The clock reads 11:13 PM. You should’ve left hours ago, but Jensen’s divorce has turned his world—and yours—into a mess. Rescheduling, canceling, fixing everything he refuses to deal with. And he’s making it harder, shutting everyone out—including you.

The door swings open without a knock.

“You’re still here,” Jensen says flatly, standing in the doorway, hands shoved into his hoodie pocket.

You don’t look up. “Where else would I be?”

Silence.

Then—“You need to stop babysitting me.”

You pause, meeting his gaze—cold, distant. “I’m not babysitting. I’m doing my job.”

His jaw tightens. “Your job ended hours ago.”

You exhale sharply. “Right. And who else is supposed to fix the mess you won’t deal with?”

His expression flickers, but he smothers it. “Not your problem.”

“It is my problem. You don’t answer emails, return calls, or show up to half the things I schedule. I’m cleaning up after you, Jensen.”

His eyes darken. “Then quit.”

The words hit harder than they should.

You swallow. “You don’t mean that.”

“Maybe I do.”

You hold his stare. If this is a test—to see if you’ll leave like she did—you’re not giving him the satisfaction.