Saturday arrived far too slowly.

Lauretta refused to admit that.

She had a perfectly normal day.

She worked.

She answered emails.

She ignored two calls from her mother before finally calling her back.

She spent an unnecessary amount of time standing in front of her wardrobe.

Then changed her outfit three times.

By six forty-five, she was annoyed.

At herself.

At Elias.

At the fact that he had given her absolutely no information beyond:

Saturday. 7pm.

No location.

No instructions.

No suggestion of what to wear.

Just an assumption that she would be ready.

Which, unfortunately, she was.

At six fifty-eight, her phone buzzed.

Elias: Outside.

Lauretta stared at the message.

Then typed:

Lauretta: You could have said you're on your way.

His response came almost immediately.

Elias: But then you would have known.

She frowned.

Lauretta: Known what?

Elias: That I was coming.

She picked up her bag.

Lauretta: You're irritating.

Elias: Come downstairs.

Lauretta smiled despite herself.

Then locked her apartment and left.

Elias was waiting beside his car.

This time, there were no flowers.

No coffee.

No obvious attempt to impress her.

He was dressed simply.

Dark trousers.

A black shirt with the sleeves rolled slightly past his wrists.

Lauretta noticed immediately.

Which was unfortunate.

Because Elias noticed her noticing.

His smile appeared slowly.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"You looked at me."

"I looked in your direction."

"Convenient."

Lauretta walked past him.

"You said seven."

"It's seven."

She glanced at her phone.

"Seven-oh-three."

"You're counting?"

"I'm observing."

Elias opened the passenger door.

"Get in, Lauretta."

She looked at him.

"You know, one day I'm going to ignore you."

"No, you're not."

Her eyes narrowed.

The confidence.

Always the confidence.

She got into the car.

For the first fifteen minutes, Lauretta tried to guess where they were going.

Elias refused to help.

"Are we going to dinner?"

"No."

"A party?"

"No."

"An event?"

"No."

She turned toward him.

"Are you kidnapping me?"

He glanced at her.

"That's a serious accusation."

"You won't tell me where we're going."

"Because it's a surprise."

"That's exactly what kidnappers would say."

Elias laughed.

Lauretta looked at him.

There it was again.

That laugh.

The one she had spent entirely too much time thinking about since Friday night.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing."

He looked at her for a second longer than necessary.

Then returned his attention to the road.

Lauretta watched the city pass through the window.

She didn't ask again.

When Elias finally parked, Lauretta looked around.

Then looked at him.

"This is not a restaurant."

"No."

"This is also not an event."

"No."

She turned toward the building in front of them.

It was quiet.

Elegant.

Not unfamiliar in the way a hotel or private residence might have been.

But personal.

Elias stepped out of the car.

Lauretta followed.

"Where are we?"

He came around to her side.

"My apartment."

She stared at him.

"Your apartment."

"Yes."

Lauretta looked back at the building.

Then at him again.

"You brought me to your apartment?"

Elias leaned against the car.

"You say that like it's a crime."

"I didn't say it was."

"You thought it."

"I thought nothing."

He smiled.

"Come upstairs."

Lauretta hesitated.

Only briefly.

Elias noticed.

His expression changed slightly.

Not offended.

Just quieter.

"You don't have to."

She looked at him.

Something about the way he said it made her pause.

There was no teasing in his voice now.

No confidence.

No assumption.

Just an option.

And suddenly, Lauretta understood that this wasn't supposed to be impressive.

He wasn't bringing her somewhere expensive.

He wasn't taking her somewhere public.

He was letting her see something that belonged entirely to him.

She looked toward the building again.

Then back at him.

"Okay."

Elias smiled.

"Okay?"

"Don't make me repeat myself."

"I like when you say yes."

Lauretta began walking.

"That's enough."

He laughed behind her.

His apartment was exactly what Lauretta expected.

And somehow nothing like what she expected at all.

It was beautiful.

Of course it was.

Large windows overlooked the city.

The furniture was modern but comfortable.

Nothing felt excessively decorated.

Nothing looked as though it had been arranged for other people to admire.

There were books.

Actual books.

More than Lauretta expected.

She walked slowly through the living room.

"You read?"

Elias closed the door behind them.

"I know."

She turned.

"That sounded judgmental."

"It was."

He smiled.

"Why wouldn't I read?"

"I don't know."

"You assumed wealthy men wear shoes inside and don't read."

"I never said either of those things."

"You didn't have to."

Lauretta ignored him.

She walked toward the bookshelf.

There were novels.

Biographies.

History.

A few books she recognized.

She pulled one out.

Then looked over her shoulder.

"You've actually read these?"

"Some of them."

"Which ones haven't you read?"

Elias looked at the shelf.

"Most of the biographies."

Lauretta smiled.

"I knew it."

"You asked if I read."

"You clearly decorate with books."

He laughed.

"I do read."

"Prove it."

He stared at her.

"How?"

"Tell me something from one."

Elias was quiet.

Lauretta crossed her arms.

Then he said, "You're enjoying this too much."

"Very."

He walked toward her.

Stopped beside the shelf.

Then reached above her and pulled out a book.

"You read this one?"

She looked at the cover.

"Yes."

"Favourite part?"

Lauretta frowned.

"That's not how this works."

"It is now."

She looked at him.

Elias smiled.

"Thought so."

Lauretta pushed the book against his chest.

"I dislike you."

"No, you don't."

The answer came too easily.

Too quietly.

Lauretta looked away first.

He made dinner.

That surprised her more than it should have.

"You cook?"

"Apparently, wealthy men can also cook."

Lauretta leaned against the kitchen counter.

"You're never letting that go."

"No."

"You enjoy this too much."

"Very."

She watched him move around the kitchen.

Comfortable.

Familiar with everything.

Opening cabinets without looking.

Reaching for things automatically.

It was strange.

Seeing him like this.

At her apartment, Elias had seemed like a guest.

Here, he belonged to everything around him.

And somehow, Lauretta liked seeing that.

"What?" he asked.

She blinked.

"Nothing."

"You've been saying that a lot lately."

"You've been asking too many questions."

"I thought you hated strangers asking questions."

"I don't know you well enough to call you a stranger."

The words left her before she could think about them.

Elias stopped.

Lauretta realized what she had said.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Then Elias looked at her.

Not smiling.

Not teasing.

Just looking.

Lauretta cleared her throat.

"I mean—"

"I know what you meant."

She looked down.

He returned to what he was doing.

But something had changed.

Something quiet.

Something neither of them mentioned.

Dinner was served on his balcony.

Lauretta hadn't realized it was there until he opened the glass doors.

The view made her stop.

The city stretched beneath them.

Lights everywhere.

Cars moving in the distance.

People living entire lives she couldn't see.

She walked toward the railing.

"This is beautiful."

Elias stood behind her.

"I know."

She turned.

"Did you bring me here just to show off?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Very."

She smiled.

"Then why?"

Elias looked toward the city.

For once, he didn't answer immediately.

Lauretta noticed.

She waited.

Finally, he said, "I spend a lot of time here."

She looked around.

"Thinking?"

"Sometimes."

"About what?"

He smiled slightly.

"Too many questions."

Lauretta gasped.

"You've been waiting to use that against me."

"Since the kitchen."

She laughed.

Elias watched her.

Then his expression softened.

"I wanted you to see it."

The laughter disappeared from her face.

"Your apartment?"

"No."

He looked toward the view.

"This."

Lauretta followed his gaze.

The city.

The lights.

The quiet.

She looked back at him.

"Why?"

Elias was quiet again.

Then he said, "Because I like it here."

Something about the simplicity of that answer stayed with her.

Not because it was romantic.

Because it wasn't trying to be.

He liked something.

So he wanted to share it with her.

And suddenly, Lauretta understood something she hadn't expected to understand yet.

This was intimacy too.

Not just kisses.

Not holding hands.

Not staying until midnight.

Sometimes it was this.

Letting someone see the places where you went when you wanted to be alone.

They stayed outside for a long time.

Talking.

Sometimes.

Other times, simply sitting.

Lauretta was beginning to understand that silence with Elias didn't feel like work.

She didn't have to fill every quiet moment.

Neither did he.

At one point, she leaned back in her chair and looked at him.

"What?"

He smiled.

"You keep looking at me."

"I'm thinking."

"That's dangerous."

She laughed.

"You're getting repetitive."

"You make me nervous."

Lauretta stared at him.

Elias stared back.

Then smiled.

She narrowed her eyes.

"You almost had me."

"Almost?"

"You don't get nervous."

"You don't know that."

The words were quiet.

Lauretta stopped smiling.

Elias looked away.

Just briefly.

But she saw it.

And suddenly, she remembered the man from their first meeting.

The one who had seemed composed.

Difficult to read.

Almost too controlled.

She had spent the last few weeks discovering pieces of him.

The teasing.

The laugh.

The concern.

The confidence.

But there were still parts of Elias that disappeared when she got too close.

She looked at him carefully.

"What makes you nervous?"

His eyes returned to hers.

For a moment, she thought he wouldn't answer.

Then:

"Things changing."

Lauretta's expression softened.

"That's honest."

"I have my moments."

She smiled.

"Rare ones."

"Don't ruin it."

She laughed.

Then became quiet.

Elias looked at her.

"What?"

Lauretta hesitated.

She could have changed the subject.

Made a joke.

Teased him.

Instead, she said, "Things changing makes me nervous too."

His expression shifted.

"Why?"

She looked down at her hands.

"Because sometimes you don't realize how much something matters until it changes."

Elias didn't interrupt.

She didn't explain further.

She wasn't ready to.

But when she looked up again, he understood anyway.

Not everything.

But enough.

Elias reached across the table.

His hand covered hers.

Lauretta looked down at it.

Then back at him.

And for a moment, neither of them said anything.

Later, Elias walked her through the apartment.

Not formally.

Not like a tour.

She simply wandered, and he followed.

His bedroom.

His office.

A room that had apparently once been intended for guests but was now mostly filled with boxes.

Lauretta stopped outside the office.

"This is where you work?"

"Sometimes."

She stepped inside.

The room was quieter than the rest of the apartment.

A desk.

A laptop.

Files.

More books.

And photographs.

Lauretta's attention shifted.

There were several framed pictures on a shelf.

She walked closer.

Elias didn't stop her.

One was of a much younger Elias with two men.

Another showed what looked like a family gathering.

Lauretta smiled.

"You looked angry even as a child."

Elias came beside her.

"I was not angry."

"You were definitely angry."

"I was seven."

"Exactly."

He laughed.

She looked at another photograph.

Then another.

And then she stopped.

Elias noticed immediately.

Lauretta's expression changed.

The photograph was turned slightly toward the wall.

Almost hidden behind another frame.

But she recognized it.

Or rather—

She recognized the woman in it.

Lauretta looked at Elias.

His face had gone still.

Not dramatically.

Just enough.

She turned back toward the photograph.

"Who is she?"

The room became quiet.

Elias didn't answer.

Lauretta looked at him again.

And this time, she didn't tease.

Didn't smile.

She simply waited.

Elias walked toward the desk.

His hand rested against the edge of it.

"Someone I knew."

Lauretta's eyebrows rose slightly.

The exact same answer.

The vague one.

The answer she had already heard before.

Something uncomfortable settled quietly inside her chest.

"That's still not an answer."

"I know."

"Then why do you keep giving it to me?"

Elias looked at her.

And Lauretta saw it.

For the first time since she had known him—

real hesitation.

Not shyness.

Not nervousness.

Something heavier.

Something he had been carrying for a long time.

"You don't have to tell me if you're not ready," she said.

His eyes stayed on hers.

"But?"

Lauretta looked toward the photograph.

Then back at him.

"But I don't like feeling as though I'm asking about something you already know you don't want me to know."

Elias was quiet.

She swallowed.

"I like you, Elias."

The words surprised both of them.

She hadn't planned to say them.

Hadn't rehearsed them.

They simply arrived.

Honest.

Simple.

Terrifyingly easy.

Elias looked at her.

Lauretta continued before she could lose her courage.

"And I think that's becoming a problem."

His expression softened.

"Why?"

"Because I want to know you."

The silence that followed was different.

Not empty.

Not comfortable.

Important.

Lauretta looked at him.

"I don't need to know everything tonight."

Elias said nothing.

"But eventually," she continued, "I don't want to feel like there are parts of your life that I'm not allowed to ask about."

Elias looked toward the photograph.

Then back at her.

When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet.

"You are allowed to ask."

Lauretta waited.

He looked down briefly.

"I just don't always know how to answer."

Something inside her softened.

Not because she was satisfied.

She wasn't.

But because for once, he hadn't pretended.

She stepped closer.

"Then don't pretend."

Elias looked at her.

"About what?"

"That everything is simple."

A smile touched his mouth.

"You said I make things sound simple."

"You do."

"And you don't like it."

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to."

Lauretta rolled her eyes.

"There you are again."

Elias laughed.

And just like that, some of the tension disappeared.

Not entirely.

The photograph was still there.

The woman was still unknown.

The question was still unanswered.

But Lauretta understood something now.

Whatever Elias was hiding—

it wasn't because he didn't trust her enough to tell her.

Not entirely.

It was because telling her would mean opening something he had spent a long time keeping closed.

She didn't know which possibility scared her more.

---

When Elias drove her home, neither of them mentioned the photograph again.

They talked about smaller things.

A terrible movie Lauretta had recently watched.

A restaurant Elias insisted she would hate.

A childhood story she promised to tell him later.

But underneath every conversation was the awareness of what they hadn't said.

Elias parked outside her apartment.

Lauretta looked at him.

"So."

"So."

She smiled.

He smiled back.

Neither of them moved.

Finally, Lauretta opened the car door.

Elias spoke.

"Lauretta."

She turned.

His expression had changed again.

More serious.

"I wasn't avoiding your question because I don't trust you."

She looked at him.

"I know."

His eyes searched hers.

"You don't know."

Lauretta was quiet.

Then she closed the car door again.

And turned fully toward him.

"Okay."

Elias frowned slightly.

"Okay?"

"You said you weren't avoiding it because you don't trust me."

"Yes."

"So I'll believe you."

His expression softened.

"Just like that?"

"No."

He smiled slightly.

Lauretta continued.

"But I'm choosing to believe you."

Something shifted in his face.

Something she couldn't name.

He reached for her hand.

Held it.

"I'll tell you."

She looked at him.

"When?"

Elias was quiet.

Then:

"Soon."

Lauretta smiled faintly.

"That's vague."

"I know."

She squeezed his hand once.

"You're annoying."

"And yet."

She laughed.

Then leaned across the space between them and kissed him.

It was brief.

Soft.

But Elias followed when she pulled away slightly.

As though neither of them was quite ready for it to end.

When they finally separated, Lauretta looked at him.

"You know," she said, "one day you're going to have to stop using confidence as a personality trait."

Elias smiled.

"One day you're going to have to stop pretending you're not affected by me."

Lauretta opened the door.

"I am leaving."

"Goodnight, Lauretta."

She stepped out.

Then looked back.

Elias was still watching her.

And for a moment, Lauretta stood there.

Somewhere between the life she had before him—

and whatever was beginning now.

She smiled.

"Goodnight, Elias."

Inside her apartment, Lauretta leaned against the closed door.

Her phone buzzed almost immediately.

She smiled before checking it.

Elias: Did you get inside safely?

Lauretta laughed.

Lauretta: I'm literally inside.

Elias: Answer the question.

Lauretta: Yes.

A pause.

Then:

Elias: Good.

She stared at the message.

Then typed:

Lauretta: Elias?

The response came.

Elias: Yes?

Her fingers hovered over the screen.

There were things she wanted to ask.

About the photograph.

About the woman.

About why his voice had changed when he looked at it.

Instead, she typed:

Lauretta: Thank you for tonight.

This time, his reply took longer.

When it came, it made her smile.

Elias: Thank you for coming.

She put the phone down.

Then picked it up again.

Because she knew herself now.

Or at least, she was beginning to.

She liked him.

More than she had planned to.

More than was convenient.

And perhaps Elias liked her too.

But liking someone, Lauretta was beginning to understand, was the easy part.

It was everything that came after—

the questions.

The past.

The things people were afraid to say.

That decided whether two people could actually stay.

Lauretta looked toward her darkened apartment.

Then at Elias's last message again.

For now, she didn't have the answers.

She only had the feeling.

That somewhere between curiosity and certainty—

between wanting to protect herself and wanting to know him—

she had already started falling into something neither of them could easily walk away from.

And somewhere in the middle of all of it—

Elias was still holding something back.