Friday arrived faster than I expected.
The office felt different that morning—quieter, tighter. People worked with focus that bordered on caution, as if the building itself was holding its breath.
I checked my calendar.
One meeting.One decision.
No room for revision.
At ten, I received a message.
Ms. Sheldon:Come to my office when you're ready.
I didn't reply immediately.
Instead, I finished what I was doing. Closed files. Sent emails. Left nothing unfinished.
When I finally knocked, her door was already open.
Evelyn stood by the window, phone set aside, jacket on. She looked composed, but there was a stillness to her that hadn't been there before.
"They're waiting," she said.
"I know."
She gestured toward the chair. I didn't sit.
"I met with the board this morning," she continued. "They want closure before the weekend."
"And you?" I asked.
"I told them I trust your judgment."
That was more than it sounded like.
I took a breath. "I've made my decision."
She turned fully toward me.
"I won't take the reassignment," I said.
Her expression didn't change, but something behind it did.
"They'll see that as resistance," she said.
"I know."
"They may escalate."
"I know."
She studied my face, searching for hesitation.
"There's another option," she said carefully. "I can formalize the distance. Publicly."
I shook my head. "That turns this into a performance."
"It protects you," she said.
"No," I replied. "It protects the narrative."
Silence filled the space between us.
"I won't build my future by stepping out of the room," I said. "And I won't let them use me as proof of something that never happened."
Her jaw tightened.
"This will reflect on me," she said.
"I know."
She walked to her desk, resting her hands against the edge. For the first time since I'd known her, she looked… tired.
"You're choosing uncertainty," she said.
"I'm choosing honesty."
She closed her eyes briefly.
"Lucas," she said quietly, "this isn't how power works."
"I'm aware," I replied. "But it's how trust does."
That stopped her.
She opened her eyes and met mine.
For a long moment, neither of us spoke.
Then she nodded once.
"Very well," she said. "I'll inform them."
"You don't have to defend me," I added.
Her gaze sharpened. "I defend what's mine to defend."
I didn't respond.
At the door, I paused.
"Whatever happens next," I said, "thank you for not deciding for me."
She didn't look away.
"Thank you," she replied, "for not letting them decide for us."
I left her office knowing the weekend wouldn't bring relief.
Only consequences.
By evening, the announcement circulated.
Board Review Deferred — Further Evaluation Pending
No resolution.
No punishment.
Just attention.
As the office emptied and Friday lights dimmed, I understood the truth of what I'd done.
I hadn't ended the tension.
I had invited it to stay.
And somewhere above the city,in an office that was finally dark,Evelyn Sheldon was doing the same.