"There never seemed to be enough hours in the day, but even if there were, he feared
they'd still slip through his fingers—lost to deadlines, distractions, and
the widening gap between them"

I hunched over my desk, my pencil scratching across the graph paper as I tried to get this damn playground layout just right. Late-morning sunlight poured through the office windows, lighting up the polished floors, but I barely noticed it. All I saw were the lines on this page—too sharp, too crowded, too wrong.

The office hummed around me despite my closed door, a steady background noise of clacking keyboards and muffled conversations. It faded into nothing as I focused on the design. Though, Yolanda's scream-laugh kept everyone on their toes any time she answered the phone.

I was working on an apartment complex. The building's design is supposed to feel welcoming, livable. But right now, it just looks... like... a grid of sterile boxes.
It needed breathing room. The courtyard should feel like a space where families can relax, not just pass through on their way inside. And the apartments themselves—they need light, warmth, enough room for a family to actually live, not just exist.

Frustrated, I tapped the eraser against the desk, staring at the draft like it's supposed to give me answers.

My phone buzzed, vibrating against the wood. I ignored it at first, but it kept going. Finally, I dropped the pencil and checked the screen.

Morgan. Of course.

I scrolled through her messages, shaking my head even as a smile tugs at my mouth. There are at least ten, all from the last hour.

(7:57𝚊𝚖) 𝙳𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝! 🥰(7:59𝚊𝚖)𝙸𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚊𝚗?
(9:20𝚊𝚖) 𝙼𝚊𝚛𝚢 𝚠𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚝𝚎𝚡𝚝 𝚖𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔😔
(9:32𝚊𝚖)𝙽𝚎𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚢𝚘𝚞...
(11:03𝚊𝚖) 𝚐𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚊 𝚠𝚊𝚡 𝙸 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚃𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚢 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜𝚗'𝚝 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚠. 𝙾𝚛 𝚖𝚊𝚢𝚋𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍. 𝚂𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚜 𝚒𝚝

It went on but I put my phone down so I could get back to work.

Typical Morgan. Usually I reply to her texts, but time is something I didn't have.

The phone buzzed again, pulling me from my thoughts. It wasn't Morgan this time.

𝙲𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚅𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚗 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝙼𝚊𝚢𝚘𝚛!

I let out a dry laugh, deleting the automated message before it could finish. As much as I wished him luck, I didn't have the energy to think about his campaign.

Rubbing a hand over my face, the lines on the graph paper blurred when I tried to refocus. No matter how much time I spent here, there was always more to do. The deadlines piled up, the pressure built, and I started losing the little things—like Morgan's texts.

I exhaled slowly and straightened in my chair. I didn't have time to sit there thinking about how I don't have time. I picked up my pencil again and forced myself back into the sketch.

I paused for a moment, though, sitting back. The faint smile across my lips faded.

Suddenly, I was unsure if I could take on this project. Like Morgan, I probably bit off more than I could chew with this.
It's is a lot of added responsibility when I had so much already with the wedding planning. I just didn't want to get caught up, for fuck's sake, Nia was already riding me about being too distracted. As big as the project is, I didn't want to dive into it just to not take it seriously or put it on the back burner. I couldn't afford anymore sets backs with this company.

The faint hum of my computer filled the silence in my office. I leaned back in my chair, staring at the blueprint on my screen. The apartment complex was almost perfect—almost—but something still felt off. I rubbed my temples, trying to force the solution to come to me.

"Chris!" Andy's voice boomed as he practically kicked the door open. A sandwich dangled from one hand, the other gripping a bottle of some bright-green smoothie. "Man, do you ever stop? You know, normal people eat lunch, right?"

He flopped into the chair across from me, the sandwich paper crinkling loudly as he unwraps it.

I glanced at him, unamused. "I'll eat when I'm done."

"You've been saying that since this morning. Spoiler alert: you're never done." He took a massive bite of his sandwich and grinned through it, completely oblivious to the silence I'd been savoring before he barged in.

Andy always managed to bring chaos with him, but at least it's harmless chaos. Most of the time.

Andy made himself comfortable in the chair, feet kicked up on the edge of my desk, sandwich crumbs scattered across his mouth. "So, how's the wedding planning going, Groomzilla?"

I rolled my eyes, trying not to smirk. "First of all, I'm not a 'Groomzilla.' This is Morgan's thing. I'm just there to nod and occasionally say, 'That looks great.'"

"Ah, letting her take charge," Andy said, nodding sagely. "Smart man."

I shook my head, but his easy banter chipped away at the tension I'd been carrying all morning. "What about you? Lucy drop any hints about marriage, yet?"

"Marriage? Nah, we're taking it easy. Besides, who needs all that when I've got this sandwich?" He waved it dramatically, grinning.

I couldn't help but chuckle. "You really set the bar high for romance, D."

He popped the last bite in his mouth, chewed, then pointed at my screen. "So, what's this? You redesigning a prison or something?"

"It's an apartment complex," I corrected Andy, pushing his feet off my desk. "Low-income housing. But I'm trying to work in something for the kids—a playground, maybe."

Andy chewed thoughtfully, which is rare. "A playground, huh? That's not bad. You could tie it into Morgan's whole wellness thing, like, I don't know, a community garden or an outdoor fitness setup for parents while the kids play."

Eyebrow raised, I glanced at him. "Since when are you into community outreach?"

"Since right now," he answered, shrugging. "Look, I'm just saying, it could kill two birds with one stone. You build the community, she raises awareness for it. Win-win."

I leaned back in my chair, letting the idea sink in. "Not a terrible idea."

"Admit it, Chris— it's a genius idea." Andy grinned, leaning forward with a glint in his eye. "But seriously, don't overthink it. You've got good instincts, you're the most talented architect in the south. You've got this."

For all his obnoxious charm, Andy had a way of grounding me, even when he didn't realize it.

5:47PM

The office was quiet, the kind of stillness that only came after everyone else had packed up for the day. I saved my work, stretching out the knots in my shoulders, when the sound of heels clicking against the tile pulled my attention.

"Nia," I said, straightening up as she appeared in the doorway, draped in her signature purple. She carried herself with the calm authority that had made her a force in this business. "You're still here?"

"I could ask you the same," she said, her gaze sweeping the room before landing on me. "It's late, Chris. Go home. I'm sure Morgan's wondering where you are."

I smiled faintly. "I'm wrapping up. Just... fine-tuning the apartment complex design."

She stepped inside, crossing her arms as she studied me. "Fine-tuning, or second-guessing?"

Caught. I hesitated, then gestured to my screen. "Actually, I've been thinking about adding a playground to the design. Something for the kids in the complex—safe, practical, but more than just swings and slides. Maybe something that could tie into community events, like a garden or an outdoor fitness area for families."

Nia raised an eyebrow, her expression unreadable. "A playground? On this budget?"

"It wouldn't be extravagant," I explained quickly. "But it's an investment in the people who'll live there. This isn't just housing; it's supposed to be a home. A place where kids can grow up safe and parents can feel proud to live there."

She tilted her head, considering me for a long moment. I braced myself, half-expecting her to shut the idea down.

"Chris, you're asking me to approve changes that will increase costs on an already tight project," she said, her tone measured. "But... I like where your head's at. If you can refine the design and make it work within our constraints, I'll take a look."

Relief washed over me, and I nodded. "You know I'll make it work."

"Good." Her sharp eyes softened just slightly. "This project matters to you, doesn't it?"

"It does," I admitted.

She studied me again, then nodded. "All right. I've been hard on you lately, but that's because I want you focused— I believe in you, Chris." With that, she turned, her purple coat flowing behind her as she left.

As the door closed, I leaned back in my chair, a flicker of excitement sparking beneath the exhaustion. Nia's approval wasn't just a win for the project—it was a reminder that this idea, this vision, could actually make a difference.

➤

It was already dark when I pulled into the driveway, but the house looked even darker inside. Morgan's car was parked out front, so I knew she was home—but the stillness felt... off.

Duke and Stevie were sprawled on the front lawn instead of inside the house, their ears perking up as I pulled into the driveway. They let out a few welcoming barks before trotting over, tails wagging, and followed me inside once I unlocked the door.

I stepped into the house, kicking the door shut behind me. The silence hit first—not the kind of peaceful quiet we usually shared, but something heavier. Lonely.

I set my bag down and glanced toward the kitchen. No sign of Morgan. No text from her about reservations. No dinner waiting. I tried not to let it sting, but it did. Wednesdays were supposed to be ours, a break from everything else.

I sighed and stepped out of the kitchen, only to find Morgan sprawled on the rug in the living room.
Her planner was still spread across the coffee table, buried under HOA notes, fabric swatches, and wedding to-do lists. And there she was, curled up on the couch, fast asleep amidst the chaos. Her iPad was balanced precariously on the armrest, the screen still glowing.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. She looked so small, wrapped in her (my) sweatshirt, her blonde hair spilling over her face. I could see the tension even in her sleep—the slight furrow in her brow, her lips pressed together. She was exhausted, and I knew why.

She didn't mean to forget. She didn't mean to leave me standing here feeling... forgotten.

But it still hurt.

I grabbed the blanket from the back of the couch and carefully draped it over her. She shifted slightly but didn't wake. For a moment, I just stood there, looking at her, my chest tightening with a mix of love and something heavier.

I sat down beside her, taking her hand gently in mine. Her fingers twitched but didn't close around mine the way they usually did.

This wasn't the first time something had felt off, but tonight, it felt sharper. Like a crack that might spread if we didn't fix it.

I love her. God, did I love her. But love didn't erase the distance that had crept between us. It didn't erase the nights like this, when I came home and felt like I didn't belong in her world anymore.

I decided to order Italian through DoorDash—Morgan mentioned earlier that she was craving it. At least when she wakes up, there'll be something waiting for her. It just won't be me.

I squeezed her hand, my thumb brushing over her knuckles.

We'd been through worse than this. Malcolm. Sabrina. The lies. The danger. If we could survive all that, we could survive wedding plans and nosy neighbors.

But this wasn't about survival. It was about us.

I sat there a while longer, letting the thoughts swirl, until one finally landed.

Whatever it took, I wouldn't let this crack grow into something we couldn't repair. We've come this far. I'd find a way to remind her—and myself—that we were still in this together.

➤

➤

A/n: Hey readers, I'm trying to change the writing from present tense POV to past tense I just like it better and it'll be easier, so moving forward it will be past tense instead. Thanks for reading!
-Nat