Lena Lena sat at her desk, the afternoon sun slanting through the blinds, casting long shadows across the room. A neat stack of resumes lay in front of her, each marked with David’s meticulous notes. He had taken over the scheduling entirely, streamlining the process so efficiently that she hadn’t even had to glance at her calendar all week. Every candidate had arrived on time, armed with polished resumes and thoughtful answers to her questions. There had been some standouts, a few she could genuinely see fitting into the role. Trustworthy, capable, loyal—all the qualities she needed in someone who would have such close access to her work and life. She looked at the clock. The last interview was scheduled to begin in a few minutes but now, as she glanced at the final resume in the stack, something was off. There was no name at the top. Just a blank space where it should have been, followed by a thorough list of qualifications and skills that immediately caught her attention. She frowned, flipping through the pages. It was an impressive resume but the omission of a name struck her as odd. The knock at her office door came promptly at 4:00. “Come in,” Lena called, setting the resume down and straightening in her chair. The door opened, and there he was—David, standing in the doorway, freshly shaven, wearing a neatly pressed button-down and holding a folder under his arm. For a moment, Lena just stared, her brain struggling to catch up with what her eyes were seeing. “What are you doing here?” she asked, her tone sharp, though her voice wavered slightly. David st epped inside, closing the door behind him. “I’m here for the interview,” he said, his tone calm but laced with nerves. He gestured to the empty chair across from her desk. “May I sit?” Lena’s jaw tightened as she leaned back, crossing her arms. “You can’t be serious.” “I’m completely serious,” he said, his gaze steady as he sat down. “You’re looking for a secretary. I’m applying for the job.” She let out a short, incredulous laugh. “David, this isn’t funny. What are you doing?” “I’m showing you that I can do this,” he said, his voice firm but earnest. “You’re looking for someone who can anticipate your needs, who can ke ep your schedule running smoothly, who can handle the chaos of your work life and make it easier for you to focus on what matters. That’s what I’ve been doing for years, Lena. Let me prove it.” Her eyes narrowed as she studied him. “You realize how absurd this is, right? We’re in the middle of a divorce. You’re about to be my ex- husband.” “I know,” he said, his tone softening. “But I’m also someone who knows you better than anyone else. I know how you take your coffee, how you like your emails sorted, which meetings you dread the most and how to make them less painful. I know what kind of support you need because I’ve done it before. And... I still want to do it even after you divorce me.” Lena shook her head, her emotions swirling. “David, this isn’t about competence. It’s about boundaries. About trust. About everything that’s happened between us.” “I know that too,” he said, leaning forward slightly. “But I also know that trust is something you build, and I’m willing to work for it. I’m not asking you to forgive me. I’m not even asking for a second chance as your husband. I’m asking for the chance to help you. To be useful to you. To support you in the way I should have all along.” Her throat tightened as his words hit her, cutting through the wall she’d tried so hard to maintain. She wanted to dismiss him, to tell him to leave, but the sincerity in his eyes made it impossible to look away. “You’ve interviewed great candidates,” he continued, his voice steady. “But none of them care about you the way I do. None of them will put their heart into this job the way I will. Because for me, it’s not just a job. It’s... it’s a way to be there for you, even if it’s just in this small way.” Lena stared at him, her mind racing. She
thought about all the resumes, all the polished answers she’d heard over the past week. None of those candidates had made her feel this way—this mix of confusion, frustration, and something achingly close to hope. Finally, she exhaled, breaking the heavy silence. “David, this is completely unprofessional.” “I know,” he said quietly. “But I had to try.” For a moment, she said nothing, her gaze locked on his. Then she picked up his resume, flipping through it with an unreadable expression. “Fine,” she said at last, her voice cool. “We’ll do this interview properly. But don’t expect any special treatment.” David smiled faintly, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” And as she began asking questions, her heart raced with emotions she wasn’t ready to name. * * * David had dressed for the occasion: crisp shirt, tie knotted perfectly, his posture attentive but not stiff. Yet beneath the veneer of professionalism, his hands betrayed him, fidgeting slightly where they rested on his lap. His face was calm, but Lena could see the faint tension in his jaw, the way his eyes searched hers as if trying to gauge her mood. She’d interviewed a dozen candidates by now, each more polished and qualified than the last. But this? This wasn’t just about the secretary role. It wasn’t even really about the job. It was about him. It was about her. It was about them. “You know this is ridiculous,” Lena began, breaking the silence, her tone clipped. David didn’t flinch. “I know how it looks,” he said carefully. “But I’m serious about this.” “About being my secretary,” Lena said, arching an eyebrow. “Not my husband. My secretary.” David’s lips twitched, the ghost of a smile appearing before he quickly smoothed it away. “Yes. Your secretary,” he said, his voice steady. “Because that’s the job you’re hiring for.” Lena leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. “You’ve been my husband for years, David. Why do you think you can suddenly st ep into this role? It’s not the same thing.” “I know it’s not,” he admitted, his gaze unwavering. “But I also know I can do it. I’ve done it before, in a way. Organizing your schedule, managing your workload, handling the details so you could focus on what mattered most—those were things I loved doing for you.” Her chest tightened at his words, but she didn’t let it show. “You were my partner,” she said. “That’s different.” David nodded slowly. “It is. But if being your secretary is the only way I can support you now, then I’ll take it. Because, Lena, making your life easier, helping you succeed—that’s what I want to do. That’s what I’ve always wanted to do.” She looked down at the not epad, her fingers toying with the pen. “And if I hire you,” she said, her voice quieter now, “what happens when it’s not enough? When you want more?” Her eyes flicked up to meet his before she quickly added, “Professionally, I mean.” David’s breath hitched, and for a moment, he simply looked at her, the weight of her question lingering in the air between them. Finally, he leaned forward slightly, his voice low but unwavering. “This is my dream job, Lena,” he said, the sincerity in his tone undeniable. “This will always be my dream job. For as long as I live.” For a moment, neither of them spoke. The tension between them was palpable, thick with unspoken words and unresolved feelings. Lena’s eyes flicked to the resumes on her desk, then back to him. “You know this isn’t just about the job,” she said finally, her voice almost a whisper. “I know,” David said, leaning forward slightly. “And I know I have no right to ask for another chance—not as your husband. But if there’s even the smallest part of you that believes I can still be good for you, in any way, then let me prove it.” Her throat tightened, and she looked away, staring out the window at the city beyond. She thought of the life they had built together, the life he had shattered with his betrayal. She thought of Italy, of the clarity she’d found there, the realization that her love for him hadn’t disappeared, no matter how much she wished it had. When she turned back to him, her eyes were sharp, but her
voice was steady. “You understand this isn’t just about filing papers or answering emails. If I give you this job, you’ll be under my scrutiny every second. And I won’t hesitate to fire you if you fall short.” David nodded, his expression resolute. “I understand.” Lena leaned forward, her gaze piercing. “Then tell me why I should trust you.” David met her eyes, and for the first time in a long time, she saw something there that wasn’t guilt or shame. It was hope. “Because I know I don’t deserve it,” he said, his voice low but firm. “But I’m going to earn it, Lena. Every single day.” Her heart ached at his words, the sincerity in them cutting through the armor she’d built around herself. She wanted to believe him, but she wasn’t sure she could. Not yet. “I’ll think about it,” she said, her tone clipped again as she straightened in her chair, putting distance between them. “You’ll hear from me when I’ve made my decision.” David stood, his movements slow and deliberate. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “For considering me.” As he walked to the door, Lena watched him go, her emotions warring within her. This wasn’t just about hiring a secretary. This was about everything—trust, forgiveness, love. And as much as she hated to admit it, part of her wanted to take the chance. On him. On them. * * * Lena st epped into her rented apartment, letting the door close softly behind her. The quietness of the space was almost oppressive, broken only by the faint hum of the refrigerator in the kitchenette. She set her bag down on the small table by the door and slipped off her shoes, her bare feet cool against the hardwood floor. The apartment was tidy, almost sterile, a place that looked lived-in but didn’t feel it. Everything was functional, nothing personal. The furniture was tasteful but generic—a couch, a coffee table, a small dining set. The only picture was the one photo she’d reluctantly unpacked of herself with Emily and Gavin. She’d placed it on the shelf near the window, a feeble attempt to inject some warmth into the space. But it didn’t feel like home. Home was a place that wrapped around you, that carried the echoes of your life in its walls. This apartment, for all its convenience, carried no memories, no laughter, no history. It was a way station, not a destination. She walked into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water, leaning against the counter as her mind drifted. The interview with David r eplayed in her thoughts, his words lingering longer than she wanted them to. She hadn’t known what to expect when he walked through that door— confidence, maybe, or desperation—but what she had seen was something de eper. Earnestness. Hope. Lena closed her eyes, the glass cool against her lips as she sipped. This apartment was hers, a symbol of her ind ependence, her new beginning. But standing here, surrounded by its cold, impersonal surfaces, she couldn’t help but remember what home had felt like when David was there. The warmth of his laugh filling the living room. The way he’d leave his coffee cup just slightly off-center on the kitchen counter, no matter how many times she nudged it back. The faint scent of his cologne on the throw pillows. The way his presence filled every corner, made every space feel alive. She set the glass down, staring at the cabinets that weren’t hers, at the counter that didn’t carry the faint scratches of years of use. This place was temporary. It didn’t have the quiet intimacy of the life she had shared with him. She hated how much she missed it. Shaking her head, Lena walked to the couch and sat down, pulling her knees up to her chest. She had told herself she was moving forward, creating something new, something just for her. But tonight, as the city outside her window buzzed with life, she felt like she was standing still, caught between the person she had been and the person she was trying to become. Her phone buzzed on the coffee table, breaking her reverie. She reached
for it, half-hoping it was David, though she didn’t know what she’d say if it was. But it wasn’t him. Just an email from one of the candidates she’d interviewed earlier, thanking her for the opportunity. She stared at the screen for a moment before setting it down again. The apartment was silent once more, and the weight of the emptiness pressed down on her. Lena sank de eper into the couch, her head resting against the cushion as her thoughts drifted. She remembered the other night, when David had been here, sitting at her small table with the stack of resumes spread out in front of him. His shirt sleeves had been rolled up, his focus intent as he sifted through the papers, occasionally glancing up to ask her a question or make a wry comment. For a few hours, the apartment hadn’t felt so cold. The air had been filled with the quiet hum of their shared task, the easy rhythm of him helping her, of them working together. It had felt like home then, the way it used to feel when they’d tackled a problem as a team, their lives intertwined in small but meaningful ways. Now, without him, the space felt empty again, as though he’d taken that fleeting warmth with him when he left. This place was hers, but it didn’t feel like it. Not yet. Not without him.