Cracks in the Armor

It was supposed to be a routine meeting.

Third week in, and they had fallen into a rhythm — cold, efficient, relentless. Their shared Google doc was a battlefield of comments, tracked changes, and passive-aggressive highlights.

Aiden showed up to the café ten minutes early, ordered black coffee, and claimed the table by the window. Rain traced lines down the glass. He watched students dash between buildings with umbrellas and half-zipped jackets.

At 4:00 on the dot, Eliza appeared.

No coat this time — just a navy sweater and jeans, her braid undone, damp from the rain. She looked... human. Less curated. Aiden blinked.

“Rough day?” he asked as she sat down.

Eliza didn’t answer immediately. She set down her bag, pulled out her laptop, and opened it with a sharp click.

“No more than usual,” she said, eyes fixed on the screen.

They worked in silence for a while. The sound of typing and clinking cups filled the air. Aiden read over her new section — it was flawless. Of course it was. But there was something off in her posture. Her shoulders were tight, jaw clenched..

He leaned back. “You’re angry.”

“Don’t start,” she said, not looking up.

“I haven’t said anything—”

“You’re doing that thing.”

“What thing?”

“That smirky, smug thing like you’re just waiting for me to snap.”

Aiden held up his hands. “Alright. No smirking. Just wondering if you’re okay.”

She exhaled sharply, and for once, she didn’t dodge the question.

“My professor tore apart my internship proposal in front of the entire class,” she said. “Said it was ‘overachieving for the sake of ego.’”

Aiden blinked. “Ouch.”

“Yeah.”

She closed her laptop and stared out the window.

For a long beat, neither of them said anything.

Then Aiden said, “Well... he’s not wrong.”

Eliza turned sharply.

“But so what?” he continued. “You do overachieve. You’re brutal. Precise. Always five steps ahead. That’s not ego — that’s drive. Anyone intimidated by that should get out of the way.”

She stared at him, caught somewhere between disbelief and something softer. “That might be the first almost-nice thing you’ve ever said to me.”Don’t get used to it,” Aiden said. “I still plan to beat you.”

A smile ghosted across her lips. “Right. After I carry you through this project.”

“You wish.”

The moment stretched. Not warm, exactly — but different. Charged.

Eliza looked down at her notebook. “Anyway. Tomorrow, we should outline the presentation flow.”

“Fine. But we’re not using your color-coded charts again. They gave me a headache.”

“They’re efficient.”

“They’re terrifying.”

She laughed — a short, surprised sound that caught them both off guard.

And in that tiny slip, Aiden saw something behind the walls — not weakness, but realness. Someone who cared too much, worked too hard, and wore perfection like armor.

For the first time, he didn’t want to win despite her.

He wanted to win with her.

And that scared him more than he cared to admit.

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