For the first time in what felt like forever, I woke without the shrill sound of my alarm dragging me out of sleep.
I blinked slowly, my eyes adjusting to the soft morning light filtering through the curtains. Thin ribbons of sunshine stretched across my bedroom floor, warming the edge of my blanket. Outside, New York seemed unusually quiet. The usual chorus of hurried footsteps, impatient car horns, and the constant rush of weekday life had softened into something gentler.
Saturday.
The word alone loosened something inside me.
I lay there for another minute, listening to the silence. It was so different from the organized chaos of Blackwood International. There were no ringing office phones, no polished voices discussing meetings, no hurried footsteps echoing across marble floors.
Just birds somewhere beyond my window.
The distant hum of traffic.
And the slow, steady rhythm of my own breathing.
I stretched beneath the covers, my arms reaching above my head until a pleasant ache pulled across my shoulders. My muscles protested from the long week, reminding me just how many hours I'd spent walking hotel corridors, taking notes, and trying to absorb everything I could.
Instead of feeling exhausted, I smiled.
The soreness felt... earned.
A quiet sense of accomplishment settled warmly in my chest.
I had survived my first week.
Not perfectly.
Not without nerves.
But I had survived.
Without thinking, my mind drifted to Blackwood International.
Too polished conference rooms.
To the scent of fresh coffee drifting through executive hallways.
To the city skyline outside the office windows.
And then
To Adrian.
The memory arrived before I could stop it.
"Good catch."
"You earned it."
"You never were very good at hiding nerves."
Heat crept into my cheeks, and I covered my face with both hands, letting out a quiet groan.
"Seriously, Ava?"
My own voice sounded ridiculous in the empty room.
"This has to stop."
It didn't.
Instead, the corners of my mouth lifted on their own.
I rolled onto my side and buried my face in the pillow, laughing softly at myself.
"What are you smiling about?"
Mom's voice floated upstairs from the kitchen.
I froze.
Then laughed again.
"Nothing!"
"Oh?" she called back, amusement obvious even from downstairs. "That's usually when you're smiling the most."
I shook my head as I climbed out of bed.
"I heard that!"
"I know you did."
I could almost picture her grinning.
Still smiling despite myself, I changed into a comfortable sweater and a pair of jeans before making my way downstairs.
The rich smell of butter, toasted bread, and freshly brewed coffee greeted me before I even reached the kitchen.
Home.
The word wrapped itself around me as comfortably as my favorite blanket.
Mom stood at the stove, humming softly while flipping pancakes. A few loose strands of blonde hair had escaped her ponytail, framing her face. She glanced over her shoulder when she heard my footsteps, her eyes immediately finding mine.
"There she is."
I smiled.
"Morning."
She studied me for a second longer than necessary.
Then one eyebrow lifted.
"What?"
She tilted her head.
"Nothing."
I narrowed my eyes.
"That look means something."
"It means," she replied, fighting a smile, "my daughter looks happier than she has in a very long time."
I looked away quickly, pretending to examine the fruit bowl on the counter.
"I'm just happy it's Saturday."
"Mm."
She didn't sound convinced.
Not even a little.
Dad sat at the dining table with the newspaper spread open in front of him, a mug of coffee balanced beside his elbow.
Without looking up, he smiled.
"Morning, sweetheart."
"Morning, Dad."
I leaned down to kiss his cheek before taking my seat.
He folded the newspaper neatly and set it aside, giving me his full attention.
"So," he asked, wrapping both hands around his coffee mug, "how was your first week?"
I reached for my orange juice, grateful for something to do with my hands.
"It was... busy."
Dad laughed.
"I expected Adrian would throw you straight into the deep end."
The mention of Adrian made my fingers tighten almost imperceptibly around the glass.
I hoped neither of my parents noticed.
"He didn't go easy on anyone when we were younger, either," Dad continued with a fond shake of his head. "That's one of the reasons he's built what he has today."
Mom placed a plate of pancakes in front of me before quietly taking her seat.
Dad's eyes drifted toward the window, a nostalgic smile touching his lips.
"You know, people look at those hotels and see luxury. I see twenty-five years of sacrifice."
I listened quietly.
"He missed birthdays."
"Worked through holidays."
"Flew across three countries in a week without complaining."
"He built Blackwood International one decision at a time."
There was unmistakable admiration in Dad's voice.
"That's the thing about Adrian," he continued. "People think success came because he was lucky."
He shook his head.
"They're wrong."
"He earned every single bit of it."
I lowered my gaze to my plate, cutting into a pancake that suddenly demanded far more attention than it deserved.
"I can see that," I said softly.
"And?"
Dad smiled.
"What's he like to work for?"
I swallowed before answering.
"Professional."
That much was true.
"Demanding."
Also true.
"But..." I hesitated, choosing each word carefully. "...he notices everything."
Dad laughed.
"I told you."
"If your shoelace is untied, Adrian notices."
Mom chuckled.
"If your report has one typo, Adrian notices."
I smiled despite myself.
"That sounds about right."
What I didn't say was that he also noticed when I was nervous.
Or remembered little things about me that I thought time would have erased.
Those memories stayed tucked safely behind my smile.
The front doorbell rang.
"I'll get it," Mom said, standing.
A moment later, an unmistakably cheerful voice floated through the hallway.
"I brought emergency pastries!"
"Lily," I laughed under my breath.
Seconds later, she appeared in the kitchen carrying two bakery boxes and a cardboard tray of coffees.
Her bright smile filled the room before she even spoke.
"Good morning, favorite family!"
She hugged Mom first, then Dad, before turning to me.
Her eyes landed on my face.
She stopped.
One eyebrow lifted.
Then the other.
"Oh."
I blinked.
"What?"
She slowly looked me up and down before placing the pastries on the counter.
"There it is."
"What?"
"The smile."
"I am not smiling."
"You absolutely are."
Dad looked between us with obvious confusion.
"What smile?"
Lily pointed dramatically in my direction.
"That one."
I instinctively touched my face.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
She folded her arms.
"Mm."
I narrowed my eyes.
"Lily."
"Ava."
We stared at each other for a beat before she burst into laughter.
"Okay," she said, unable to hide her grin. "Who's responsible for that smile?"
Heat rushed into my cheeks.
"No one."
"Liar."
"I'm serious."
She leaned closer, lowering her voice just enough that only I could hear.
"Was his name Adrian?"
My heart skipped.
Just once.
Enough to make me hate how easily she could read me.
I forced an innocent expression.
"No."
She simply smiled.
The kind of smile that said she wasn't fooled for even a second.