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"I'm fine," she said automatically, then corrected herself with a sigh. "No, that's not true. I'm a mess."

Marcus pulled up the other stool, his lanky frame folding onto it as he studied her face. "What happened, Lila? And don't say 'nothing' because I know you better than that."

The simple kindness in his voice unraveled something in her.

Words tumbled out—the midnight encounter, the kiss, this morning's retreat behind professional lines.

Marcus listened without interruption, his expression cycling between surprise, concern, and occasional flashes of told-you-so that he was kind enough not to voice.

"So that's it," Lila finished, staring into her now-cold tea. "We're going back to being wellness coach and client. Like it never happened."

"Is that what you want?" Marcus asked carefully.

"It doesn't matter what I want. It's what makes sense." She traced the turtles on her mug with one finger. "She's leaving in eleven days. She has a company to run and a life that has nothing to do with island wellness retreats."

"And you're okay with that?"

Lila lifted her eyes to his skeptical face. "Does it matter if I'm okay with it? It's reality. We got caught up in a moment—moonlight, tropical island, proximity. Classic holiday fling fantasy except I actually live here and she's just passing through."

"That's not what I asked." Marcus leaned forward, hands clasped between his knees. "I asked if you're okay."

The distinction caught her off-guard. Was she okay? She'd spent so much energy analyzing the situation, the boundaries, and the practicalities that she hadn't really sat with the simpler question.

"No," she admitted quietly. "I'm not okay. I feel like I got a glimpse of something real with her, and now we're pretending it never happened. It's the right choice, but it still feels wrong."

Marcus nodded slowly. "Look, I'd be failing as your friend if I didn't point out the obvious pattern here. Brilliant, complicated woman with walls a mile high. Professional power imbalance. You giving more than you're getting."

"It's not like that this time," Lila protested, though the parallels with Sophie weren't entirely lost on her.

"Isn't it? You're already making excuses for her avoidance. Already accepting less than you want because it's 'what makes sense.'" He made air quotes with his fingers. "Tell me how that's different from what happened with Sophie."

"Serena isn't Sophie." The defensive words came out sharper than she intended.

"No, she's not," Marcus agreed, surprising her. "She's actually being more honest about her limitations. But that doesn't change the fact that you're falling into the same role: the understanding one, the one who sacrifices, the one who accepts crumbs instead of asking for bread."

The observation stung precisely because it held truth.

Lila stood abruptly, moving to the window where morning light poured across her small herb garden.

"What exactly are you suggesting? That I demand more from a woman who's leaving in less than two weeks?

That I ignore professional ethics and pursue a client?

That I set myself up for more heartbreak when she inevitably leaves? "

Marcus sighed, running a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. "I'm suggesting you protect yourself, Lila. I watched you put yourself back together after Sophie. It took months. Hell, it's why you stayed on this island in the first place."

"I know that," Lila said quietly. "Why do you think I agreed with her this morning? Why do you think I'm not fighting for... whatever this might be?" She turned to face him, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'm not stupid, Marcus. I know the risks."

"Knowing and feeling are different things," he pointed out gently. "And you feel things deeply. It's what makes you great at your job. It's also what makes you vulnerable to exactly this kind of situation."

Lila couldn't argue with that assessment. She'd always led with her heart, always believed in connection and possibility. Even after Sophie, even knowing the risks of caring too much, she couldn't seem to build the protective walls others maintained so effortlessly.

"Look, just promise me you'll be careful," Marcus said, standing to join her by the window. "Professional boundaries exist for a reason; they protect both sides."

"I know." She leaned her head against his shoulder, grateful for the simple comfort of friendship. "We've already agreed to keep things professional from now on. It was a one-time thing. A moment of island madness."

Marcus looked unconvinced but nodded anyway. "Alright. Just remember, she's not the only one who gets to set the terms here. Your needs matter too."

"I'll remember." Lila straightened, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Now go away. I need to shower before my next session."

"Bossy," Marcus complained, though he moved toward the door. He paused with his hand on the knob, turning back with an expression of reluctant support. "For what it's worth, I get it. She's impressive, I'll give her that. Just don't confuse impressive with good for you."

After he left, Lila stood motionless in the center of her cottage, his parting words echoing in the quiet space. Was that what she was doing? Confusing impressiveness with compatibility? Mistaking attraction for something deeper?

She moved to her bathroom on autopilot, turning the shower to its hottest setting.

As steam filled the small space, she caught sight of herself in the mirror—eyes too bright, cheeks flushed, hair escaping its braid in wild tendrils.

She looked like exactly what she was: a woman caught between knowing better and wanting anyway.

"Professional boundaries," she reminded her reflection, the words a mantra rather than a conviction.

She stepped under the hot spray, letting water sluice over her body as if it might wash away the confusion along with the sand. The physical sensations anchored her—water pressure against her skin, heat loosening tight muscles, the clean scent of island-made soap.

Her thoughts refused to settle, circling between Marcus's warnings and memories of Serena in the moonlight, between professional ethics and personal longing.

Their shared intimacy had happened. Pretending otherwise wouldn't erase it from her body's memory or untangle the connection that had been forming since Serena first arrived.

As she dressed for her next session, Lila tried to focus on practicalities.

Eleven days. That's all the time Serena had left on the island.

Less than two weeks to navigate this complicated territory between them and maintain professional distance while her body remembered what it felt like to be pressed against Serena's in the warm pool water.

She could do this. She could respect the boundaries Serena had established—the same boundaries her own professional ethics demanded. She could continue guiding Serena's wellness journey without letting her personal feelings interfere.

It was the right choice. The sensible choice. The ethical choice.

So why did it hurt so much?

The question followed her out the door, riding her shoulders as she headed toward the main resort where Mr. Peterson would be waiting for his morning hike. She forced her thoughts toward the day ahead, toward the responsibilities that had once seemed so fulfilling.

Eleven days. She just needed to maintain professional boundaries for eleven more days.

After that, the choice would be made for her, and she wouldn't have to wonder anymore about roads not taken or possibilities unexplored.

After that, Serena would be gone, and the whole thing would feel like nothing more than a dream, the kind that leaves you reaching for something that was never really there in the first place.

By mid-afternoon, Lila had almost convinced herself that everything was fine.

She'd guided Mr. Peterson through a successful hike up to the island's eastern lookout point, led Mrs. Abelman's meditation session without her thoughts drifting to silver-streaked hair and moonlit pools, and even managed to laugh at Kai's jokes during the staff lunch without feeling the weight of his knowing glances.

Professional. Focused. Present. Everything a wellness coach should be.

If her smile didn't quite reach her eyes, if her laugh sounded slightly hollow even to her own ears, no one seemed to notice. Or at least, they were kind enough not to mention it.

The afternoon meditation room offered blessed solitude after hours of performance.

Lila moved through the space with practiced ease, adjusting cushions and lighting candles for her next session.

The familiar ritual of preparation usually centered her, but today her movements felt mechanical, disconnected from the mindfulness she tried to embody.

Marcus's warnings echoed in her head, mingling with memories of Serena's touch, creating a dissonance that made true presence nearly impossible.

"You're already accepting less than you want because it's 'what makes sense.' Tell me how that's different from what happened with Sophie."

She struck a match with more force than necessary, the small flame dancing wildly before settling. Was he right? Was she falling into old patterns, accepting emotional scraps because she was afraid to demand more?

A soft knock at the door interrupted her spiraling thoughts. She turned, expecting to find her scheduled client arriving early, and instead found herself face to face with Serena.

"I'm sorry to interrupt," Serena said, standing just outside the threshold like a vampire awaiting invitation. "Your colleague mentioned I might find you here."

Lila's heart performed an acrobatic routine in her chest—leaping with surprise, stumbling with confusion, tumbling with a hope she'd spent all day trying to suppress.

"Serena." Her voice was steadier than she felt. "I wasn't expecting you. Do you need something?"