Chapter 7: The Door He Came Back To
Grace’s new apartment had no driveway, no garden, and no space for Daniel’s pride.
That was why he hated standing outside it.
The building was clean and quiet.
A row of small balconies faced the street.
On one of them, a basil plant caught the afternoon sun.
Daniel wondered if it was hers.
He had brought flowers.
Not roses.
Roses felt too guilty.
He chose lilies because a florist said they looked sincere.
Now they looked ridiculous in his hand.
He pressed the buzzer.
For a while, nothing happened.
Then Grace’s voice came through.
“Yes?”
Daniel closed his eyes.
Just hearing her made the last week collapse inside him.
“It is me.”
“I know.”
“I need to talk.”
Silence.
Then the door clicked open.
Grace did not invite him upstairs.
She met him in the lobby wearing jeans, a white shirt, and no trace of waiting.
Her hair was tied back.
Her face was calm.
That calm frightened him more than anger would have.
Daniel held out the flowers.
“I wanted to apologise.”
Grace looked at them.
“You wanted to start with something cheaper than honesty.”
His hand lowered.
“I deserve that.”
“You deserve more than that.”
He swallowed.
“Evelyn is going to terminate if you do not help.”
Grace said nothing.
Daniel rushed on.
“The team is struggling with the old framework.”
“Our renewal depends on someone who understands the account.”
She looked at him steadily.
“You mean me.”
“Yes.”
The word cost him.
Not enough.
Grace folded her arms.
“When you wanted a divorce, I was outdated.”
Daniel flinched.
“When Vanessa stood beside you, I was behind the scenes.”
He looked at the floor.
“When your client asked one question you could not answer, I became necessary.”
“Grace, please.”
She shook her head.
“Do not use my name like a password.”
The lobby door opened behind them.
A neighbour entered, smiled politely, and passed.
Daniel lowered his voice.
“Ten years should mean something.”
Grace’s eyes changed then.
Not softer.
Sharper.
“Yes.”
“They should.”
“I gave you ten years.”
“I gave you rent when you had none.”
“I gave you drafts you signed.”
“I gave you clients you impressed.”
“I gave you sleep while I built what you sold.”
Daniel whispered, “I know that now.”
“No,” she said.
“You know you need it now.”
He had no answer.
Grace stepped back toward the stairs.
“If you want professional assistance, contact Maya.”
He stared at her.
“You would charge me?”
Grace almost smiled.
“You charged me a decade.”
Daniel’s face twisted.
“I gave you ten years too.”
“No,” Grace said.
“You spent mine.”
Then she turned and walked upstairs.
Daniel stood in the lobby holding flowers no one wanted.
By the time he reached his car, Maya Singh had already sent him a message.
All future business requests must be submitted in writing.
Grace had not slammed a door.
She had become one.