No

Wednesday came soft.

Chloe had slept longer than usual. The coffee actually tasted like coffee. And Jason, true to recent form, was already gone by the time Emily walked into the kitchen—just an empty mug in the sink and the faint smell of his cologne clinging to the hallway.

She didn’t think much of it. Just moved through her routine like muscle memory.

Toast. Fruit. Chloe’s tiny socks matched for once. Everything smooth.

It wasn’t until she was zipping her work bag that Tasha looked up from the table and said it.

“You look really nice today, Em.”

Emily blinked.

Tasha wasn’t teasing. She wasn’t being fake. Just watching her, a little too openly, like she hadn’t meant to say it out loud until it was already in the air.

Emily looked down.

She’d pulled on a deep plum wrap blouse that morning—thin, silky, breathable. A little clingier than her usual picks. And in the right light, it was clear the fabric wasn’t just soft. It was sheer enough that the outline of her bra underneath—lace, darker plum with a scalloped edge—wasn’t exactly hidden.

And her skirt?

A smooth black stretch fabric, high-waisted, the hem hovering just above mid-thigh. Maybe only a quarter-inch too short. Not enough to be scandalous. But enough to make anyone who looked twice wonder if she'd measured it in the mirror that morning—and kept it on anyway.

She hadn’t consciously picked it for that.

Or at least, that’s what she told herself.

It wasn’t lingerie. It wasn’t bold.

But it was intentional.

Or… was it?

She couldn’t remember choosing it with anything specific in mind. But now, standing there with her keys in hand and Tasha giving her that look, the realization clicked into place.

This outfit?

It wasn’t for Jason.

It wasn’t even really for work.

It was for the way she’d felt yesterday.

The way she’d made a man shake just by standing still in a frame.

Tasha’s gaze lingered for just a breath too long before she smiled and turned her attention back to Chloe.

Emily’s cheeks flushed—not from embarrassment, but awareness.

Jason was gone. Chloe was cooing in her little floor gym. Tasha was watching with a smile.

And Emily?

Emily smoothed the hem of her skirt and adjusted the wrap of her blouse like none of it had been deliberate at all.

“Thanks, Tash,” she said casually. “Felt like switching it up today.”