Page 10 of The Valentine Agenda

Hannah nodded, already thinking about what Mr. Thompson might need that week, what Mrs. Chen might need help with, what anyone else might need that could give her an excuse tobe busy. To be needed. To be anything except the center of attention.

But she let Sophie keep her plans. It was easier than explaining why doing for others felt safer than letting others do for her.

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Hannah had paused to adjust the forever-crooked painting in the lobby—Lake Superior in autumn—when Ray the superintendent emerged from the maintenance room, pushing his cleaning cart with unusual urgency.

"Did you hear?" He glanced around the lobby before lowering his voice. "About Mr. Park and his girlfriend?"

Hannah's hand stilled on the frame. "No," she said carefully, trying to keep her voice neutral. "Is everything okay?"

"They broke up. Big scene at some fancy restaurant." Ray started polishing the lobby's brass mailboxes. "My cousin works at Le Petit Jardin—you know, that French place where they charge you extra if you want your food actually cooked?" He shook his head. "Said she left him right in the middle of dinner. Even paid her own check to make a point."

Hannah's heart did a treacherous little flutter that she immediately tried to suppress. "That's... unfortunate," she managed.

"Unfortunate?" Ray snorted. "Half the women in the building are probably already planning their 'accidental' elevatorencounters. You know Olivia from 12B has been watching him like a hawk since she moved in."

Hannah thought of Olivia—tall, sophisticated, exactly the type of woman James usually noticed. The type who didn't spend their mornings straightening lobby furniture or their evenings helping elderly residents with their groceries.

"Well, it's none of our business," she said, blushing slightly as she adjusted the painting one final time.

"None of our business," Ray agreed, though his tone suggested this wouldn't stop him from sharing the news with everyone else in the building. "But I will say, it's about time someone showed him the world doesn't revolve around his schedule. My cousin said he was more worried about a wine stain on his shirt than anything she was saying."

That detail should have dampened Hannah's hope—it certainly revealed something about James's priorities. Instead, she found herself wondering if he'd managed to save the shirt, then immediately felt foolish for the thought.

"I should head up," she said, gathering her teaching bag. "Parent-teacher conferences this evening."

"Sure, sure." Ray was already eyeing Mrs. Peterson coming through the front door, clearly eager to share his news.

Hannah pressed the elevator button, her reflection in the polished doors looking exactly the same as it had yesterday. Same sensible shoes, same neat ponytail, same Hannah who definitely shouldn't be feeling this spark of possibility just because James Park was suddenly single.

Stop it, she told herself firmly.He doesn't even know your name. He's never once noticed you. And anyway, you heard Ray—he cared more about his shirt than his girlfriend's feelings.

But as the elevator rose, she couldn't help remembering how James always held the door for Mrs. Peterson, even while checking his email. How he'd once helped Mr. Thompson pick up scattered mail without being asked.

The elevator dinged at her floor. Hannah stepped out, then paused. She should go straight to her apartment. Should plan for tomorrow's lessons, prepare for conferences, do anything except stand here wondering if James was home, if he was upset, if he needed—

"No," she said aloud, forcing herself to walk to her door. "Absolutely not."

Inside her apartment, she dropped her bag and leaned against the closed door. This was ridiculous. She was ridiculous. James Park's relationship status shouldn't affect her heart rate like this. Shouldn't make her imagine possibilities that would never happen.

But her fingers were already reaching for her phone, already composing a text to the one person who would understand exactly how pathetic she was being.

Hannah sent the text anyway:

You'll never believe what just happened.

Sophie's response was immediate:Unless a student finger-painted a masterpiece, I don't want to hear about your day until after wine.

James broke up with his girlfriend. Well, she broke up with him. At Le Petit Jardin.

Three dots appeared instantly.Hannah Miller. Don't you dare.

I'm not doing anything!Hannah protested.Just sharing building news.

Uh huh. Listen to me carefully: Parent-teacher conferences. Focus on those. NOT on your newly-single neighbor.

Hannah put her phone away, pulled out her conference notes, and absolutely did not think about whether Le Petit Jardin's wine stains would come out at the dry cleaner.

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