The afternoon light poured through the high windows of the wellness center, casting soft golden streaks across polished hardwood and minimalist furniture. Plants,real ones, not the plastic kind, lined the window sills and corners, their leaves clean and lively, the air smelling faintly of lavender and eucalyptus. The kind of place where even the silence felt curated. Quiet enough to think. Quiet enough to breathe.

Charlotte, Lottie to those close enough to see past the professional gloss, sat cross-legged on the wide armchair in her office, a thick journal balanced on one knee, pen cap between her teeth. Her brow was knit, not out of stress, but focus. Her patients were out for the hour, and she was using the break to update her notes.

The knock at the door didn’t startle her. She glanced at the clock. Definitely not her next appointment.

“Come in,” she called, not bothering to uncross her legs or look up yet.

When the door swung open and they stepped through, she blinked. And then blinked again, the corners of her mouth slowly lifting into a smile that started warm and stretched wide across her face.

“Well,” she said, setting her pen down and closing the journal without breaking eye contact, “I didn’t think I’d have to start charging you by the hour.”

They stood there, hands tucked into jacket pockets, a look on their face that said they knew exactly what they were doing. A casual drop-in. No warning. Just enough time to catch her off-guard in the best way.

Lottie rose from the chair, smoothing her skirt as she walked toward them. “You couldn’t have texted? Given me a heads-up? What if I’d been mid-breakthrough?” She raised an eyebrow, mock-serious. “Or, god forbid, crying in a fetal position on the couch?”

They shrugged.

Of course they shrugged.

That earned a quiet laugh from her as she closed the distance, wrapping arms around their waist in a hug that felt more like home than anything else had that day. She breathed them in, familiar, grounding. A quiet reset.

She pulled back slightly but didn’t let go.

“Okay, what’s going on?” she asked, scanning their face. “Is everything alright, or is this just your way of avoiding lunch alone again?”

They gestured vaguely at the office around them. Lottie followed the movement with her eyes and sighed, only a little dramatic.

They were already walking deeper into the room, glancing at the bookshelves, half psychology texts, half messy stacks of novels and sketchpads. There was a photo of the two of them on the credenza, half-hidden behind a potted plant. It had been taken last summer, both of them barefoot, faces flushed from sun and wine and whatever argument had just ended in laughter. They lingered near it now, quiet for a second.

Charlotte’s voice softened. “Hey. I’m glad you’re here.”

They looked back at her, that same look they always gave when the world felt too big and she made it smaller just by standing still.

She motioned toward the couch with a tilt of her chin. “C’mon. Sit with me for a few. I’ve got-” She glanced at her watch. “-twenty-eight minutes before someone comes in here and sobs about their mother. We can steal a few of them.”

They hesitated. She caught it. That subtle shift in their shoulders, that flicker of something they weren’t saying yet.

She sat first, patting the spot beside her. “Or… we can steal all of them, if you want to talk.”

Their expression changed just slightly-one of those unreadable things she’d never quite figured out, even now. But they sat, shoulder brushing hers.

Charlotte glanced sideways, something playful sparking behind her eyes. “So… do I need to grab a notepad, or is this more of a ‘diagnose me with love’ situation?”

They shot her a look.

She grinned. “Hey, I am a professional.” She paused. “Doctor, even.”

Another groan from them.

Charlotte leaned back, laughing as she bumped her shoulder into theirs. “That’s what you get for showing up unannounced, sweetheart.”