Page 60 of The Valentine Agenda

The heating was next. She'd been planning to talk to maintenance about the community room's temperature—the elderly residents always felt the cold more keenly. But when she arrived one morning, the room was already perfectly warm, the old radiator humming contentedly instead of its usual stuttering wheeze.

"Must've fixed itself," Ray said when she asked, suddenly very interested in adjusting a picture frame that didn't need adjusting.

Then on Thursday, Mrs. Chen appeared with coffee from Hannah's favorite shop.

Mrs Chen had never brought her coffee before. Only tea.

Hannah stared at the coffee. A splash of cream, no sugar. Exactly how she took it.

"Is this from—" she started, but stopped.

Things just kept... happening.

The sticky door in the library that always caught? Suddenly smooth.

The window in the community room that let in drafts? Perfectly sealed

Every small problem she noticed, every tiny task she'd meant to handle—somehow they were already taken care of. Not with any fanfare. Not with recognition sought. Just... fixed.

"It's probably just maintenance being more efficient," she told Sophie over lunch. "They must have hired someone new."

Sophie's raised eyebrow said exactly what she thought of that theory.

It would be easier if he'd made grand gestures. If he'd tried to win her back with obvious displays or public apologies. Those she could dismiss, could guard against.

But this?

This quiet competence, this careful attention to detail, this simple act of making her world run more smoothly without expecting anything in return?

This was dangerous.

Because it meant either James Park had genuinely changed—had learned to care about things beyond image and appearance—or he'd gotten better at pretending.

And Hannah wasn't sure which possibility frightened her more.

She took a sip of the perfectly prepared coffee, trying not to think about James noticing she was tired. Trying not to wonder how many other things he noticed. Trying not to remember how it felt to be seen by him, really seen, in those moments before everything fell apart.

"Stop it," she told herself firmly. But her eyes still caught on the fresh art supplies, the warm radiator, all the small kindnesses that made up a day.

And something in her chest wouldn't stop hoping.

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Hannah heard the soft metallic sounds before she saw him. James was kneeling by the radiator, tools spread around him, his navy sweater pushed up to his elbows. A work light cast shadows across his face as he concentrated.

She should leave. She had display layouts to finish, labels to print. The art show wasn't going to organize itself.

But something made her pause in the doorway.

James muttered something under his breath, then reached for a wrench. The movement pulled his sweater tight across his shoulders, and Hannah found herself remembering how he'd felt when she'd kissed him in the lobby. Before everything fell apart.

"It's late," she said finally.

He startled slightly, then relaxed when he saw her. "The radiator's making that noise again. The one that bothers Mrs. Peterson during bridge club."

Of course he'd noticed that. Of course he was here at eleven at night fixing it.

Hannah moved into the room despite her better judgment. Her stack of art show paperwork felt heavy in her arms.

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