A Shift In The Air
The day began like any other, with a smooth routine and unspoken schedules. Elara moved through the company's glass-paneled corridors with quiet efficiency, her presence commanding respect without effort. She was dressed in a sharp cream blouse tucked into a high-waisted navy skirt, her heels clicking softly against the marble tiles. the subtle nods she exchanged with employees were courteous, not warm.
Killian had arrived earlier than usual, already entrenched in meetings by the time Elara entered the executive wing. Their schedules had diverged since the weekend, decisions reviewed. The morning had been tight, and her appetite was absent, but she brushed it off as stress.
In the late afternoon, as the sun filtered through the tall windows of the conference room, Elara's vision blurred. She blinked, placing a discreet hand against the table for balance. When she stepped out afterward, her legs wobbled beneath her. A quiet wave of nausea swept through her, and she paused, steadying herself against the wall.
"You don't look well." Killian's voice emerged beside her. His tone was neutral, crisp.
"I'm fine,"Elara said quickly, straightening.
"You're not." His gaze didn't soften, but it lingered, assessing. "You'll go home early."
"That's not necessary-"
"I wasn't asking," he said calmly. "The company will not collapse in your absence, Elara. Take the rest of the day."
The firmness in his voice was unmistakable. Not unkind, but commanding. Elara nodded once, not arguing further.
By the time she reached home, her limbs ached and her stomach churned. She brushed past the housemaid's concerned glance and headed straight for the room. The light felt too sharp, the air too thick. When she curled into the couch, sleep claimed her in seconds.
Killian returned home later that evening. The house was unusually quiet. The maid informed him Elara hadn't come down for dinner. Concern flickered in his eyes. He didn't knock immediately but went to his study, finished a few calls, and only then moved toward their shared room.
He found her asleep, curled up and unusually pale.
"Elara," he said, softly.
Her eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, confusion clouded her expression.
Then, she sat up quickly, swaying as she did.
"You're burning up," he noted, touching her forehead.
"It's nothing," she said hoarsely. "Just exhaustion."
"I'll call a doctor."
"That's not necessary-"
"Elara," he cut in, measured but resolute.
"This isn't a debate."
Their eyes met, professional lines momentarily blurred. But neither addressed it.
Minutes later, the family doctor arrived. Killian stepped aside to let her do her examination. Elara answered questions with clarity, but her voice was weak.
When the doctor stepped outside with Killian, she handed him a sealed envelope.
"She needs rest," she said. "And she should be monitored."
Killian nodded. "I'll take care of it."
He returned to the room. Elara was sitting up now, the covers wrapped around her.
"Doctor said you need rest," he informed her evenly.
"Of course," she replied with a tired nod.
There was silence. A charged quiet, too poised to be casual.
"If you need anything, I'll be in the study," he said at last.
She gave a curt nod in return. "Thank you."
He lingered a second longer, then turned and left, leaving Elara in the dim room, her expression unreadable.
Neither said goodnight.