The office buzzed louder than usual on Thursday morning. Not with emails or deadlines, but with whispers. Heads tilted toward one another in corridors. Brows raised discreetly over coffee mugs.
Ava felt it the moment she stepped onto her floor—the subtle shift in atmosphere. The kind that made her stomach tighten before she even knew why.
She'd barely dropped her bag when her assistant appeared at her door, eyes wide.
"You've seen it, right?" Marissa asked.
"Seen what?"
Marissa handed over her phone, the screen already open to a company gossip forum Ava had always ignored. Her name was right there in bold.
"Ava Ramirez and Julian Hale—office romance or career play?"
Beneath it, a photo. Grainy, taken from a distance, but unmistakable: her and Julian walking out of his apartment building last Sunday morning. She had her hand on his arm. He was looking at her like the world hadn't ended. Like she was his beginning.
Her stomach dropped.
Marissa was already talking. "I told everyone it was none of their business, but you know how people are."
Ava handed the phone back. "Thanks, Mar."
Then she shut the door and stared at the wall, willing herself not to scream.
Julian met her in the park after work, both of them too aware of the eyes that would be on them if they met anywhere else.
He was already sitting on a bench when she arrived, one leg bouncing restlessly.
"Hey," he said.
"Hey."
They both paused, then sat in silence as the evening crowd passed them by.
"So…" he started.
"So."
"You saw it?"
She nodded. "Did you?"
"Hard to miss."
She tucked her hands into the sleeves of her coat. "I didn't think we were being reckless."
"We weren't," he said quickly. "We were just… living."
She exhaled. "And now the whole company thinks I'm sleeping my way up the ladder."
Julian's face tightened. "No one who matters would think that."
"But people do. You saw the comments. The speculation. I've worked my ass off for years, Julian. I don't want to be reduced to a headline."
He looked at her, guilt written plainly across his face. "I never wanted to complicate your career."
"You didn't. This did."
Silence.
Then: "Do you regret it?" he asked quietly.
Ava looked at him, startled. "What?"
"Us. Being seen together. Do you wish we'd just kept things quiet?"
She hesitated. Not because the answer wasn't clear, but because it was so not the answer he feared.
"No," she said finally. "I don't regret us. I regret the world not knowing how to mind its damn business."
Julian laughed once—dry and low. "Yeah. That'd be nice, wouldn't it?"
She leaned against him, her head on his shoulder. "I'm just tired of always having to defend something that should feel good."
"It does feel good," he said. "Even now."
She closed her eyes. "Then let's hold onto that."
The following day, Ava found herself summoned to the executive floor. Her boss, Miriam Chen—sharp, poised, and infamously unreadable—had requested a one-on-one meeting.
Ava's palms were damp before she even knocked on the door.
"Come in," Miriam called.
The office was minimalist and sunlit. Miriam gestured to the chair across from her desk.
Ava sat, spine straight.
"I'll get straight to it," Miriam said. "There's chatter. About you and Mr. Hale."
Ava nodded once. "I'm aware."
"I don't care what people say, Ava. I care about optics. I care about performance. And I care about liability."
Ava braced herself. "I understand."
"I also care about talent. Which you have in spades."
A pause. Then:
"You've always operated with integrity. So tell me—does this relationship interfere with your work?"
"No," Ava said firmly. "If anything, it makes me more grounded. More focused."
Miriam studied her, then nodded slowly.
"Then here's my only ask: keep things professional in the building. Be aware of perception. But don't let them make you smaller."
Ava blinked. "What?"
Miriam gave the faintest smile. "You think I didn't have to fight the same war when I started? It never ends. But the best strategy is to be so good they can't make you disappear."
A breath Ava hadn't realized she was holding finally escaped.
"Thank you," she said.
Miriam gave a small nod. "Dismissed."
That night, Ava showed up at Julian's apartment with takeout and a bottle of wine.
"Truce offering?" he asked, smiling.
"Victory celebration," she corrected.
He raised an eyebrow.
"I didn't get fired."
He laughed, pulling her inside. "Well damn. That's cause for champagne."
As they sat on the floor, eating noodles from cartons and trading bites of spring rolls, Ava finally felt the tension begin to loosen.
"They won't stop talking," she said. "But I won't stop living."
Julian looked at her like she was the sun. "You're not just living, Ava. You're becoming."
She leaned into him. "What are you becoming, Julian?"
He kissed her temple. "The man who refuses to let gossip define the best thing that's ever happened to him."
Her chest tightened in the best way.
She didn't know what came next. But for the first time, she wasn't afraid of it.
She was walking into the future—messy, noisy, public—and she was doing it hand-in-hand with someone who wouldn't let her walk it alone.
And that?
That was the kind of story worth telling.