Edward’s lamp glows softly on my desk, a beacon of the trust we’re trying to rebuild, and his jacket—still untouched—hangs like a silent question. Our meeting in the park yesterday shifted something inside me, a crack in the shadow of doubt, and today, I feel a tentative pull toward him again.

Work was a blur, my edits mechanical as my mind replayed his words: “The past was a distraction. You’re my focus.” Lena noticed my distraction, her coffee mug pausing mid-air. “Better?” she asked, and I nodded, offering a small smile. “Getting there,” I said, and it wasn’t a lie. The rumors still linger, but Edward’s sincerity in the park—his willingness to wait—has planted a seed of hope. I spent the day sketching him in my notebook’s margins, his copper hair and blue eyes taking shape, a character I’m learning to trust again.