Page 74 of Sexting His Assistant

Then I watch the dog again.

The second TikTok is a woman dramatically ranking “men who said something stupid and thought they were wise”, and it’s some kind of reactive clips to a bunch of stuff happening.

The third is a recipe for cherry jam pastries with the caption: since someone has no self-awareness about liking cherry jam

The fourth is a man opening a drawer and finding a raccoon inside, screaming, then calmly closing the drawer.

I don’t ask what this one means.

I watch all of them.

Every single one.

Sometimes more than once.

Not because they are interesting.

Because they are from her.

Each time, I wait for the next message to be something else. Something direct. Something careless enough to reveal what she is thinking when she is alone, away from Misha’s worry and my mother’s warmth and the estate full of men who saw too much that night.

I wait for her to mention the bedroom.

The soup. Her hand on my chest. The almost-kiss.

The boardroom. She doesn’t.

She sends a TikTok of a cat pushing a glass off a table with the caption: me with your schedule if you don’t stop adding calls after 8 pm

I reply: You are not funny.

She replies: you watched it tho

I don’t answer.

Because she’s right.

And because if I answer too quickly, it’ll show.

I let the phone sit face down on the table for almost a full minute.

It vibrates again.

Nina: You’re ignoring me because I’m right.

I look at the message and lean back against the couch.

She is right.

That is the problem.

Luka: I am ignoring you because I am working.

Nina: You’re at home.

Luka: I can work at home.

Nina: You can also stop adding calls after 8 pm at home.