Mary could barely meet her gaze. When she did, her eyes held a million questions and a world of pain. Nora replaced the papers in the folder in order to keep her hands busy so that she didn’t reach out to soothe her.

“Mr. Beck? I believe Miss Trask is ready to resume her place. Back to work, Miss Trask.”

Nora turned on her heel and walked briskly away. She kept walking until she was clear of the building and out of sight of prying eyes. She leaned against the back of a partially constructed support building and rested her head against the concrete. What had she done?

You did what you had to do. You had to be harder on her than on anyone else. Otherwise, you’ll be found out. Even so, she thought she might throw up. I love you, Mary. I’m sorry. You left me no choice.

She pushed off the building and headed back to her office, where she closed the door. She didn’t want to be disturbed for the rest of the day. She was feeling disturbed enough as it was.

Mary lay staring at the ceiling in her dorm room. She wasn’t surprised that sleep eluded her, even though she was dead on her feet. Five days—that’s how long it had been since she’d last seen Nora. She hadn’t even caught a glimpse of her at work.

She closed her eyes tightly as an image of Nora standing in front of her cubicle, disappointment etched in her features, played in her mind. It was cruel to have that be the last memory she had of her. All I did was have a small lapse in concentration. She was cruel, cold, and heartless.

Mary groaned, as her body replayed a very different memory. This one featured Nora, the expression on her face otherworldly, her mouth forming an “o” as her body shuddered in pleasure. She turned over and buried her head in the pillow.

Was this how Sam had felt about her? Like he couldn’t breathe without her, like nothing in the world mattered except the next time they could be together? If so, she pitied him. Had she understood better what love was, she would’ve been kinder to him. It wouldn’t have changed the outcome—after all, she wasn’t in love with him—but she would’ve handled the situation more compassionately had she truly understood the nature of unrequited love.

Unrequited love… That wasn’t what this was. Nora had professed her love the last time they were together. She’d kissed her at midnight. That hadn’t changed this quickly, it couldn’t have.

She rolled onto her back again. She simply couldn’t go on this way. She had to know; she simply had to see her. She found a piece of stationery and a pen and carefully, painstakingly crafted a note.