Every so often, they’d catch each other’s eye and share a knowing smile - the kind that passes between women who understand something unspoken about the same person.

When Daniel burst through the door, his usual polish was nowhere to be seen. His tie hung loose, hair tousled as if he’d been running his hands through it repeatedly.

At the sound of his entrance, Juniper looked up from her chair, her hands stilling in her lap where they’d been fidgeting with her sleeve. The sight of him - disheveled, wrong somehow - made her eyes lift and almost freeze in place. She watched him like she’d watch a stranger who’d wandered into the wrong room, except she couldn’t quite manage to look away.

She remained perfectly still, as if any sudden movement might shatter whatever this was… her throat tightening around words she hadn’t planned to say.