WHAT THE VOWS DIDN'T SAY

The rest of the day passed in a quiet blur.

I buried myself in tasks, scheduling, emailing, typing notes from a meeting I barely remembered being in. I moved slower than usual, but I was efficient. The pain in my hand pulsed like a reminder I couldn't ignore, and the limp in my step flared with every move, but I kept going. I always did.

Sebastian hadn't said much after patching me up. Just handed me a bottle of water and returned to his office, closing the door behind him like he needed the space to breathe. Maybe I did too.

The meeting with the Paragon Group was scheduled for four o'clock, and I spent the early afternoon prepping materials and confirming arrivals. They were a high-profile client, known for being sharp and impossible to please. I'd seen Sebastian rip into unprepared teams before, today was not the day to be sloppy.

So I worked.

Until just before three, when Sebastian emerged from his office.

His eyes swept the outer area of the executive floor before landing on me. "Isla," he said, calm but direct. "You're not attending the Paragon meeting."

I blinked. "What?"

"You're not coming."

"I'm your assistant. Of course I'm coming."

"No," he said, stepping closer. "You're not. You're exhausted. You're hurt. You're going to my office, and you're going to rest."

I opened my mouth, already forming my protest. "I can still..."

He tilted his head slightly, not unkind, but firm.

"That wasn't a suggestion."

"I'm fine, Sebastian."

He didn't blink. "That's the third time today you've said that, and you haven't been right once."

I looked around. A few nearby interns were pretending not to listen, but I could feel the attention shift toward us like static. Embarrassment prickled beneath my skin.

"I'm not going to lie down in your office like some fragile..."

"Yes you're going to!"

That voice. Commanding. Quiet, but cutting straight through my defenses like a knife. My protests died in my throat.

"Go," he said again, more gently now.

"That's an order."

I wanted to hate the way my body responded. The way my feet moved before my pride caught up. But I didn't fight it. Not really. Because maybe I did want to lie down. Maybe I wanted just an hour of silence in a place that didn't smell like him. Marcus.

Sebastian's office was warmer than the rest of the building. Quiet. Private. I stepped inside slowly, feeling like an imposter trespassing into something sacred. The door clicked softly shut behind me.

The room was sleek, modern, like the man who owned it. The couch by the far window looked far too luxurious to be used for anything but decoration, but I made my way toward it and sat.

For a few minutes, I just stared at the skyline beyond the glass. New York stretched endlessly outside, glittering beneath a gray sky that mirrored the heaviness in my chest.

I didn't mean to lie down.

I meant to sit. Just rest my eyes.

But the moment my head hit the armrest, my body gave in. Muscles loosened. Shoulders sagged. My bandaged hand rested on my stomach, and I let out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding.

I wasn't sure when I fell asleep.

But I did.

*****

I woke to the soft click of the door.

For a second, I didn't know where I was. The couch beneath me was too soft. The room was too quiet. Then I smelled the faint hint of cedar and something sharper-Sebastian's cologne.

I sat up quickly, disoriented. The skyline was darker now. Evening.

"You slept," his voice said from behind me. Not accusing. Just observing.

I turned. He was standing just inside the room, holding two mugs.

"I...God, I didn't mean to." I rubbed my eyes with my good hand. "What time is it?"

"Six-thirty."

I stared. "I was supposed to return after the meeting..."

"I didn't call you back." He handed me one of the mugs. "Chamomile."

I took it, fingers curling around the warmth, muttering a quick thanks before I could think of a reason not to collect it.

"You don't have to do all this."

"Maybe not," he said. "But I want to."

I looked at him over the rim of the mug. His sleeves were rolled to his elbows, jacket off, tie loosened. He looked tired too, though in a different way. The kind of tiredness that comes from carrying too much and telling no one.

"How did the meeting go?"

He sat on the edge of his desk, facing me. "They want us to pitch a full rebrand by next Friday. Ridiculous deadline."

I smiled faintly. "You'll do it anyway."

He returned the smile, but it faded quickly. "They asked where you were."

My stomach tightened. "What did you say?"

"That you were handling something important." He sipped his tea, eyes watching me over the rim now. "They didn't need to know more than that."

A beat of silence stretched between us.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked, voice careful.

"No," I said quickly. Too quickly. "There's nothing to talk about."

He didn't argue. Just nodded once. "Then you don't have to."

I hated how much that meant to me. That he didn't push. That he just... let me be.

"I should go," I said, setting the mug down and standing. My legs still felt sore, and I winced slightly.

He noticed.

"Maybe not yet," he said.

I glanced up at him, and for a moment, I saw something flicker behind his eyes. A question. A warning. Something unspoken again.

"Sebastian..." I hesitated, my voice quieter now. "You shouldn't get involved."

"Too late," he said softly.

I shook my head. "This isn't your problem."

"You are my problem."

That startled me. I looked at him fully now, and he didn't flinch.

"You work for me," he went on. "You keep this place running when everyone else would've crumbled by now. And you walk in here every day like you're not bleeding out of places no one can see. So yeah, Isla. You're my problem. Whether you want to be or not."

I swallowed. My throat felt too tight.

"Don't say things like that," I whispered.

"Why?"

"Because I can't afford to believe them."

He stood then. Slowly. Stepping close enough that I had to tilt my chin to keep looking him in the eye.

"You don't have to believe it," he said. "Just... let yourself rest. Just once. Let someone else care."

I didn't answer.

But I didn't pull away either.

And maybe... maybe that was enough.

For now.