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𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐘-𝐒𝐈𝐗

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Cora couldn't remember the last time she had found herself in Logan's study.

She felt herself present, reflected in the dark wood of the walls, as though part of her had been been absorbed into the rich Persian rug beneath her feet. All around, her youth echoed. Cora wondered if the idea was selfish. For as much as she acknowledged the Roys as part of her DNA, she did not know if they would have said the same for her.

She still held Olenska in her arms as she walked through the doorway, mirroring Frank's footsteps in an effort to keep herself in motion. The instinct to halt at the threshold had been strong, treading into Logan's inner sanctum had been reserved for when he was distracted, like a party or dinner. The instructive to keep the room clear of intruders extended to all who were not part of his inner circle, making it the perfect place for Shiv and Cora to sneak a bottle or two under their sweaters and hide out beneath the desk.

Shiv's laughter tinkled in her ear as she set eyes upon it now. Nostalgia wormed deep in her gut.

What she would give to go back and do it all over again, with the knowledge she had now. Perhaps even tell her younger self about the path that lay ahead. Cora knew that to be a ridiculous want. Even if she happened upon a time machine, she doubted the young Cora would have paid her any mind. No, she had been heedless through and through. Age hadn't cured her of this, but had simply granted her the ability to admit the flaw.

Logan rose from behind the desk and paced towards her.

She felt her blood run cold beneath her veins. The sweet heat of Tuscany prickled her skin. Frank had not done her the favour of a heads up when it came to Logan's disposition towards her since that fateful night. Cora doubted it was good. Her presence had been a mark against him and she felt the crisp cotton of Roman's shirt in her hand as he approached her now. Their tug of war, a power struggle silent then but promised now to thunder. If Cora were to proclaim love on her own terms, it would be in direct contradiction to the bind Logan and Reagan had set into motion decades before. Doubtless, this would come with a face off with Logan.

But she would do it for him, she realised with a shiver. Oh, she would do it in a heartbeat.

Logan came to a stop in front of Cora. Beside her, she saw Frank's posture buckle. Whatever exchange was to happen, she could not count on her step-father. Much to her surprise, Logan's next action was not a scowl, nor any expression of repulsion. Neither was it friendly.

With great weight, he placed a hand upon her shoulder. His creped skin, weathered and wrinkled, squeezed firm. Logan's face was unreadable, but the longer Cora took him in, the more she saw the shadow of something. Not quite synonymous with respect, but it was as though he were giving her honest consideration for the first time in her life. Like he hadn't pulled her into focus until now.

"Back in the land of the living now, are you?" He asked. Cora nodded. He let out a sound somewhere between a grumble and a hum. "Right. At least the sun looks like it's done you some good."

He let go of her and she breathed a soft sigh of relief. It was better than she could have expected, a bar admittedly set at basement level. She was sure that she heard Frank too exhale with relief.

Logan turned away from the pair, his hands clasping behind his back. With a speed and poise that could be described as leisurely, he began to pace.

"Matsson." He declared, the disdain leeching through. "He's playing hardball."

"I think he wants his ducks to be in a row." Cora offered delicately. She flinched as Logan wheeled around, jabbing a finger in the air.

"I won't be made a patsy." Logan snapped with a curt shake of his head. "He's got his dick in his hand. I won't tolerate his games for much longer. Is he buying or not?"

Cora felt Olenska tense against her chest. With a quick glance down, she stroked her white fur softly, trying her best to assure the cat against what her own instincts were screaming. Peace had been short-lived. Even though Cora was not Matsson, she was the next best thing. Logan would squish her like a bug if displeased enough. She had to play this right.

"He intends to," Cora replied slowly. "He's never said anything to contradict that. He knows there isn't much love lost for me here, and as much as I'm dating him, I don't have a dog in this fight. I want to sale to go through as much as anyone. O-obviously you want it more but ... As much as Frank."

She glanced to her step-father, prompting him to back her up. He cleared his throat and nodded.

"Logan, you know new money. They think they have all the time in the world," Frank murmured. "Matsson's cocky but he's not an idiot. He knows this is an opportunity of a lifetime. Gojo's recent popularity aside, a brand like Waystar has withstood the test of time. It would be unwise for him to let this fall by the wayside."

Logan considered this.

His bushy white brows contorted for a moment, and Cora grew certain that he was seconds away from unleashing a torrent her way. Perhaps she should have asked for Matsson to call in and make the reassurance himself. It was a foolish thought. Matsson played on his own terms, not unlike Logan. Even a request from his own girlfriend would fall on deaf ears.

Finally, Logan huffed a sigh.

"Well, you tell that Swedish fuck to quit with the foreplay." He barked, narrowing his eyes. "I won't be kept waiting much longer."

Olenska made a noise of disagreement. Cora cringed, shushing the cat beneath her breath. Logan seemed only now to realise the presence of the cat. His eyes fell to it, confusion masking frustration. Olenska, for her part, craned her head around to face him. The two made eye contact. When Olenska finally turned away, Logan appeared slightly unnerved.

"Kerry didn't say you were bringing a cat," he muttered under his breath.

"I love to surprise." Cora said, not knowing what else would be appropriate.

A higher power must have been smiling upon her because that very moment, the doors to the study opened and in trudged a procession of dour faces. Cora turned, thankful to face away from Logan and came face to face with Gerri. She cut ahead of the pack, unsmiling, the arch of her cupids bow painted a deep shade of berry. The shape of her mouth pinched at the sight of Cora and she averted her eyes to Logan.

Hugo and Karl marched behind her, and further still, Tom and Greg. Cora sighed with relief and darted towards them. At the sight of Greg, Olenska hissed.

"Oh, she doesn't like me very much." He said, recoiling upon Cora's approach.

"Can you blame her? You stuffed her into a basket and shoved her on my doorstep."

"I did it with good intentions."

"Well, when you learn cat, you can let her know." Cora remarked, shaking her head.

She turned to face the old guard, taking a position at Tom's side. A mist of distraction swirled in his blue eyes. They watched as Logan brusquely shooed the others from crowding him. Clearly his mood had not been elicited by Matsson alone.

As if reading her mind, Tom confirmed this.

"The, um, the kids," he began, "they're, you know, fucking with him."

So Shiv hadn't been making up the PGM deal. Cora's eyebrows arched against her face.

"Is that wise?"

"Not particularly, no," Tom replied. "When have you ever known any of them to be wise?"

"Point taken," Cora said. She quickly lowered her voice. "So, um, how's he taken it? The news."

As if in response, Logan's voice raised like a whip thrown to the air. He began to belligerently swear. She saw Frank flinch. Cora bit her lip.

"Well not ... Not great, as you can see." Tom murmured in reply. With a clench of her heart, Cora realised that Logan was striding towards them.

With menace, he leered at Tom. Cora was surprised that the man was able to hold any sense of composure in front of the harsh twist of Logan's anger. She found herself shrinking backwards, as if making space for his fury.

"Call your wife, Tom. Call your fucking wife and tell her to get her own fucking idea." He snapped, pointing an accusatory finger. Tom nodded meekly beside her. On his other side, Greg cleared his throat.

"U-Uncle Logan, I thought maybe we could have a word?"

As Logan retreated back to the group, followed by Greg, Tom reached into his pocket with a grimace. She could already see him searching for Shiv in his contacts.

"You know why he's over there like a neutered dog?" He asked beneath his breath.

"I have an idea. A very vivid one."

She saw his eyes twitch. They had swivelled momentarily to spy her from his peripherals. His brows rose.

"Quite the party then, isn't it? A real lively romp."

"Why is he telling Logan though?" She said, ignoring the comment.

"Because this place is up to its eyeballs in cameras," Tom murmured in response. "You'll be thrilled to know you unwittingly became part of a sex tape."

"Oh. Great. Excellent. Amazing." So apparently her adolescent alcoholism had never been as secretive as she thought. She made a mental note to never be caught with her pants down in the penthouse if she could help it.

"Mmhmm." He raised his phone to his ear. The dial tone reverberated through his bones, she could hear its muffled ringing from beside him. Seconds later, the busy signal. Tom closed his eyes and sighed. "Typical."

He turned to her in expectancy. Oh no. This was not a call she needed to make. Before she could shake her head, Logan's attention had snapped back to them. Apparently he had the same idea.

"You want to be of any use? Stop chewing the fucking scenery? Ring the failed fiancé. Go on. Give us a show."

Frank cleared his throat. He had seated himself in one of the leather armchairs beside Karl, his hands folded in his lap. For a moment, Cora thought he might step to her defence. Instead, he gestured for her to approach him.

"Delia, I'll take the cat."

She sighed heavily and crossed the room, glancing over her shoulder uncertainly towards Tom. He shot her an apologetic glance. Cora handed off the cat, who allowed Frank to take her in his arms. There was a slight grumble of annoyance from the animal, but it was far from the biggest inconvenience she had suffered that day.

Cora perched herself on the arm of the chair. She pursed her lips as she retrieved her phone. She wouldn't call Roman, not after their encounter earlier, but maybe she could try Shiv again. If she was met with rejection, she could always lie. Then what? Play hot potato with Tom, take turns spamming Shiv's answering machine? It seemed an easier fate than hearing Roman stammer on the other end again.

Relief, followed by foreboding met her the moment the call picked up.

No bid of greeting, though she supposed after her abrupt send off that Shiv was understandably mad. Cora bit her lip. Logan, sensing the call had indeed been answered, gestured towards her furiously to speak.

"Uh, hello? Shiv?"

Breathing. Just breathing. Not this again. Maybe this time he would find it in him to form a word. Despite her cynicism, Cora clutched the phone tightly.

"Is it you?"

There was a sudden loud clatter. Cora winced at the noise, pulling the phone from her ear. Faintly the sound of footsteps approaching.

" ... steal my phone and then throw it, Jesus Christ."

Another rough noise followed by the distortion of skin against the speaker. Cora felt the distinct impression that she had just been plucked from the ground.

"Hello?"

"Oh. You. That makes sense." Shiv muttered. "Look, I'm not doing this right now. Unless you're calling to let me know you wired me some money, this is the end of the conversation. Buh-bye."

Wow, she hadn't even bothered to wait for Cora to confirm that she hadn't footed the bill. She rolled her eyes, shoving her phone into her pocket and turning back to the conversation around her.

The mood had shifted considerably in the short span of time. Everyone around her seemed to be on edge. Tom had retreated to the corner of the room, his phone held to his ear. As they exchanged a glance, he placed a finger to his lips in warning. She found out just why seconds later.

"Gerri, been sent anything funny lately?" Logan asked. He leaned at an angle in his chair, a bemused expression on his worn features. Gerri's face was pinched. "Anything that Cora might be familiar with?"

"I don't ... I don't think that's entirely necessary to say, Logan." Frank said in a low voice. She was at least appreciative that he was sticking up for her on this point. Logan unleashed a snort in response.

"Oh Franky. If only you knew what she was up to while you were taking your nap." Logan waggled a finger at Cora. "I've got a little ditty for you, Cordelia. Ever heard of Roxanne?"

"I would ... Prefer if you didn't speak to her like that." Frank muttered, shifting uncomfortably in the leather chair.

"Why not? Come on, Frank. It's been 40 years. You've gotta have some ammo in the tank. Roast me! I'm insulting your dead wife's little fuck up. Surely it's oiling the cogs."

Cora's jaw tensed. "Leave him alone."

Logan snorted. "Or you could have a shot. Well then, go on. Throw me an insult, would you, sweetheart?"

"I don't know what you expect me to say, other than the obvious." Cora replied sharply. "You're a lech who burned the only people who loved him. You kicked hard and look what you got for your effort. You lost your legacy and now you're selling your empire. You're the king of nothing. Does that work?"

Frank tensed visibly beside her. In the fringes, Tom's lips curled into a cringe. Nearby, Greg chortled nervously. Perhaps she had spoken too soon. Much to her surprised, Logan let out a bark of laughter.

"Finally, some fucking honesty."

"Yeah, glad to oblige I guess."

She settled into an uneasy silence after that, observing the back and forth between Tom and Logan with Olenska squirming in her arms. Obligation kept her still, as much as she wanted to leave after the exchange with Logan. Her ego was bruised despite the fact she had gotten her own hit in, and she could sense the cat's impatience with both the atmosphere and present company.

Soon Tom was off the phone for good. Whatever exchanges he had had with Nan Pierce's staff had been for naught. The offer from the siblings had been enough to thwart their father. Cora's stomach clenched. A victory, and one that did not bode well when it came to the sale. She could only imagine what a wind beneath their sails could mean for the deal.

Things were more fragile than she had originally thought them to be and as it so often was, Cora found her work to be cut out for her.

≪ °❈° ≫

When the sun dropped from the sky, Cora made her way back to Tom's apartment.

After she had dropped Olenska home, she felt the overwhelming urge to leave immediately but her distracted herself with unpacking. A ticking clock had been set into motion after her interactions with Shiv, an unpleasant reminder that she was currently occupying enemy territory. When she had whittled down the time an acceptable amount, she patted Olenska on back and headed out for the second time that day.

Tom greeted her at the door. Though she hadn't called ahead, they both knew why she was there. As she packed what little of her belongings had been left in the guest bedroom, heaping them into a pile in her suitcase, Tom watched. His arms were folded against his chest, the white cotton of his shirt crumpled, hair mussed. Neither spoke for some time. Cora suspected exhaustion at first, but quickly detected he had something else on his mind.

"Thoughts?" He asked finally.

Cora was attempting to fold a turtleneck but quickly gave up. The fabric was thin, maybe it didn't matter if she just tossed it on the pile. She shrugged.

"I'm not sure. Good for them?"

"Does it scare you?"

Cora hummed beneath her breath. Yes, it scared her quite a bit, but she hid the reservation under a headshake.

"Um ... I mean, it could be worse. Maybe it's just a love tap? Just to show they're still, uh, alive and kicking?"

"That was a little more than a light shove," Tom mused. "How long's Logan been after PGM again? Exactly."

"If you're worried it's going to interfere, you shouldn't. I just need to press the right buttons with Lukas. Then it'll all be in the clear." Cora wished it could be that simple. On paper, it should be, but she could not remember the last time a plan of hers had gone off without a hitch. "It has to be. I can't have it any other way."

"So you're certain then, are you?" Tom pressed. "About this Roman business."

She nodded. Tom shifted beside the doorway.

"What?" She asked, glancing over her shoulder. "What's wrong with that?"

"I just wonder, you know, with your history."

"History's important." Cora replied, intentionally missing the point. "Shouldn't disregard history."

"But why not just ride off into the sunset?" Tom asked.

Cora paused as she shoved the last of her clothes into the suitcase. She swiped the strands of hair that had trailed over her shoulders as she straightened upwards to face him.

"You have a good thing going. Not just with Matsson. With yourself."

"I could say the same thing to you," she replied. "All you've done since I've been here is work, sleep and drink that disgusting red wine. Why not date? Why not move on?"

Tom pursed his lips.

"You've, you know, made some great strides. I mean that. You've become a sufferable person. I don't ... I don't know if I could ever say the same thing for Roman. No, I think he's decidedly quite a bad person. You could probably have anyone you wanted. Not even Matsson. Just someone, you know, someone better."

Cora let this thought marinate.

Yes, she was not blind to Roman's shortcomings, to which he had plenty. He was crass, brash, self-aggrandizing slathered in deprecation. On a good day, Roman could be characterised as annoying and painfully immature, indeed his juvenile obsession with pleasing his father despite the obvious cost was something Cora doubted he would ever shake. Implicitly she knew she would always come second to this.

And Roman often condescended to Cora. A product, she suspected, of the fact that her very presence made him uncomfortable. Because she was a loaded gun to him, an unfriendly reminder that he was not the sum all of his rotten parts. That there was someone willing to see the good. This was all without going into his various other eccentricities - the political compass with its crooked North Star, his alleged estrangement from sexuality and blasé attitude to morality.

She was aware of all of these aspects of Roman. There were things she wished she could change, others she had long come to accept. Perhaps she could have had someone better, but if she had been tempted, her earnest effort with Matsson had shown her the truth of the matter. Cora did not want someone better, nor did she want someone worse.

She wanted Roman neither in spite of nor because of everything that he was. No, she wanted him because she knew him no matter the direction of sunlight, no matter the dim. She wanted him because she could search through a crowd and find him, blindfolded and stumbling.

And she had realised that all along, he could have done the same for her if the roles had been reversed.

Her mouth opened to voice all of these thoughts, but the sound of the front door opening stopped her short. In sync, both Cora and Tom's eyes widened. It could only be one person. Quickly Cora pulled the lid of her suitcase closed as Tom swung the guest bedroom shut.

"What are you doing?" Cora hissed beneath her breath as she zipped up the suitcase. With a soft thud, she pulled it onto the ground below. Tom winced at the noise. "What? What's the plan Tom? Are we going to hide in here with all the lights on? Hope she assumes you spontaneously combusted?"

"No, but you could do the right thing and hide under the bed." Tom replied through gritted teeth.

Cora shook her head. "You know she would sniff me out in a heartbeat. She has a sixth sense for this shit."

"Or you could splay out on the floor. Maybe she'd assume I skinned your hide and made a rug out of it as a peace offering ." He looked like this was something he was honestly considering.

"You're obscene."

From outside in the apartment, she heard Shiv's shoes against the hardwood floors. Pacing through the hallway, on the hunt. If Tom didn't use the excuse, Cora was certain Shiv would do the job herself.

It was tempting to hide and pray that she wouldn't be found. That would have been her inclination in the past. The risk, however, was far too greater if she was found in such a compromising position. The implications would vastly outweigh any miniscule benefit. After all, even if she did manage to hide, one conversation with Greg would threaten the truth.

"I'm going out there." Cora announced, her voice still a whisper.

Tom shook his head and moved to bar the door, but she was already swiping him out of the way. Her suitcase handle clutched, she managed to shoulder his attempt to stop her. Cora yanked the door open and found herself face to face with Shiv.

Just as Cora had said. Her spider senses had probably tingled the second she set foot in the apartment. As if as evidence, Shiv raised her hand. She was clutching Cora's cardigan, which Cora had taken off in the living room. With a sudden motion, she shoved it towards Cora. Gingerly, Cora took it.

"What the actual fuck?" Shiv snapped. Her arm fell limply by her side. Tom leaned into the open doorway and Shiv's gaze locked on him. "This is fucking rich. Both of you. This is so fucking rich."

"Shiv, I can explain." Cora began calmly but Shiv shook her head. Her bottom lip quivered. Cora's stomach lurched. Oh god, was she going to cry?

Before the storm could break across Shiv's face, she turned on her heel and started down the hallway. After a beat, Cora followed after her. She could hear Tom's voice catch in his throat, but even if he had tried to stop her, she wouldn't have listened. She let the suitcase go stationary to quicken her pace, rounding the corner in Shiv's wake.

She found Shiv in the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of wine with shaking hands. The moment she saw Cora, she put down the full glass with a sharp clink. Wine spilled over the rim. Cora could smell the sharp sting of pale grapes and fruity aromatics. Her mouth instinctually salivated.

"Didn't bother letting me know? Just figured I'd find out when I walked through the door?"

Shiv was hunched over the counter, her hands gripping the edge. Her hair had been pinned back, accentuating the tired lines beneath her eyes. Her skin was dry, stripped from the circulated air of an airplane cabin. How quickly after their call had she made the commute, Cora wondered.

"I was clearing my things, Shiv." Cora said, wincing at how meek her voice sounded.

Shiv's laughter was barbed. She looked towards the ceiling. Cora knew that Shiv could not bare the sight of her. The break gave her an out. She could turn on her heel and disappear, let Tom handle the fallout on his own. Her decision to remain rooted was not from protectiveness though. It would be cutting a live wire to leave on this note. She had to try and salvage this.

"How long have you been living here?" Shiv asked sharply. She still would not meet Cora's eye but she had at least raised her wine glass.

"Not long. A month."

"So long enough to have thrown me a line."

"I didn't want my first conversation with you in six months to be ... To be about the fact I was staying here."

"Oh, because this talk is so much better," Shiv muttered. "Guess I should've expected this, right? It's on brand. Starting fucking wild fires."

Cora bristled. "I didn't mean to start anyth-"

"Cora, for fuck's sake, don't start." Shiv snapped, turning to face Cora finally.

Her eyes were bloodshot. She shivered as though caught out in an icy wind. The wine in her glass rippled, like the surface of a pond disturbed by a stone. It must have taken all her strength to keep her emotions at bay. Cora's chest welled with guilt.

"Do you know what it's been like? Picking up the pieces after you left, after everything with my dad? After Tom? He fucked us all, but I'm sure you're more than aware. Roman he saw him slip you the keys. A real knight in shining armour, right?"

"Shiv, I-"

"No. Shut up. No, Cora. I'm putting my foot down." Shiv said, her voice tremoring. "You didn't think at all to call but you had plenty of time to show up here and settle in like I never ... Like I never existed. Do you know how shitty that is? Not even a text. 'Hey, I'm sleeping in your apartment, keeping your side of the bed warm!'. Was opening an app too much for you between your busy schedule of meetings with the 'Fuck Shiv' club?"

"I never slept in your bed, Shiv." Cora offered pathetically.

"Yeah, because that's the point." She rolled her eyes, taking a swig of wine.

It dribbled down the sides of her mouth, the glass raised too high. With a swipe of the back of her hand, she wiped it away.

"Always dancing around the actual fact of the matter. You only ever come to me when it's convenient for you. You never tell me anything. I guarantee you that whatever you've said to Tom in the last month is more than you've bothered telling me in the last year. You know I don't care about you and Roman, so what's the excuse? Is it just that you don't like me? Is that it?"

Cora remained silent, her cheeks stinging with heat. When Shiv received no answer, she continued.

"And another thing, I'm always cleaning up your messes. Yeah I know it wasn't technically your fault, but the Gerri stuff? I stuck my neck out. I told dad to fire her, not that he listened. I handled it. And for the past six months, I've been scraping Roman off the pavement just to keep him in one piece, hoping that when you found a little sanity, you'd do the right thing.

"But you didn't. In fact, you did the absolute worst thing. You started fucking around with Matsson, my dad and now this. You're a shitty fucking friend, Cora. A shitty person, and if I'm being honest, it's been a relief not having you around."

The quiet that followed was broke only with Shiv's sniffles. She scrunched up her nose as she struggled to contain herself. Cora closed her eyes.

"You're right."

Shiv recoiled as if Cora had slapped her. Irritation contorted her lips and she squinted as though trying to steady the image of Cora in front of her. Cora's conviction held steady, sharp in the glint of her eyes. Despite the frenzy of Shiv's words, she had maintained a steady heartbeat, the sensation grounding her firmly in the moment.

"You're right," Cora repeated, "and I'm sorry. I have no excuses. I shouldn't have stayed here and I knew it was wrong. I should have spoken to you more. I should have called. I should have accounted for how you would feel. I put myself before you and I've been a bad friend. I think I always held a grudge, deep down, for what happened over all those summers. I've been taking it out on you in slow motion. I'm sorry."

Shiv made a noise of confusion that could have been mistaken for a bark of laughter if she hadn't looked so utterly bewildered.

"A-are you drunk right now?!" Shiv retorted.

Cora held up her hands, as if to show she was unarmed. "No. I haven't drank since the wedding."

"How am I supposed to believe that?"

"You're not." Cora said with a sigh. "You don't have to take me at your word. But you'll see. I've made a lot of changes, Shiv. I've realised a lot of things."

"So you're sticking around?" Shiv folded her arms across her chest. Her bottom lip was ever so slightly protruding in a pout. "Not going to run off for another extended hiatus any time soon?"

Cora shook her head.

"I'm around forever." She replied. "I promise."

Shiv swallowed audibly. She glanced away, eyes not quite focusing on anything. Thought overtook her.

"You better mean that, Cora. For everyone's sake, even yours," Shiv muttered. "Because fuck, I don't know how many more chances you've got here anymore. With me or anyone else."

The suggestion of Roman billowed in the silence. She wanted to press for more information, but it was not the right time. He was not the only person who required her attention.

"I do, Shiv, I mean it ... But I get that words can only express so much. You'll have to wait and see. I'll show you. I'll show you I mean it."

This silenced the other woman. It was only in the silence, as her own words echoed back to her, that Cora heard the strength of her own conviction. She stood with her chest pressed outwards, shoulders squared, her head held high so as square her gaze with Shiv's. Cora was several inches taller than the other woman, though she never gave the impression of being so. Much of who she was had been shrouded in a meekness that had taken time to shake.

Now it was unmistakable. Warmth flooded her chest. She had changed and this was only just the beginning.

Cora left the apartment not long after that. She sensed lingering might break the lull she had managed to instil in Shiv. Suitcase in hand, she tread the pavement outside to a nearby bodega, where she picked out a few cans of food for Olenska before flagging down a taxi.

In the confines of her apartment, she picked out a chipped shallow dish and emptied the cat food. Olenska's purr roared in her throat and the sound soothed her pulse to a meander. As she threw the dirty spoon in the sink, Cora leaned against the counter, folding beneath the events of the day. She pressed her cheek to the cold surface, arms splayed in front of her. The muscles of her shoulders ached sweetly as tension spilled from them.

She needed a beat to catch her breath. Another day like this might take her out completely.

In the silence, Shiv's words rang in her ears. Slowly Cora straightened upwards, taking in a deep breath. If she had upset one sibling with her radio silence, maybe it was best she get ahead of the curb.

In the office, she collapsed at her writing desk.

Phone in hand, she massaged her temples as she tried to formulate the perfect text. Should she just come out with it? 'I'm back in New York. Let's be together.' No, that was crass. Her true feelings deserved justice, not the bland sans-serif of a blue bubble. It was also not an option to open too casually. It was a tightrope that even her months of writing did not aid. Whatever she said had to seem genuine, with just the right nudge of vulnerability.

[ TEXT: to Roman ] I wanted to try and be the first to tell you I'm back.

[ TEXT: to Roman ] I'd like to talk if that's ok.

[ TEXT: to Roman ] Soon.

Cora was going to be sick. She rushed to swipe out of the app but before she could, a read receipt appeared beneath her messages. Audibly she gasped, air hitting like a bullet to the back of her throat. A grey bubble appeared. He was typing.

It stuttered in and out of existence for what felt like the longest time. Seconds stretched agonizingly slow. Then there was a long pause where nothing happened, enough time for Cora to fear that he had thought better. She considered sending him another message, just to check her bubble would not turn green in a telltale sign that she had been blocked.

Somehow, she maintained patience. For her efforts, she was soon rewarded.

[ TEXT: Roman ] ???????

[ TEXT: Roman ] send snatch

[ TEXT: to Roman ] Um??

[ TEXT: Roman ] Forget it.

[ TEXT: Roman ] sorry that was my friend

[ TEXT: Roman ] you send this to the right person? x

[ TEXT: to Roman ] Yes.

[ TEXT: Roman ] oh ok

Cora closed her phone. This was almost too much to bare. What circle of hell was this? She had been so stupid to think that just because she was suddenly ready to come clean that somehow all would be forgiven. That was not how people worked, least of all Roman.

She placed her phone flat down on the desk. Seconds later it vibrated. She stared at it like it was a bomb. Her fingers itched. A moment of hovering before she snatched it back up.

[ TEXT: Roman ] yeah we can talk

[ TEXT: Roman ] you'll be at the dinner tomorrow right?

[ TEXT: Roman ] so i'll see you anyway

[ TEXT: to Roman ] Yeah, ok.

[ TEXT: to Roman ] Cool

[ TEXT: Roman ] cool

[ TEXT: Roman ] c u then xx

"You text like a teenage girl," Cora muttered. She resisted typing it out, not wanting to test fate. Yes, a satisfactory outcome. She would see him tomorrow. The thought thrilled as much as it wrung her insides.

Tomorrow, then whatever came after. She would have him soon, and this time she would hang on for dear life.