Of all the things she’d expected, deflection, silence, that particular brand of nothing he was so good at, this wasn’t it. She looked at him with something that sat between confusion and fresh irritation, and beneath both of those, something she wouldn’t name yet.
"What does that even mean?"
"It means exactly what it sounds like." Voren wasn’t calm the way he usually was, all that practiced, almost maddening stillness.
He was calm the way a person gets when they’ve stopped performing and started just saying the thing.
"Every single thing I found out about you, I had to pull out of you. You didn’t volunteer any of it. Nothing." He pressed his lips together for a moment, like he was making sure the next words came out the right way. "And weren’t you the one who said we aren’t friends?"
Seraphine went still.
Not the kind of still that comes from having nothing to say. The kind that comes from having too much and needing a second to figure out which pieces actually fit.
Voren kept going, and each word landed with the quiet, unhurried precision of someone who had thought about this and wasn’t going to waste it.
"Everything I know about you, I forced it because you matter to me, and I never intended to hide anything from you."
He took in a deep breath, looking for the right words to explain the situation. "Sera, I tried to get close to you, but you drew a line. You told me we were just business partners. You made that very clear."
His eyes held hers without pressure, without performance. Just the thing itself. "Even when we kissed, I thought it would trigger something but in the end, it meant nothing to you."
Seraphine went quiet, allowing his words to sink and before they did, Voren asked her, "so tell me, what was I supposed to do with that? Sit across a table from my business partner and tell her about my daughter? About my personal life?" He paused a little, his voice slightly raised but not enough for others to hear. "Would you have done that?"
The hallway kept moving around them, indifferent. Somewhere down the corridor a monitor beeped its steady rhythm. The vending machine hummed. A pair of sneakers squeaked against the floor and faded.
Seraphine had gone completely quiet.
Not because she agreed. Not yet. But because the thing he’d said had landed somewhere real, somewhere she hadn’t expected it to reach, and she needed a second to breathe around it.
He was right, and she hated that he was right, and she could feel him watching her realize it in real time.
Voren read the silence correctly. He didn’t push, didn’t rush it. Just let it sit between them, doing its work.
"If you want to know everything about me." His voice had dropped, lost whatever edge had sharpened it earlier. It was quieter now. Almost careful. "Then you have to be my friend." His eyes stayed on hers, steady. "So. Will you be my friend, Sera?"
The elevator behind her made a soft sound. The doors slid open. That quiet mechanical exhale of something that had been waiting. Neither of them moved toward it.
The answer didn’t come right away.
Seraphine stood there, his question still hanging in the air between them, and let herself actually think about it. Not the easy, surface-level version of the question — will you be my friend — but everything underneath it. Everything that made the answer complicated.

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