Beatrice sat at the long conference table, fingers tracing the rim of her coffee cup, the taste of Emily's recipe still lingering in the back of her mind. The soft, clinking noise of Sheila flipping through a stack of reports filled the room, but it felt distant to her, like a muted background to her own thoughts. Last night with River kept replaying in her head, not just the dinner, but the vulnerability they had shared, the rawness of his past that he had finally let her in on.

Sheila sat across from her, sharp eyes that missed nothing as usual, though today they seemed to linger on Beatrice a little too long. Beatrice had always admired Sheila's ability to be two steps ahead in any conversation, but right now, that perceptiveness felt like a spotlight. The silence between them stretched out, and it hit Beatrice that she hadn't heard a word Sheila had just said.

"Beatrice?" Sheila's voice was smooth but carried a knowing tone.

"Sorry, what?" Beatrice straightened in her seat, trying to push thoughts of River aside and focus on the work at hand. She took a quick sip of her coffee, the warmth doing little to steady her thoughts.

Sheila's lips curved into a small smile, not unkind, but there was a glint of amusement in her eyes. "You seem a bit distracted today. Rough night?"

Beatrice's stomach twisted. The way Sheila was looking at her, like she already knew what had happened, made Beatrice's pulse spike. She wasn't sure how much of her personal life had bled into the professional, but she had a feeling Sheila had picked up on more than she let on.

"Not really. Just a lot on my mind." Beatrice tried to sound casual, but even to her own ears, her voice was a little too stiff. She busied herself by taking another sip of coffee, praying it would cool her nerves.

"Mm-hmm," Sheila hummed knowingly, setting the reports down and leaning back in her chair, eyes never leaving Beatrice. "I saw you and River the other night."

Beatrice froze, her grip on the coffee cup tightening until her knuckles turned white. Sheila's words felt like a bucket of cold water. She blinked quickly, trying to keep her expression neutral, though panic was buzzing just beneath her skin. Had she and River been that obvious? How much had Sheila seen?

"Oh," Beatrice managed, her voice sounding far too strained for the casual air she was attempting. "We were just grabbing tea... as coworkers."

Sheila raised an eyebrow, her smile deepening but not unkind. "Just coworkers?"

There was something in the way she said it, a light teasing that put Beatrice on edge. The truth of last night was still too raw, too intimate to be dragged into the fluorescent lighting of the office. Sheila's knowing look only made it worse, making Beatrice feel exposed, like her inner world was on display for everyone to see.

"We are." Beatrice fumbled, her heart racing. But even as the words left her mouth, she knew how hollow they sounded. Nothing about her connection with River felt like it could fit into the neat box of "coworkers" anymore.

Sheila leaned forward slightly, her elbows resting on the table, her expression softening. "Look, Beatrice, I've been around long enough to recognize when two people are... more than just colleagues." Her tone was kind but matter-of-fact. "I'm not here to tell you how to live your life, but if you're concerned about how it might affect things here at the office, you don't need to be."

Beatrice blinked, caught off guard. "Wait, what?"

Sheila's smile became a bit warmer, her sharp edges softening. "River's a good guy. I've known him for a while now, and I've seen how he is around you when he comes to visit your desk. If you're worried, you don't have to be. It's not against company policy to care about someone."

Beatrice felt like she had been hit by a wave. Of all the possible outcomes she had envisioned for this conversation, this hadn't been one of them. She had braced herself for a reprimand or at least a stern warning about keeping her personal life separate from her work. Instead, Sheila's words felt like an unexpected form of permission.

"It's... complicated," Beatrice said, her voice quiet as she wrestled with how much to reveal. Her mind flashed back to last night, to the way River had opened up to her in ways she never expected. It wasn't just complicated—it was terrifying.

Sheila gave a small, understanding nod. "Most things are. But that doesn't mean it's not worth figuring out." Her eyes held Beatrice's, her voice gentle but firm. "You like him, don't you?"

The directness of the question made Beatrice's heart lurch. She wanted to deny it, to brush it off and return to the safety of their professional conversation. But the truth was lodged in her throat, too big to swallow down. She did like River. More than she had liked anyone in a long time.

Sheila didn't push for an answer. She simply sat back, giving Beatrice space. "I just wanted you to know that whatever's going on, as long as it doesn't affect your work, I don't see any issue. I trust you."

Beatrice's heart swelled with a mix of gratitude and confusion. "Thanks," she whispered. She was relieved.

Sensing the need to shift back to safer ground, Sheila cleared her throat and picked up the reports again. "Anyway, let's talk about the campaign."

The conversation slipped back into work talk, but Beatrice's mind was elsewhere. Even as she nodded and made notes, her thoughts were still on River.

After the meeting, Beatrice made her way back to her desk, still feeling off-kilter. She set the reports down and sank into her chair, determined to focus. She shuffled through some papers, trying to lose herself in the tasks at hand. But as she reached for another stack, something slipped off the desk and fluttered to the floor.

Beatrice leaned down to grab it but paused when she saw a pair of shoes step into view. A hand reached down and plucked the playing card from the ground before she could. She straightened, surprised to see Rowan standing there, holding the card out to her. His expression was neutral, but his eyes, cold and sharp, seemed to be searching her face for something.

"Dropped this," he said, his voice flat, handing her the card.

Beatrice blinked, taking it from him. "Uh, thanks."

Rowan lingered for a second longer than necessary, his gaze still fixed on her. There was something unsettling in the way he stood there, too stiff, too quiet. It made Beatrice's skin prickle with unease.

"Does this belong to you?" Beatrice asked, trying to break the silence, her voice light but cautious.

Rowan's eyes flicked to the card briefly before meeting hers again. "No. It's not mine." His voice was clipped, his posture rigid. He glanced over his shoulder, as if checking to see if anyone was watching, then looked back at her. He hesitated for a moment, as though he wanted to say something more, but instead, he gave a curt nod and walked away, leaving her with an odd sense of disquiet.

Beatrice stared after him, the weight of the playing card feeling heavier in her hand than it should. Something about the brief interaction with Rowan felt off, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it.

Sighing, she slumped back into her chair, holding the card between her fingers, its edges soft and worn. She was trying to focus on the papers in front of her, but her thoughts were miles away. Why was Rowan acting so strange? And why had this card, of all things, suddenly appeared out of nowhere?

Her concentration was broken when she heard a familiar voice, warm and tinged with concern. "You okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Beatrice snapped her head up, and there was River, standing in front of her desk with his usual easy posture, but his sharp eyes were filled with something more serious. He looked at her like he could see right through her, his gaze lingering on her pale expression.

Beatrice forced a small smile, trying to push the tension away. "I'm fine. Just... a weird moment with Rowan. He picked this up for me." She held up the playing card, and River's eyes flicked to it with immediate recognition, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips.

He didn't ask about Rowan. Instead, he reached for the small yellow Volkswagen van sitting on the corner of her desk, his fingers running over its smooth, bright surface. "What's this?" he asked, raising an eyebrow, as if it had been placed there as some kind of secret relic.

Beatrice reached out instinctively. "Don't trouble that. It's given me good luck so far."

River's smile deepened, and he chuckled softly, holding the toy van in his hands, turning it over, his touch careful but curious. "Good luck, huh? You don't strike me as someone who relies on luck."

"Well, you know, sometimes it doesn't hurt," she said, leaning back in her chair, watching him. "Especially in this line of work. That van's been with me since I got the job."

River glanced at her, his thumb still absently tracing the outline of the van. "Interesting. I never pegged you as superstitious. But I guess everyone has their quirks." His tone was teasing, but his eyes were focused, as if he was thinking about something else entirely.

Beatrice shrugged. "Maybe. But it's worked so far."

River set the van back down, his fingers now lightly drumming on the desk. "Well, speaking of good luck..." He looked back at her. "That card you're holding? It's mine."

Beatrice blinked. "What?"

River nodded, leaning on the edge of her desk, his arms crossed casually over his chest. "Yeah, I left it here for you. That's the card that used to win me all my games. It's my lucky card. Thought you could use it."

Beatrice's mind reeled as the pieces clicked together. The card that had mysteriously fallen from her stack of papers, Rowan's strange encounter—it was all because of River. "Wait, you left this on my desk? Why didn't you say anything?"

He shrugged. "I figured you'd find it sooner or later. Besides, thought it might give you some extra luck today. And judging by how pale you looked when I walked up, I think you might need it."

She couldn't help but laugh, shaking her head. "River, you're unbelievable. I've been trying to figure out where this came from all day, and it was you?"

"Surprise," he said, his voice low and amused. He looked down at the card again, and his smile softened, becoming a little more serious. "That card's been with me through a lot. I used to keep it in my wallet. Always made sure I had it for games, for work stuff, for... you know, life."

Beatrice held the card a little tighter, feeling the weight of what he'd just said. It wasn't just some random thing he'd tossed her way- it meant something to him. "You're really giving it to me?"

River's eyes softened as he nodded. "You've been on my mind lately. Thought maybe it could help you the way it helped me."

Beatrice's breath caught for a moment. It wasn't just the card. It was the way he was looking at her, the quiet intensity in his eyes. She thought about the dinner they had shared, the stories he had told her about his family, the vulnerability he had let her see. And now this- this little gesture, so small yet somehow filled with meaning.

She smiled. "Thanks, River," she said softly. "I'll take care of it."

River nodded, a rare softness in his eyes as he pushed himself off the desk. "Good."

As he walked away, Beatrice stared down at the card. The day had shifted, taking on a new kind of clarity. But she knew for certain that she had already felt lucky from the moment she first looked into his eyes. She thought about how she didn't need a card to reassure her of that.