Page 132 of My Only

I turned toward my computer screen, narrowing my eyes at the design, searching for the flaw.

Still couldn’t see it.

The anger built in me like a slow fire.

Harper said there was an issue. She claimed the interior spaces were too enclosed. That the natural light flow was off.

But I was having a hard time believing that.

I had designed this meticulously. Measured every curve, every angle, every single detail.

Something about having to fix this didn’t feel right.

“Hey, Hassani,” Harper’s voice cut in as she pushed open my office door.

I exhaled sharply. Didn’t even bother looking at her.

“What’s up, Harper?” I muttered, my eyes still fixed on the screen.

She strolled in, taking a seat across from my desk.

“You’re such a dedicated man,” she said softly.

I kissed my teeth, finally looking up. “That’s what they pay me for.”

I pulled my sketchbook closer, flipping to the same page I’d been stuck on all damn day.

“Although,” I said low, pencil already moving, “I’ve been struggling to find this flow issue you said was here.”

I glanced up, only briefly, before returning to my sketch.

Harper giggled. Nervous.

“I…umm… I have to be honest about something.”

I barely looked up. “Okay…?”

She exhaled heavily, like a weight had been lifted off her chest.

“There isn’t a flow issue.”

I stopped mid-stroke.

The pencil hovered over the page.

I lifted my head, fully focusing on her now. “What?”

Harper pressed her lips together, then exhaled again. “There’s no real problem with the light flow through the townhouses.”

I jerked my head back, feeling my jaw slack slightly.

She gave a small, hesitant laugh.

“I just…” She leaned in closer, her voice dropping. “I just wanted more time with you.”

A cold wave crashed into me.

Hard.

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