The hardest part wasn't seeing her less.
It was not seeing her at all.
Days passed without a meeting, an email, or a passing instruction delivered in her calm, controlled tone. Her name appeared in announcements and forwarded memos, but never directly to me.
Evelyn Sheldon had become a presence without proximity.
I told myself it was fine.
Work filled the hours. New team. New lead. Different expectations. Everything functional, efficient, and painfully normal.
Still, I caught myself glancing toward her office whenever I walked past that floor.
The door was always closed now.
At lunch, people spoke freely again. Whatever tension had hovered before seemed to fade, replaced by routine gossip and deadlines.
"She's been traveling a lot," someone mentioned casually."Board meetings," another replied. "High-level stuff."
I didn't ask questions.
I didn't need answers.
One evening, as I wrapped up late, my phone buzzed.
Unknown Number
I stared at the screen longer than necessary before answering.
"Hello?"
There was a pause on the other end. Just breathing.
Then—
"Lucas."
Her voice.
It was quieter than I remembered.
"Yes?"
"I won't keep you," she said. "I just wanted to confirm—did the transition go smoothly?"
"It did," I replied. "The team's solid."
"I expected as much."
Another pause.
The kind that didn't belong in professional calls.
"I wanted to make sure," she added, "that none of this felt… personal."
I leaned back in my chair. "It doesn't."
That was only half true.
"Good," she said softly. "That was important to me."
Silence stretched again. Not awkward. Careful.
"How are you holding up?" she asked, then stopped herself. "Professionally."
I almost smiled.
"Fine," I said. "Busy."
"Good."
She hesitated.
"You don't need to call," I said gently. "I understand why you're doing this."
"I know," she replied. "That's why I called."
That landed harder than I expected.
"Lucas," she said, her tone firm now, grounding herself. "This distance is necessary."
"I agree."
"I mean it," she said. "For both of us."
I exhaled slowly. "Then we'll stick to it."
"Yes," she said.
The call ended shortly after.
No goodbye. No linger.
Just the click of disconnection.
I sat there for a long moment, staring at my phone.
The distance was working.
Too well.
And for the first time, I wondered—
who it was actually protecting.
Her.
Or me.