The building settled into itself as the morning moved on.
Lena returned to her office and closed the door, setting her things on the desk. She stood there for a moment longer than necessary, listening to the muted sounds outside. Phones. Voices. Footsteps moving past.
She exhaled and shook the feeling off, annoyed at herself for carrying something so small with her.
The day resumed.
Emails. Calls. A conversation she half listened to while typing notes she would remember later. She moved through it all easily, the way she always did. Whatever had happened in the elevator belonged there. She told herself that more than once.
By the time she went out for a late coffee, she had almost convinced herself it worked.
The elevator doors opened again, quieter this time, with fewer people. She stepped inside, pressed the button for the upper floors, and let her arm fall back to her side.
He stepped in just before the doors slid shut.
Her body registered him before her mind caught up. The same stillness. The unspoken weight settling beside her as if it belonged there.
She avoided meeting his gaze as the elevator continued its ascent.
"You didn't rush out," he said. His voice was low and even.
She turned toward him. "I had time."
He nodded once, as if that answered more than she'd meant it to.
They stood in silence for a moment. Lena could feel how high up they were, the strange sense of distance that came with it, even if she couldn't quite name why.
"I'm Julian," he said.
He didn't extend his hand. He didn't step closer. She noticed that too.
"Lena," she replied.
The exchange felt simple. Clean. And heavier than it should have.
The elevator slowed. The doors opened onto a corridor lined with glass and light. She stepped out first, then paused when she realized he was walking in the same direction.
Neither of them commented on it.
They walked side by side, not close enough to touch, not far enough to pretend the other wasn't there. Lena became aware of her breathing again, of the quiet hum under her skin that hadn't been there earlier.
"You speak carefully," he said after a moment. "Not cautiously. Deliberately."
She glanced at him. "Is that an observation or a critique?"
"An observation."
She considered that, then nodded. "You listen more than most people in rooms like that."
A brief pause.
"I've learned to," he said.
They stopped at a bank of windows overlooking the city. The height pressed in differently here, wide and open. Without thinking, Lena rested her hand lightly on the glass.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
She felt it then. Not meaning, not direction. Just the sense that this space mattered because they were both in it.
"I should get back," she said.
He didn't argue. He didn't ask her to stay.
"Of course."
She stepped away first. As she turned, she felt his attention follow her, steady and unforced.
As she walked back down the corridor, Lena understood something she hadn't in the elevator.
Higher didn't mean up.
It meant closer to noticing what she usually moved past.