Page 91 of True Colors

“The model is exceptional,” I continue. “Your assumptions are solid. The sensitivity analysis—especially around supplier volatility—was frankly ahead of schedule.”

She nods, eyes bright. “Thank you.”

“And tomorrow,” I say, steadying my voice, “the board is going to be very focused on outcomes. On clarity.”

Her smile falters. Just a touch. She suspects.

I barrel on.

“So, I’ve decided that Erin will present the model and the data.”

My decision hangs between us. Stark and irreversible.

For a moment, she doesn’t react at all. Then her face changes. No tears. No anger.

Just…collapse.

The light in her eyes dims, like a light switched off in a room.

“Oh,” she says softly.

“You’ll still be there,” I add quickly. “For questions. For technical follow-ups. This isn’t about your capability, Anouk. It’s about⁠—”

“Optics?” she cuts me off.

I swallow. I can’t lie to her. To the rest of the world, yes. To myself, yes. Not Anouk.

“Anouk, the board is…old school. I don’t want them distracted.”

Her fingers curl into the fabric of her dress.

“Please tell me you understand?”

Tell me nothing will change between us. Tell me you’ll still love me and let me love you.

“I un-understand.”

The stutter kills me.

“This doesn’t diminish your role,” I try to patch a gushing wound with words. “It’s just about making sure the message lands cleanly.”

She looks so lost. Her green eyes are deep pools of anguish and confusion.

God, what am I doing to her!

“I p-prepared. A lot.”

“I know,” I reply, reaching across the desk, taking her hand in mine. “And that matters. This doesn’t change how I see you.”

She looks at our hands and slides her hand away from mine. The confusion I saw before melts away, and so does the anguish.

“Is th-that all?” She even manages a small smile. A pathetic one that doesn’t reach her beautiful eyes.

There’s no accusation in her voice.

No anger.

Just distance.