Chapter Four - Just Roommates

Peter

The last time I saw Leah, I had longer hair, just a patch of beard, and wasn’t as built as I am now. Maybe she’d recognize me if she focused on my eyes—but she wasn’t.

Her gaze was elsewhere.

"Oh! Isn't that Leah? We were just about to come down to your floor," Maxwell, the bulky CTO, said.

Leah still hadn’t spoken. She stood frozen, deep in thought, completely unaware of what was happening around her.

"This is Peter O’Brien, the CEO of Cybernetics," Maxwell continued, attempting introductions.

"He’ll be in charge of investigating and resolving the cyberattack."

If she was listening, she didn’t show it. Her expression remained distant.

She had completely spaced out.

Maxwell sighed before stepping beside her and giving her a light tap on the shoulder.

"Earth to Leah!" he said, shaking his head.

She jolted slightly. "Oh! Sorry, I zoned out," she admitted. Then, realizing she should introduce herself, she turned to me.

"Hi! I'm Leah Henderson f-from the third floor."

I noticed the way she stammered slightly—her voice breathless, like she was trying too hard to seem composed. She extended her right hand, emphasizing her introduction.

I shook it firmly. "Nice to meet you, Leah."

She seemed relieved.

"Let’s get through these introductions and get to work," I announced, already bored. I didn’t come here to socialize. I came here to drown myself in work—to have space.

Inside the elevator, I was fully aware of Leah stealing glances at me. The reflective golden-tinted walls made it obvious.

She was subtle about it, lowering her head every time I looked forward—like she was calculating when I’d look away.

I let it slide at first. But then, just as she lifted her head again, I didn’t look away.

Our eyes met.

She froze.

A deer caught in headlights.

I smirked.

Her cheeks turned a deep shade of crimson, and she immediately dropped her gaze, flustered. This time, she didn’t look up again. Instead, she turned slightly to the side, probably trying to check her reflection—realizing just how red her face had gotten.

I found it amusing.

The ride to the third floor lasted less than a minute. But to Leah? I bet it felt much longer.

-------------

(Twelve Years Ago)

Author’s Perspective

The steady beeping of vital monitors filled the hospital room. The sharp scent of antiseptic hung in the air.

A frail man lay on the bed, his body weakened by illness. Surrounding him were four people—two on each side.

"Peter," the man rasped.

Beside him stood fifteen-year-old Peter O’Brien, tears streaking his cheeks. His mother, Jane O’Brien, placed a comforting hand on the small of his back, though she, too, was crying.

Peter’s father, Henry O’Brien, lifted a trembling hand and gently wiped his son’s tears. Peter grasped his father’s hand, holding onto it like a lifeline.

"Can you—" Henry’s words were cut off by a violent coughing fit.

Peter held his breath, dreading what was coming next.

"Can you make me a promise?" Henry finally managed.

"No! No!" Peter shook his head in denial. He didn’t want to make a promise—because promises meant goodbyes.

Jane’s voice wavered. "But we can keep fighting."

"Yes!" May Jackson, Henry’s sister, agreed desperately. She clutched her husband Damian’s hand, her eyes red from crying. Damian, usually the quiet one, gave a solemn nod.

"But I can’t," Henry admitted. His weak voice carried a finality that made the air feel heavier. "I can’t fight it anymore."

Peter clenched his jaw, refusing to accept it.

Henry turned his weary eyes to his son. "Can you promise me something?"

Peter hesitated.

Seconds stretched painfully before he whispered, "Yes… I'll try."

"Take care of your mother."

Peter nodded, his tears falling harder. "I will."

"And look out for each other," Henry said, glancing at everyone in the room.

A chorus of ‘yes’ followed, but their voices trembled.

Then, Peter broke.

He lunged forward, wrapping his arms tightly around his father.

Tears poured freely as his mother and aunt joined in the embrace, mourning before the inevitable even happened.

Then—

The steady beeping of the heart monitor turned into a single, flat tone.

A long, deafening silence followed.

Then, grief exploded into the room.

Sobs. Cries. Pain in its rawest form.

That day, Peter O’Brien lost not just a father—but his hero.

---

Henry O’Brien’s death changed everything.

It taught Peter one harsh truth—you don’t truly realize the value of something until it’s gone.

Losing Henry drew Peter and his mother closer. Peter had always been closer to his father, but Henry’s final wish gave him a new purpose—to protect his mom.

Their family was small. Henry and May were from an immigrant family, having moved when Henry was three years old and May was just five months old.

Peter’s mother, Jane, was orphaned at five after her parents died in an accident. She had no extended family.

And now, Henry was gone.

The loss was too much.

Jane locked her emotions away, withdrawing into herself. At times, Peter feared she would break completely.

But through it all, he stayed by her side. Through grief, pain, and emptiness—they held each other up.

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(Two Years Later)

Peter walked through the front door, dropping his backpack beside the couch.

"Peter," his mother called softly from the living room.

"Yeah, Mom?"

She sat on a recliner, gesturing for him to join her. He did, curious about the serious tone in her voice.

"I have something important to tell you," she said.

Peter sat up straighter. "Okay…?"

She took a deep breath, bracing herself. "I'm seeing someone."

Peter blinked. "Oh… wow!" His surprise quickly morphed into a smile. "Really? That’s cool! I mean—that’s great!"

Jane had expected hesitation, resistance—maybe even anger. Instead, her son was… happy for her.

Her throat tightened with emotion. She stood up, arms open for a hug.

"Thank you," she whispered as he hugged her back.

---

After that, they talked about it in detail.

Jane met Carl Johnson at work. He was the Editor-in-Chief of the magazine and newspaper publishing company where she worked as an assistant.

What started as a strictly professional relationship gradually grew into something more.

Eventually, Peter met Carl’s family.

That was the day he met his new stepsister, Mary Anna Johnson—and her best friend-turned-adopted sister, Leah Henderson.

Mary Anna was the complete opposite of Leah—extroverted, outgoing, social.

Leah? A shy introvert.

And Peter? Somewhere in between.

Sixty percent introvert. Forty percent extrovert. An ambivert.

From the start, Leah had been reserved around him. Always quiet, always keeping her distance.

Now, as she stood in front of him in that elevator, flustered and caught off guard, Peter smirked to himself.

Guess some things never change.