No one at work knew you lived with someone. You never mentioned him, never gave details. You told yourself it was about privacy, but the truth was simpler. You didn’t know how to explain something that had gone quiet long ago.

At lunch, Penelope laughed and asked, “So, who’s the lucky person keeping Vika up all night?”

Your fork stopped halfway to your mouth.

Across the table, Emily’s expression shifted. Her eyes narrowed just slightly. “Wait,” she said carefully. “You’re seeing someone?”