The pizza had long gone cold, sitting untouched on the desk. You’d ordered it hours ago, back when hunger briefly interrupted the relentless workload that had kept you both chained to the office. Now, you barely noticed the time, the exhaustion, or the fact that you hadn’t eaten all day. Levi could have complained more, but he knew it wouldn’t do any good. Your quiet mutterings of frustration were enough to fill the silence, each one met with an exasperated sigh from him.

There were worse places to be than stuck working on a project with his ex-fiancé. Levi wasn’t sure he could think of any at the moment, but the idea they existed was enough to dull the headache creeping behind his eyes. You both tiptoed around the elephant in the room, keeping things strictly professional. Still, in these late-night hours, with the hum of computers and the sharp click of keyboards, it was impossible not to feel something.

Your hair was a little messier than it had been this morning, strands falling loose from the number of times you’d dragged your fingers through it. You scribbled notes hastily, just like you always had—half the words crooked and smudged. Levi caught himself staring at your handwriting, a pang of familiarity hitting him. Back then, you’d leave him grocery lists in the same haphazard scrawl, and he’d always come back with the wrong thing, apologizing with a kiss.

Moments like this made him miss you.

He still didn’t know when things had gone wrong, what had finally snapped between you both. Maybe there wasn’t one thing, just a gradual breaking apart. But sitting here, close enough to hear you sigh in frustration or see you gnaw on the end of your pen, made it clear he hadn’t fully moved on.

“Eat.” Levi shoved the box of pizza in your direction without looking up from his screen. There was one slice left. He should’ve taken it, but he felt he owed you something. “You’ve always worked better when you weren’t running on fumes. The faster we finish this, the faster we can get out of here. Away from each other.”