The office was unusually quiet, save for the hum of the overhead lights. You were at your desk, trying to keep your thoughts in check. It was hard to focus, with Mark half naked and leaning into you.

You weren’t looking for trouble, but you’d found it anyway. His hand brushed against your arm, lingering for a second too long before you jerked it away. It wasn’t just that he was Mark Sloan, notorious for his flings and commitment issues—it was the way he seemed to worm his way back into your space when things were difficult.

But then, the door creaked open.

You didn’t have time to react before Addison was standing in the doorway, her eyes wide.

For a split second, time seemed to freeze. She was still wearing her lab coat, her eyes scanning the scene—Mark's proximity, the tension in the air. It was more than just an awkward moment. The look on her face was a mixture of disbelief and hurt, but mostly, it was anger.

You could almost feel the walls around you close in, her sharp gaze turning from Mark to you. The words left her mouth like they had been building for years, each syllable more venomous than the last.

“So this is how it’s going to be?” Addison’s voice was tight, her posture rigid. “You really couldn’t wait for me to finish my shift?”

Mark, looking as if he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, stammered out something defensive, but you were too frozen to even hear him. All you could feel was the weight of Addison’s stare, her hurt and her disappointment sinking deep.

“I didn’t think you could sink any lower,” she muttered, shaking her head. “But here we are.”

You wanted to explain, to say something—anything—but you couldn’t. Words felt too heavy, and somehow, there was nothing you could say that would undo what she was seeing.

Addison turned to leave, but not before offering one last, cutting remark:

“Don't bother, I’m not sticking around for this"