Vanessa smiled. Darius looked toward the room. “Most days, I’m okay because I have to be.”
He leaned against the doorframe. “Breakfast happens whether I’m grieving or not.” Vanessa’s eyes filled.
“School starts at the same time.” Darius continued. “Bills keep arriving.”
“Nia keeps growing.” He exhaled. “So I move.”
Vanessa looked around Adrian’s room. “I stopped.” Darius said nothing.
“I kept working.” She corrected herself. “I built more things.”
“Bought more companies.” Another small breath. “But personally, I stopped.”
Darius understood. There was surviving because a child needed you, and there was surviving because work refused to permit collapse. Both could look impressive from outside. Neither necessarily meant a person was living.
“What made you bring me here?” he asked. Vanessa looked toward him. “You asked if I had a bad day.”
Darius waited. Vanessa’s voice became quieter. “Nobody asks me that.”
“They ask whether projections are recoverable.” She laughed without humor. “They ask what the board said.”
“They ask what I want done.” Vanessa looked down. “You asked whether I was okay.”
Darius stepped slightly closer but kept space between them. “Are you?” Vanessa shook her head.
“No.” The answer came without performance. “Not tonight.”
Darius nodded. “Me neither, sometimes.” Vanessa looked up.
For several moments, neither needed to explain. Grief had introduced them more efficiently than corporate hierarchy ever could. Each recognized the particular exhaustion carried by people who became strong because nobody gave them another practical choice.
Adrian’s photograph seemed to watch them. Vanessa looked toward it. “He would have liked you.”
“You cannot know that.” Darius smiled slightly. Vanessa almost laughed.
“He had no patience for people who were afraid of titles.” She looked toward him. “You would have annoyed each other immediately.”
“Then become friends.” Darius nodded. “Sounds reasonable.”
Vanessa finally crossed farther into the room. She touched the back of the reading chair. “He took my last name.”
Darius smiled. “Smart man.” Vanessa gave him a look. “He said Hartwell sounded better.”
“He was correct.” Another laugh escaped her.
It was the third one that night. Darius silently noticed. Vanessa looked at him.
“You have somewhere to be.” Darius checked the time. “A very patient seventy-two-year-old woman has my daughter.”
“Go.” Vanessa looked almost disappointed after saying it. Darius noticed that too.
Before he left, she asked, “Tell me one thing about Nia.” Darius smiled instantly. “Last week she got a perfect score on a math test.”
Vanessa waited. “Her exact words were, ‘Daddy, I’m the smartest person in class, but I’m also handling it very humbly.’” Vanessa laughed.