Amelia's POV

Sleep doesn't come.

I lie in my small apartment staring at the ceiling, replaying the elevator. His voice saying my name. The way he looked at me like I was something he'd lost and couldn't figure out how to find again.

Professional colleagues in the same space.

The words felt strong when I said them. Now they just feel hollow.

At 3 AM, I give up and make coffee. Open my laptop. Throw myself into the market analysis I've been developing for the past week—tracking consumer ...