Chapter Text

Galinda Upland, age 31, was the epitome of a self-made CEO—beautiful, intelligent, and undeniably commanding. She had earned the role of CEO of the Upper Uplands at a young age, a successful subsidiary of the larger Upland Enterprises, one of the most prestigious and well-known conglomerates in the region of Gillikin, in the country of Oz. The eldest daughter of Upland Enterprises’ Chairman, she was the designated heiress to the company’s vast empire. Though Upland Enterprises had been around for generations under her family’s stewardship, it was Galinda’s vision and leadership that had turned Upper Uplands into a dominant player in its sector.

Galinda wasn’t just respected in the corporate world—she was popular. Known for her magnetic charm and impeccable social grace, she was equally at ease mingling with high-profile executives at a gala as she was addressing a packed auditorium of investors. Her sharp brown eyes were always calculating, focused on the next opportunity or challenge, while her effortlessly glamorous appearance made her a fixture in both the boardroom and society pages. Galinda’s golden hair was never out of place, often styled to perfection, giving her a look of impeccable polish that matched her reputation. She was a master of multitasking—able to negotiate multi-million-dollar deals one minute and manage a PR crisis the next, all while maintaining an air of elegance that no one could ever question.

Her position as CEO kept her relentlessly busy. She had little time for anything outside the company, especially not relationships. Galinda was uninterested in romantic entanglements; everything was about the business. To her, being the face of Upper Uplands was more than enough. She had inherited her family’s legacy, and now it was her job to expand it, taking the company to new heights with every move she made.

To ensure that her world ran smoothly, Galinda had one person she could always rely on—her secretary, Elphaba Thropp.

Elphaba Thropp was the silent force behind Galinda Upland’s success at Upper Uplands. At 29, she had been Galinda’s secretary for seven years, and over time, she had grown into the perfect support for the CEO’s demanding lifestyle. Elphaba was known for her incredible attention to detail, her impeccable organizational skills, and her ability to remain calm under pressure. Her deep green eyes—far from the usual green, but rich and vivid like polished emerald—missed nothing. That sharp, penetrating gaze, paired with her uncanny ability to anticipate her boss’s needs before they were even voiced, had made her indispensable.

Her dark hair, always kept in neat braids, was as much a trademark as her efficiency. Where Galinda dazzled with her bold, sometimes unpredictable decisions, Elphaba was the one who kept the engine of Upper Uplands running without fail. From managing Galinda’s packed schedule to ensuring every document was signed, Elphaba’s role was to make sure that the day-to-day operations were flawless, allowing Galinda to focus on her higher-level responsibilities.

Though Elphaba was undeniably skilled in her role, she was content to remain in the background, working tirelessly and quietly. She had no desire to take center stage or seek recognition; she was simply satisfied with the knowledge that she was the one making Galinda’s busy life a little easier. Their relationship had always been professional, with no room for personal attachments. Elphaba’s job was to serve, and she did it with unparalleled dedication.

For seven years, Galinda and Elphaba had built a solid, professional partnership. As the CEO of Upper Uplands, based in the prosperous region of Gillikin in Oz, Galinda was constantly on the move, juggling a myriad of responsibilities from corporate expansions to high-stakes negotiations. Elphaba, ever the reliable secretary, was the one who kept everything organized and efficient behind the scenes.

Galinda trusted Elphaba implicitly—she never had to worry about the details, because she knew Elphaba had them covered. If there was a last-minute change in her itinerary, Elphaba was always on it. If a crucial document needed to be signed in a hurry, Elphaba had already prepared it ahead of time. In many ways, Elphaba was the reason Upper Uplands was able to function so seamlessly, and Galinda never took that for granted.

Elphaba, in turn, respected Galinda’s leadership and her unyielding focus on growing the company. Despite the occasional frustrations of dealing with Galinda’s demanding nature, Elphaba never wavered in her commitment. She didn’t need the recognition; her satisfaction came from the work itself, the satisfaction of a job well done.

Their professional relationship was built on mutual respect and understanding: Galinda needed Elphaba’s skill and reliability, and Elphaba needed Galinda’s ambition and drive to keep pushing forward. Neither of them had room for anything personal in the relationship—everything was about the business.

And, as it had been for years, that was enough.

Chapter Text

The evening sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the city’s towering skyline. The final meeting of the day came to a close, at the head of the conference table, Galinda Upland exuded her usual air of unshakable authority. Her golden hair shimmered in the fading light, a halo of brilliance framing her sharp, flawless features.

She leaned back in her chair, a satisfied smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “All right, team, I expect nothing less than perfection for the next quarter. No excuses, especially from marketing.” Her voice cut through the air—crisp, precise, the kind of authority that made everyone sit up straighter. “Get it together. Make me proud.”

A brief silence lingered before movement returned to the room. Chairs slid back and folders were tucked under arms as her team rose. One by one, they offered her polite farewells—“Goodnight, Ms. Upland,” “We’ll deliver, ma’am,” “Thank you for your time”—each voice carrying a mix of respect and deference. Galinda inclined her head slightly in acknowledgment, her smile never wavering.

As the room cleared, Galinda lingered a moment longer, her fingers tapping lightly on the table as she reviewed the stack of paperwork in front of her. Elphaba Thropp, ever the dedicated secretary, stood by the door, her eyes sharp as she silently waited for the next instruction. Her green eyes scanned the room with a quiet, professional detachment. Her neat braid and muted attire were a study in composure, as always.

Galinda glanced up, breaking the silence with her usual flourish. “Elphaba,” she said while tossing her hair, her voice light with a touch of amusement, “I’ve been thinking. I don’t know how people manage without me. I practically do everything around here, and I’m just so good at it.”

Elphaba gave a slight nod, her smile polite but carefully measured. “No one does it like you, Ms. Upland. You’re unparalleled.”

Galinda’s lips curved into a satisfied grin. “Exactly. Who else could turn Upper Uplands into a global powerhouse like I have? I’m practically a genius. Maybe the world should be paying me more attention. Honestly, I could run this company with one hand tied behind my back.”

Elphaba had long since grown used to Galinda’s narcissistic side, and, in many ways, she didn’t mind it. It wasn’t that she didn’t recognize the flaws in her boss’s constant need for admiration—she did. But over the years, she had come to see it as part of Galinda’s charm. There was something oddly endearing about the way Galinda would speak of her own brilliance as if the world were still catching up to her genius. Sometimes, in quiet moments, Elphaba even found herself amused by it—her boss’s unapologetic self-absorption was almost like a performance, one that was as polished as her golden hair. Elphaba knew it wasn’t personal; Galinda was simply that consumed by her own ambition and beauty. It was part of the package, and, for all the times it could be exhausting, there were moments when Elphaba found it adorable in its own way—an absurd little quirk that made Galinda who she was.

Elphaba continued organizing the materials from the meeting, offering only the briefest of acknowledgments. “You’ve built something remarkable here, Ms. Upland.”

Galinda stretched in her chair, glancing over at Elphaba. “And, of course, there’s you, Elphaba. You’ve been with me through all of it. I have to admit, I’m lucky to have someone as capable as you managing everything behind the scenes. I could do it all myself, of course, but you make things... run smoothly.” She let out a little laugh. “I suppose I’ll never stop being amazed by how I manage to be so good at everything.”

“You’re exceptional,” Elphaba agreed, a quiet smile curving her lips.

The evening gala was fast approaching, a high-profile event full of influential people. Galinda was already excited about the spotlight she’d command, and Elphaba, as usual, would be the one ensuring everything went without a hitch.

Later, as the car rolled through the illuminated streets of the city, the evening’s glamour buzzed just beyond Galinda’s focused gaze. She sat in the back seat, flawless in her gown, while Elphaba sat quietly beside her. The soft hum of the engine seemed to amplify the quiet tension between them, like an unspoken question hanging in the air.

“Elphaba,” Galinda began, breaking the silence, “I think people just don’t appreciate me enough. But what can I do? It’s not like I can shrink myself to fit into their tiny little worlds.” Her smile turned playful, almost mischievous. “Sometimes, I feel like I should run for president or something. Can you imagine how perfect I’d be at it?”

Elphaba offered a brief smile, her voice soft as she replied, “I’m sure you’d be more than capable of anything you set your mind to.”

Galinda sighed dramatically. “It’s exhausting being this perfect all the time. I don’t know how I do it.” She leaned back against the plush seat, her eyes sparkling with self-assurance. “But, really, who could blame me? I mean, look at me. Look at what I’ve built. It’s honestly a bit miraculous, don’t you think?”

The conversation seemed to flow effortlessly for a while longer until the car arrived at the gala.

At the entrance, the master of ceremonies lifted his voice, rich and resonant, carrying across the glittering hall:

“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome—Galinda Upland, of the Upper Uplands!”

Galinda stepped forward with a dramatic flair, her blonde curls bouncing as she turned to face the crowd with a graceful toss of her hair. “It’s good to see me, isn’t it?” she asked, her voice laced with playful confidence. Behind her, Elphaba lingered in the doorway, a small smile tugging at her lips, as if she couldn’t quite resist Galinda’s infectious energy.

As expected, Galinda immediately stole the attention the moment she entered, her presence lighting up the room. Elphaba, as usual, quietly making sure everything went smoothly as Galinda reveled in the praise of her peers.

After the event, they found themselves alone once again in the car. Galinda, as always, was radiant, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. Elphaba, however, was quieter now, her thoughts elsewhere.

“Tonight went well,” Galinda said, her voice low but confident, the words hanging in the air like a quiet declaration. “I was flawless as usual.”

“Yes,” Elphaba agreed, her voice steady. “As always, Ms. Upland.”

For a moment, the air in the car was thick with unspoken words. Then, out of nowhere, Elphaba spoke.

“I’m going to quit.”

Galinda’s expression faltered for a split second, her brow furrowing in confusion. “What?” she asked, the word catching in her throat. “You’re what?”

Elphaba’s eyes remained fixed ahead, her face calm but distant. “I’m quitting. I’m leaving.”

A stunned silence filled the car. Galinda sat up straighter, her breath catching in her throat. “Elphaba, why? After everything, you’re just going to leave me?”

Elphaba remained quiet for a long moment, and then, softly, she said, “It’s… personal reasons, Ms. Upland.”

Galinda blinked, still trying to process the gravity of what she had just heard. “Personal?” she repeated, as though the words were foreign. “That’s all? I’ve been counting on you for seven years. You owe me an explanation.”

Elphaba’s green eyes met Galinda’s, calm and unreadable. She smiled faintly, a quiet satisfaction in her expression, as though content with everything she had worked for. “I can’t say more than that, Ms. Upland. I’m sorry.”

The words hit Galinda like a sudden cold breeze. She wasn’t used to not having control over a situation, especially not when it involved someone who had been by her side for so long. A thousand questions raced through her mind. Why now? What happened? Did she do something wrong? Could she change Elphaba’s mind?

But for the first time in years, Galinda was at a loss for words. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

Elphaba turned her gaze back to the window, the faint reflection of the city lights flickering in her eyes. Galinda’s mind was spinning, her thoughts unraveling. She couldn’t fathom the idea of losing the one person who had made everything so effortless for her.

The silence stretched between them, thick and heavy, as the car continued its journey through the night. Galinda stayed silent, her heart racing with unanswered questions.

She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know how to stop it.

And for the first time, it felt like there was nothing she could do to change Elphaba’s mind.

The office doors slid open with a soft, familiar whoosh. 

But Galinda’s entrance was far from the usual scene of effortless grace. The radiance that had once made her the uncontested center of attention felt muted, drained by the tension of a conversation that replayed in her mind, over and over again, like a song stuck on repeat.

“I’m going to quit.”

Her golden hair, which usually shimmered with a kind of ethereal glow, seemed dimmer today, as though the morning light couldn’t quite reach it. The sharp, confident steps that typically announced her arrival faltered just slightly, like a dancer forgetting her rhythm. Galinda's head remained high, but something in her posture—a subtle shift—betrayed the turbulence she tried to mask.

The usual hum of the office seemed to hang in the air, an uneasy stillness that had nothing to do with the late hour or the early rush of papers. As Galinda passed by rows of cubicles, she caught the glances of her subordinates, too aware of her unusual quiet. Their smiles faltered, like props in a play whose script had suddenly changed.

Boq, seated at his desk, leaned over to his colleague, voice low, almost uncertain. “Even today... she’s still beautiful,” he whispered, a trace of admiration in his words. “I guess it doesn’t matter what kind of mood she’s in, does it?”

His colleague chuckled softly, but the laughter died quickly in the charged atmosphere, and they both returned to their work, uncertain of the silent shift that had taken place in their boss.

Just outside, in front of the polished door to Galinda’s private office, Elphaba sat at her desk, her hands expertly flipping through paperwork, the steady rustle of paper the only sound in an otherwise hushed space. Though she maintained her usual calm and focus, her green eyes occasionally flicked toward Galinda’s door, as if she could feel the shift in the air. She didn’t look up as Galinda passed by. Even from this distance, Elphaba could sense the change. It was the tension in the air, the shift in Galinda’s posture. The high-strung, confident CEO of yesterday seemed almost fragile today.

Elphaba’s fingers paused on the edge of a file, and for the briefest moment, she wondered if she had made the right decision.

Galinda sat at her desk, distracted, when her eyes landed on a plain envelope among the papers. Her breath caught as she opened it, quickly scanning the resignation letter.

“I regret to inform you that I am resigning from my position as your secretary, effective immediately.”

The words hit her like a blow. She stared at the letter, her mind reeling, unable to process what she had just read.

Galinda scoffed, her heart pounding in disbelief. She threw the resignation letter back onto her desk, the paper tumbling among the other scattered documents. A surge of frustration rose within her, and for a split second, she wanted to rip it apart, burn it—make it disappear. But instead, she sat frozen, staring at it, as if willing the letter to take back what it had said.

The door suddenly creaked open, and Galinda jumped, the shock making her heart race. Elphaba stood in the doorway, as calm and composed as ever, holding a stack of documents. Her green eyes briefly flicked to the letter on the desk, but she said nothing, merely offering the papers to Galinda with her usual quiet professionalism.

“Sign these when you get a chance,” Elphaba said, her voice as steady as ever.

Galinda’s mind raced, but she couldn’t hold back. “Elphaba... What’s the real reason? Why are you doing this?”

Elphaba’s smile was small, practiced. “It’s personal, Ms. Upland.” Her answer didn’t change. Her tone was polite, detached, and before Galinda could press further, Elphaba turned, her quiet footsteps retreating down the hall.

Galinda stared after her, the door clicking shut with finality. After a second, her laughter rang out, sharp and incredulous, as she stared at the letter. “Elphaba, quitting? Please. She’s probably just trying to get a rise out of me,” she muttered, shaking her head and chuckled to herself, but the sound faltered as the gravity of the situation sank in. “No, no, that’s not funny. She’s serious, isn’t she?” Her voice dropped to a disbelieving whisper as she glanced at the door, as if Elphaba might be standing there, waiting to burst out laughing at her stunned face.

After the workday ended, Galinda found herself heading to the cozy, familiar café where she and Shenshen had always met. The dim lighting and warm ambiance helped dull the sharp edge of her mind. Shenshen was waiting for her at their usual corner booth, a steaming cup of tea in front of her.

Shenshen Minkos had been Galinda’s best friend since their days at Shiz University, and while their paths had diverged—Galinda becoming the powerful CEO of Upper Uplands, and Shenshen helping her family run a small but successful business—it was clear that their bond had remained just as strong. Shenshen’s family-owned business wasn’t quite as grand as Galinda’s, but it was thriving, and it kept her grounded in ways Galinda sometimes envied.

“Long day?” Shenshen asked with a raised eyebrow as Galinda slid into the seat across from her.

Galinda sighed dramatically, letting her purse slide off her shoulder. “You have no idea. It’s like the universe is testing me.” She pushed a stray lock of her golden hair behind her ear, the tiredness in her voice unmistakable. “Elphaba’s quitting.”

Shenshen blinked. “Wait, what? Elphaba?”

“Yes. She’s... resigning. Just like that,” Galinda said, a bitter laugh escaping her. “She says it’s for ‘personal reasons,’ but I know her. She’s always been so reliable. It doesn’t make sense.”

Shenshen leaned back, tapping her fingers against the table. “Well, I hate to break it to you, but maybe it’s like... the seven-year itch?” She raised an eyebrow, letting the words hang in the air.

Galinda stared at her, confusion mixing with frustration. “What do you mean?”

“You know, like in relationships,” Shenshen said, taking a slow sip of tea. “After a while, the spark fades, people get restless. Maybe she feels like she’s been in the same routine for too long. It’s like she needs something different.”

Galinda’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “You think that’s it? I just... I’ve always relied on her. She’s always been there. What am I supposed to do if she leaves?”

Shenshen gave a knowing smile. “Well, if you want to keep her around, you have to make things new. Surprise her. Do something that shakes up the routine. Something she can’t resist.”

Galinda’s lips curved into a mischievous grin. “Something new, huh? Maybe I’ll show her that life with me still has some excitement left.”

“Exactly,” Shenshen nodded. “If she’s getting bored, give her a reason to stay. Not everyone likes predictability, you know?”

Galinda leaned back in her seat, a spark of determination lighting her eyes. “I can do that. I always do. Thanks, Shenshen.”

Shenshen had seen Galinda tired before, frustrated, even defeated—but whenever the name Elphaba slipped into the conversation, something shifted. Her tone softened, her eyes sharpened, as though the whole world had narrowed to a single point of focus. Shenshen winked. “Just don’t let her slip away too easily. She’s more important than you think.”

Galinda smiled faintly, already plotting how to make Elphaba realize there was still something worth staying for.

Shenshen hid her thoughts behind another slow sip of tea, offering nothing but a small, knowing smile. Galinda would figure it out on her own—or maybe she wouldn’t. Either way, Shenshen understood one thing with certainty: whatever Elphaba meant to her, it was far more than Galinda yet allowed herself to see.

And for now, Shenshen decided, that was enough.

Chapter Text

Galinda swept into her office with the same flourish she always carried, though today her thoughts betrayed a rare unrest. She closed the door softly—an unusual pause in her otherwise commanding routine—and leaned back against it for a moment, letting Shenshen’s words echo in her mind.

Something new. Something irresistible.

With deliberate confidence, she crossed the room, each click of her heels striking against the polished floor like a measured drumbeat. Sliding into her plush chair, her gaze instinctively found the large glass window that separated her office from the main work area.

There she was.

Elphaba.

Seated at her desk, posture immaculate, pen gliding across the page with quiet precision. Not a strand of hair out of place in her neat braid, not a flicker of distraction in her sharp green eyes. Every motion was measured, deliberate, focused entirely on the task at hand.

A slow, knowing smile curved Galinda’s lips.

“Honestly,” she murmured aloud to herself, twirling a pen between her fingers, “how could she even think about leaving me? I mean—look at me. Look at this.” She gestured vaguely at herself, her golden hair catching the light as she tossed it back with practiced ease. “People would kill for this arrangement. Seven years of working with the most fabulous, brilliant, and visionary CEO in Gillikin, and she wants to… quit? Please.”

Her eyes lingered on Elphaba just a moment longer, catching the slight furrow of her brow as she reviewed a document. Even in that seriousness, Galinda saw something she told herself was unmistakable—an attachment. A connection. Proof that Elphaba wouldn’t really walk away.

“No, she’s just being dramatic,” Galinda went on, tapping the pen against her desk. “Probably wants attention. I can work with that.” Her tone shifted into one of airy amusement, as though she were humoring a child. “Oh, Elphaba… you think you can resist me, but no one ever does.”

She leaned forward now, resting her chin in her hand, eyes narrowing in thought. “Something new… something dazzling… something only I can give.”

Her fingers drummed against the desk as an idea began to take shape. She could already picture it: an unexpected gesture, the kind of impossible-to-ignore display that would remind Elphaba exactly why she’d stayed this long.

Galinda’s mind was already assembling possibilities—lavish trips to the most exclusive resorts in Gillikin or even in Emerald City, a sleek new car with every luxury imaginable, maybe even doubling Elphaba’s salary. She could practically see Elphaba’s expression already, that subtle softening when she realized what an extraordinary deal she’d be turning down. Or perhaps a personal project they could “collaborate” on. Really, it was more than generous. Who else would offer their secretary such opportunities? No one, obviously.

Her gaze flicked back to Elphaba once more, and a glint of mischief sparked in her eyes. “Oh yes,” she said softly, her smile widening. “I’ll make sure she remembers who she’s dealing with.”

With that, Galinda picked up her phone, already dialing a number, the wheels in her head spinning toward a plan that was as much about keeping her secretary as it was about proving—mostly to herself—that no one ever walks away from Galinda Upland. Not without regret.

“Emerald Bay?” she said, her tone effortlessly confident as soon as the line connected.

One spectacular weekend, she thought, and Elphaba would realize exactly why she’d never—could never—walk away.

The opportunity came mid-morning. Galinda spotted Elphaba walking down one of Upper Uplands’ gleaming corridors, a slim stack of files in her hands. Employees stepped aside automatically as the CEO approached, their polite greetings barely acknowledged as Galinda’s attention fixed on her secretary.

“Elphaba,” Galinda called, her voice carrying that effortless command that made people instinctively pause. She caught up in a few swift strides.

“I’ve been thinking,” Galinda began, falling into step beside Elphaba as they moved down the marble corridor, her heels clicking confidently against the polished floor. She spoke as if she were about to reveal a revelation that could alter the course of history. “You’ve been with me a long time—seven years—and frankly, I don’t think I’ve given you enough.” She waved a hand dismissively, the gesture cutting through the sterile office air.

Elphaba slowed slightly, brow knitting as she adjusted the stack of papers in her arms. “Ms. Upland?”

“Picture this,” Galinda went on, keeping pace, her voice lilting with that characteristic mix of charm and certainty. “You, on a private balcony at the Emerald Bay Resort—five stars, ocean views, every cocktail imaginable delivered to you before you even think to order. All expenses paid, of course.”

Elphaba blinked, her steps faltering for just a heartbeat. That was… unexpected.

“And the best part?” Galinda added, a triumphant glint in her eye. “I’ve already taken care of it. Reservations are made. Penthouse suite, spa treatments scheduled, everything. We leave this weekend.”

“I—Ms. Upland, I don’t—” Elphaba began, attempting to interject, her voice carrying a note of protest.

But Galinda waved a hand, continuing as if Elphaba hadn’t spoken at all. “Or—” her eyes lit up, “—a new car. Not just any car. Something sleek, black, impossible to ignore when you pull up to work. Heated seats, top-of-the-line sound system.”

Elphaba’s expression shifted subtly, her surprise now clear in the slight widening of her eyes. She opened her mouth, but Galinda pressed on before she could speak.

“And, if you really want to be practical,” Galinda added with a flourish, “I could simply double your salary. Easy. Done. You wouldn’t even have to ask. I’d just… do it. Because you’ve earned it. And because no one else will treat you like I do.” She stopped, turning to face Elphaba fully.

For a moment, Elphaba just looked at her—shock flickering across her usually composed features. “That’s… very generous, Ms. Upland,” she said finally, her voice careful, as if still processing the scale of what she’d just heard.

Galinda’s smile widened. “Of course it is. I’m very generous. And I’m offering because I know what’s best for you. And what’s best for you is… staying here. With me.” She tossed her hair for emphasis, as if that settled the matter entirely.

Elphaba sighed, the surprise still lingering faintly in her expression. Then her lips curved into the faintest, professional smile—the kind that held no malice, no mockery, just courtesy. “I appreciate the offers,” she said, voice polite and calm. “But I’m still going to quit.”

The words landed like a slap.

Galinda froze, her confident expression faltering for the briefest moment. “What?”

“I’m still leaving,” Elphaba repeated, her tone smooth and professional, the small smile still in place. “Excuse me,” she added softly, giving Galinda a polite nod. Without another word, she stepped around her and continued down the hall, her measured footsteps echoing against the marble until they faded entirely.

Galinda stood there, frozen, her jaw practically dangling. She said no? She actually said no? Galinda’s brain tried to compute it, but circuits were clearly fried. She waved a hand helplessly at the empty hallway, as if it might answer for her. She strode back to her office.

Once inside, she flopped dramatically onto the sofa, flailing her arms. “I’m insulted, I’m shocked, I’m… who even does that?!”

Galinda tapped her finger impatiently against the table, the soft rhythm punctuating her mounting frustration. Her tea sat untouched in front of her, steam curling lazily from the cup as if mocking her. She was in the same corner booth as before, the low hum of the café doing nothing to soothe her fraying nerves.

Across from her, Shenshen watched with an amused but wary expression, like someone observing a cat that had just been denied the sunniest spot on the windowsill.

“She said no,” Galinda said flatly, eyes narrowing at the memory. “No to Emerald Bay. No to the car. No to the salary increase. She just… walked away. Walked away, Shenshen!” She tossed her golden hair back in disbelief.

“I… ” she paused and let out a dramatic sigh, pressing a hand to her forehead. “I even had to cancel the Emerald Bay reservation. All that planning, gone. Just like that.”

Shenshen raised an eyebrow. “You’re telling me she turned down a luxury resort, a brand-new car, and double her pay?”

“Yes!” Galinda snapped, then softened her tone when the barista glanced over. “Yes. I laid out the most irresistible options any sane person would leap at, and she smiled—smiled!—and said she’s still quitting. I mean, who does that?”

Shenshen leaned back, stirring her tea with a slow, deliberate motion. “Someone who’s not looking for stuff.”

Galinda blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Stuff,” Shenshen repeated, her tone patient. “Cars. Vacations. Money. Maybe that’s not what she wants. Maybe what she needs isn’t something you can buy.”

Galinda scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous. Everyone has a price, Shenshen. Everyone. It’s just a matter of finding the right number—or the right car color.”

“Not always,” Shenshen said, her gaze steady. “You’ve built an empire on deals and incentives, Galinda, but Elphaba’s been with you for seven years. If she’s leaving now, it’s not because you didn’t pay her enough or send her to enough fancy places. It’s because something else is missing.”

Galinda frowned, her brow knitting as if Shenshen had just spoken in an unfamiliar language. “Missing? She has the perfect job. She has me. What more could she possibly want?”

Shenshen tilted her head, her voice soft but pointed. “Maybe she wants something you don’t even think about giving. Something like… recognition that’s not just about her efficiency. Or maybe time. Or maybe—” she smirked faintly “—something personal.”

Galinda’s lips parted, a protest on the tip of her tongue, but no words came out. The idea that Elphaba might be leaving for something intangible—something she couldn’t simply provide with a purchase order—was… unsettling.

Shenshen sipped her tea, watching her friend’s uncharacteristic silence. “If I were you,” she said finally, “I’d figure out what she really wants before it’s too late. Because if it’s not about the material things, then all your glamorous offers are just noise.”

Galinda stared down at her untouched tea, her reflection rippling on the surface. The thought of Elphaba walking away was like a knot she couldn’t untangle, and for the first time, she wasn’t sure how to pull the right thread.

Elphaba leaned back in her sofa, the soft hum of her apartment around her a quiet contrast to the polished chaos of Galinda’s office. She held her phone to her ear, smiling as her sister, Nessarose, familiar voice came through.

“How’s the new job?” Elphaba asked.

“It’s… okay,” Nessa replied. “Pretty hard since I’m new, but I’m adjusting. And the pay’s good, which is… nice.” She laughed softly, and Elphaba found herself smiling.

“I’m glad to hear that. You’ve earned it.”

There was a pause, then Nessa spoke again. “I was thinking… maybe I could come visit you in Gillikin sometime. See the city, catch up.”

“I’d like that. It’s… been too long.”

They talked a little longer, joking about small things, until Elphaba finally said, “Nessa… I’m going to quit.”

There was a sharp intake of breath. “Wait… what? Why? Did your boss ask you to work overtime again?”

Nessa’s voice carried that familiar edge—she remembered all the late-night calls when Elphaba would grumble about being buried in files because Galinda had a “brilliant idea” at midnight, or how her weekends vanished under “urgent” projects that couldn’t possibly wait until Monday.

Elphaba smiled faintly at the memory, though without much warmth. “No. Not this time.” She shook her head, even though Nessa couldn’t see it. “Everything’s fine. I’ve taken care of our debts, and you’ve got your own job now. I think… it’s time for me to step back. Just… for me.”

Another pause, and then Nessa’s voice softened. “I’m sorry you had to carry that for so long.”

“No… we did it together,” Elphaba said lightly. She let out a small laugh, the tension of years slowly melting away. “And now it’s done. Time to enjoy life a little—no spreadsheets, no endless meetings, no… Galinda.”

“Sounds like freedom,” Nessa said with a grin.

“Exactly,” Elphaba replied, letting the word stretch in her mouth, tasting it. She set the phone down, leaning back with a small, satisfied sigh.

For the first time in a long time, she felt… free—though a tiny part of her wondered if quitting would really mean that. Still, just for a moment, she let herself enjoy it.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Galinda arrived at the office earlier than usual—a rarity that sent the front desk receptionist scrambling to look busy. She breezed through the glass doors, her golden hair perfectly set, but her mind unusually focused.

She had decided, after a restless night replaying Shenshen’s words, that maybe the problem wasn’t the what, but the how. If Elphaba wanted something personal, then personal she would get. And who better to deliver it than Galinda Upland herself?

She spotted Elphaba at her desk, typing with her usual calm efficiency. The sight stirred something Galinda couldn’t quite name—something that wasn’t frustration, but wasn’t comfort either. She stopped a few paces away.

“Morning, Elphaba,” she said, her tone softer than usual.

Elphaba glanced up, a flicker of surprise crossing her face before she nodded. “Good morning, Ms. Upland.”

Galinda hesitated—hesitated—before speaking again. “Listen, I’ve… been thinking. You’ve been here a long time, and I may not always say it, but I know how much you’ve done for me. For the company.” She cleared her throat, the words tasting unfamiliar. “I wouldn’t have gotten here without you.”

Elphaba blinked. That was… not the kind of thing Galinda usually said. “Thank you,” she replied, her voice measured.

Galinda pressed on, determined to see this through. “So, I thought… maybe we could take the morning off. Just the two of us. Coffee somewhere quiet. No business talk. My treat.”

For a moment, Elphaba studied her boss with a slightly raised brow, as if trying to decide if this was some elaborate setup. It was unusual—too unusual. But refusing outright felt awkward.

Finally, she gave a small nod. “If that’s what you’d like, Ms. Upland, then… all right.”

Galinda’s smile brightened instantly. “Wonderful! We’ll leave in fifteen minutes.”

As Galinda breezed away toward her office, Elphaba returned to her desk, her fingers poised over the keyboard but unmoving. She wasn’t sure what had just happened—why Galinda had suddenly decided to speak to her like that, why she wanted to spend the morning together.

Perhaps it was a gesture to convince her not to quit. The thought made her brow crease slightly. If it was, Galinda had chosen a very un-Galinda-like approach—gentle, almost personal. And yet, that made it all the more confusing.

The little bell over the café door chimed as they stepped inside, the warm scent of coffee and freshly baked pastries wrapping around them. It was quieter here than the bustling streets outside—just the occasional hiss of the espresso machine and the soft hum of conversation from a few scattered tables.

Elphaba followed Galinda to a table by the window, the light spilling in pale ribbons over the polished wood. She sat stiffly, folding her hands together, unsure of what exactly she was supposed to do in this… non-work setting. This was the first time she and Galinda had been anywhere together without contracts, files, or deadlines between them.

Galinda ordered for both of them without asking—of course she did—then leaned forward with a curious glint in her eyes. “So… tell me about yourself. We’ve been working together for seven years, and I still barely know anything about you.”

Elphaba blinked. “What about me?”

“Well,” Galinda began brightly, ticking off her questions as if she had them written down somewhere, “Do you have any siblings? Where do you live? And—oh—what were you doing before you became my secretary?”

Elphaba straightened in her chair. “I have a younger sister,” she replied evenly. “I live in a small apartment just two subway stations away, in the Upper Uplands. And before working for you, I was with a publishing house.”

Galinda’s eyes lit up with interest. “Publishing? That sounds… terribly serious.”

“It was,” Elphaba said, her lips quirking slightly at the understatement.

Then, Galinda tilted her head, studying her for a moment before blurting, “How is it that your eyes are that green? They’re… striking.”

Elphaba froze for half a beat, her posture stiffening. “I… don’t know,” she said quietly. “They’ve always been that way.”

Her fingers tightened together in her lap, and though her expression stayed composed, something unsettled flickered behind her eyes. The color had always followed her, marked her, tied her to things she would rather forget.

Galinda’s voice broke into her thoughts, light and sincere. “Well, I like them.”

Elphaba blinked, caught off guard. She didn’t answer right away, only looked down at her hands, unsure what to do with the strange warmth creeping into her chest.

Galinda kept going, peppering her with more questions—little ones that Elphaba answered politely, though the awkwardness lingered like a shadow at the edge of her posture. She wasn’t used to being the subject of Galinda Upland’s attention when it wasn’t about work. And she wasn’t entirely sure what Galinda was trying to uncover.

The rest of their café visit passed in a surprisingly easy rhythm—Galinda asking, Elphaba answering, the conversation meandering from work to family to the sort of harmless details that never came up in the office. When they finally returned to the building, Galinda was all business again, and Elphaba buried herself in her usual tasks, wondering if the morning’s outing had been some strange anomaly.

By the time the day ended, the sky outside was washed in violet and gold. Elphaba gathered her bag and stepped out onto the quiet street, the cool air brushing against her face. She was halfway to the tram stop when a sleek car rolled to a stop in front of her.

The car’s window lowered. “Need a ride?” Galinda’s voice was bright, her smile almost smug.

Elphaba froze. Galinda was alone—no driver—just her in the driver’s seat of her own car. Before Elphaba could speak, Galinda hopped out, her heels clicking against the pavement.

“You don’t have to—” Elphaba began, but Galinda raised a manicured finger to her lips in a playful shush. Without a word, she opened the passenger door with a little flourish.

Elphaba blinked, her confusion written plainly across her face. This was… unusual. Even for Galinda. She hesitated for a moment, clutching her bag, before finally sliding into the seat.

Galinda closed the door, rounded the car, and slipped behind the wheel. “Buckle up,” she said lightly, starting the engine.

The drive passed mostly in silence, the hum of the engine and the blur of passing lights filling the space between them. When Galinda finally pulled up in front of Elphaba’s apartment building, Elphaba unbuckled her seatbelt and gave a small, polite nod.

“Thank you for the ride,” she said as she stepped out of the car.

But before she could close the door, Galinda was out too, circling around to stand by the sidewalk. Her smile was radiant—one of those bright, open expressions that could disarm even the most guarded person. “See you tomorrow,” she said cheerfully, the kind of cheer that felt almost impossible to resist.

Elphaba turned toward the entrance, her steps slow. She could feel Galinda’s eyes on her, waiting. She had nearly reached the door when she paused, glancing back.

“If you’re doing all of this… what you did today… just to make me stay,” Elphaba said, her voice even but not unkind, “please stop.”

The words hung in the air like an unexpected chill. Galinda’s brilliant smile faltered, dimming in an instant.

The look on her face—confusion edged with hurt—made Elphaba’s stomach twist. “I’m sorry,” Elphaba added quickly, shifting her bag on her shoulder. She hesitated, torn between walking away and saying what she’d been keeping to herself for weeks.

Finally, she drew a quiet breath. “You have the right to know. We’ve worked together too long for me not to tell you.”

Galinda didn’t speak, just waited.

“My sister has a good job now,” Elphaba began, her tone softening. “She’s standing on her own feet, and I don’t have to worry about her the way I used to. And I’ve finally paid off all our debts… debts that were mostly because of my father.” She gave a faint, almost self-conscious shrug. “For years, I’ve been so busy—always here, always working with you—that I never had the chance to do other things. I want to live my own life now. Maybe even get married.”

Her gaze flicked away for a moment, before she added quietly, “And… I want to go back to Munchkinland.”

Galinda’s expression shifted at once. The faint hurt from earlier sharpened, tugging at her features in a way she couldn’t hide. The idea of Elphaba being far away—gone from the office, gone from her daily life—pressed against her chest with an ache she didn’t understand. She couldn’t imagine it, couldn’t bear the thought of walking into work and not seeing her there. And yet, she didn’t know why the idea unsettled her so deeply.

Elphaba hesitated, then went on, her voice softer still. “There’s also… someone there I want to find.”

Galinda didn’t respond right away. She stood there, arms loosely crossed, the weight of Elphaba’s words settling over her like a slow tide. Her bright smile was gone now, replaced by a searching, unreadable look.

Finally, she spoke. “Who is this… someone?”

Elphaba hesitated, then said simply, “Someone from the past that I’m… grateful to.”

Something tightened in Galinda’s posture. “Is this person the one you want to marry?” she asked, the question light on the surface but edged with something sharper beneath.

Elphaba gave a small shrug. “I wonder. We haven’t seen each other since the day we met, so… I don’t know.”

Galinda’s lips curved again—not with the usual sweetness, but with a confident, almost daring smile. “Then you should marry me instead,” she said, as if it were the most reasonable solution in the world. “That way, we can be together forever.”

The words lingered in the night air between them, leaving Elphaba frozen in the doorway, unsure if Galinda was joking… or dead serious. Her expression unreadable except for the flicker of disbelief in her eyes.

“Ms. Upland…” she began, her voice low, almost careful. “I’m sorry. I really am. But I can’t do that.”

Galinda had felt her smile falter, but Elphaba kept going.

“All we’ve ever done is work. And I don’t want that to be forever. Marriage is… serious. It’s not just another contract to sign. And… I can’t truly live my own life if I’m still your secretary. Even on my days off, you still call me about work—sometimes more than once. It’s like the office follows me home, and I can never really breathe.”

Elphaba’s gaze softened, though her voice didn’t waver. “I’m sorry, Ms. Upland… truly. But I can’t say yes.” She shifted the coat in her arms, a quiet signal that the conversation had reached its end. “I should go. It’s been a long day. Thank you again for giving me a ride home.”

She offered one last, almost hesitant glance, then stepped back into her apartment. The door clicked shut. Galinda stood frozen on the sidewalk, staring at the wood grain.

She had been turned down. Again.

She—Galinda Upland—had offered herself, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that others would kill for, and Elphaba had politely declined like she was passing on an hors d’oeuvre at a dull party.

But beneath the disbelief, Galinda felt something she couldn’t name. She didn’t understand why Elphaba’s rejection stung more than the slight to her pride, why it sat heavier in her chest than she wanted to admit.

Galinda blinked, shook her head in disbelief, and muttered to herself, “Honestly, this woman needs her head examined,” and she stomped back toward her car.

By the time Galinda stormed back into her office, the gloss of her morning diplomacy had worn off entirely. Her hair was still perfect—Galinda’s hair was always perfect—but the shine in her eyes had shifted from charm to a sharp, unmistakable irritation. The offer had been brilliant, extravagant, foolproof.

And Elphaba had turned it down without even blinking.

Galinda dropped her designer bag onto the desk like it had personally offended her and stabbed at her phone screen.

“Shenshen,” she said, each syllable clipped and lethal, “get in here. Now.”

When her best friend arrived—latte in hand, wearing the lazy smile of someone who thought this was just another midweek drama—Galinda didn’t bother with preamble.

“You will not believe the day I’ve had,” Galinda began, her words tumbling out in clipped, high-speed bursts, pacing the length of the room like a trial lawyer about to deliver her closing argument. “First, I arrived early—yes, early, you heard me—because apparently punctuality is the only way to earn someone’s trust around here. Then I invited Elphaba to coffee. Coffee, Shenshen, do you know how much caffeine I sacrificed for diplomacy? I even went so far as to drive her all the way to her apartment—me, personally, behind the wheel, like some sort of chauffeurless mortal. And do you know what she did? She… rejected me. Again.”

Shenshen blinked. “Well, she’s been rejecting you all week, so—”

“No, no, no,” Galinda cut in, hand slicing the air. “Not just a promotion, not just my personally curated benefits package. I went further this time.”

Shenshen leaned forward, intrigued. “How much further?”

Galinda’s chin wavered as she lifted it, though her eyes darted away, unsure if she should say it at all. When the words finally tumbled out, they were colored with embarrassment. “I… asked her to marry me.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then Shenshen’s mouth twitched. “Oh, that’s good. That’s really good. The ‘CEO proposes to aloof subordinate’ bit—you’re killing me.” She laughed, loud and unrestrained. “What a nice joke.”

Galinda didn’t laugh.

The sound of Shenshen’s own chuckles seemed to echo back at her in the sudden quiet. Slowly, the amusement drained from her face as she noticed Galinda’s crossed arms and the sheer, unblinking seriousness in her expression.

“…Wait,” Shenshen said, straightening. “You… you actually asked her to marry you?”

And, as if summoned by the sting of the memory, Galinda’s mind dragged her back to that moment.

“Yes,” Galinda said, leaning back against her sofa now, one hand dramatically flung over her eyes as though reliving the trauma, “I really did ask her to marry me.”

Shenshen stared. “Galinda, what—why—how in Oz’s name—?”

“Because,” Galinda snapped, then sighed, shoulders sagging for just a fraction of a second, “it seemed like the only logical next step. I mean—come on—it was me I offered. Me. Do you know how many people would consider that the highlight of their entire existence? And she just—turned it down.”

Shenshen was silent for a moment before she tilted her head, curiosity cutting through her amusement. “Why, though? Why are you so desperate to keep Elphaba by your side?” She thought she might already know the answer—but watching Galinda struggle to find the words was still fascinating.

Galinda opened her mouth, ready with some clever retort—but nothing came. She stared at the coffee table instead, fingers twisting in her lap. “I… don’t know,” she admitted at last. “I just… want her here. With me.”

Elphaba was curled up on the sofa, a half-empty bag of chips balanced on her lap, the flicker of the television painting lazy shadows across the room. Beside her was her sister, Nessarose sat primly, sipping tea as if she were in some refined parlor instead of Elphaba’s modest apartment. She’d dropped by unannounced that evening with a small smile and the simple explanation, “I missed you.” Elphaba hadn’t argued—she knew her sister well enough to recognize when that was the truth.

The crunch of chips was the only sound for a while, but Elphaba’s mind wasn’t on the movie. It kept looping back to the day—Galinda’s bright smile over the coffee table at the café, the quiet hum of the car ride to her apartment, and then… that. The offer.

“Marriage,” she muttered under her breath, as though saying it out loud might make it sound less absurd.

Nessarose glanced at her, brow furrowing. “What?”

“Nothing,” Elphaba said quickly, shaking her head.

Nessarose wasn’t buying it. “You’ve been staring at that commercial break like it insulted you personally. What are you thinking about?”

Elphaba tore her gaze away from the screen, letting the crinkle of the chip bag fill the pause. “Just… thinking about my boss,” she admitted. “She doesn’t want me to quit. She’s been… trying—desperately—to keep me there.”

“Well,” Nessarose said, her tone pragmatic, “you could stay. The pay’s good. And stability isn’t something to scoff at. Besides, you know how the rich are—if they want something, they get it. No excuses.”

Elphaba smiled faintly, shaking her head. “I know. And I do want to keep working, but… I want to be free, Nessa. Free to do what I want, when I want.” Her eyes softened, gaze drifting somewhere far past the walls of her apartment. “There are things I need to do now.”

Things she wasn’t ready to tell her sister—like the quiet, stubborn mission to find that someone she’d once met, a thread from her past she couldn’t seem to let go of. Her thoughts kept going—slipping further back, past offices and boardrooms, past school, into a time when her world had been no bigger than the dusty streets of their neighborhood.

Elphaba was only five when the memory carved itself into her.

It was early afternoon. Sunlight spilled weakly through the open door, catching the dust in the air. She had wandered near it, clutching the frame with tiny fingers. Inside, voices thundered—her parents shouting words she couldn’t untangle. She only knew the heat of anger in them, sharp and frightening.

Nessarose was a newborn then, crying somewhere behind her, the wails cutting through the storm. Elphaba’s own tears came, silent at first, then choking sobs as she stood frozen, watching.

And then her father snapped. His hand flashed toward the table, metal catching the lamplight. He raised the knife, his voice breaking into something monstrous. Elphaba’s breath hitched, but before she could see more, a hand pressed over her eyes, firm and trembling.

“Don’t look,” a voice whispered, thin with fear, other hand gripped her shoulder tight, as if the person needed the strength as much as she did.

The sounds still reached her.

A heavy thud. A sharp, sick crack of wood against wall. Her mother’s voice, cracked and desperate, begging over and over: “Don’t—please, don’t.”

Then the sickening rhythm of something piercing—meant to silence, not scare.

The person didn’t wait and pulled her, stumbling, out into the brightness of the day. The air was cool and fresh, mocking the terror in her chest. They ran and ran, her cheeks streaked with tears, until the house was no more than a shadow behind them.

When they finally stopped, Elphaba turned to look at the person through her blurred vision. The person was just a boy himself, she thought—seven or eight at most, his hair mussed from running, his simple shirt clinging with sweat. His chest heaved as if he’d carried both their fears at once.

He knelt, wiping her face clumsily with the edge of his sleeve. His smile wavered but stayed—fragile, like it might break at any second.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, though his own eyes were wet. “Everything’s gonna be okay.” Then his gaze lifted and met hers.

He stared into her green eyes, unflinching, and whispered, almost in awe, “They’re beautiful.”

For a moment, warmth bloomed in her chest. The boy’s words felt different—gentle, true. Genuine. It was the first time anyone had ever said that to her.

The boy didn’t let go of her hand, even after they stopped running. He glanced at her tear-stained face, then toward the open streets ahead, as if searching for something—anywhere safe. His eyes finally lit up when he spotted the small park nearby.

They slipped inside, the swings creaking faintly in the breeze. At first Elphaba just stood there, unsure, the terror of the house still pounding in her ears. But the boy nudged her toward the slide, gave her a small grin, and suddenly she was climbing, sliding, climbing again.

Hours blurred. For the first time in her short life, she really played. Other children in her neighborhood always looked at her differently, whispering about her green eyes, refusing to include her. But here—with him—it didn’t matter. He pushed her on the swings, spun the roundabout until she shrieked, and even chased her in clumsy games of tag.

Somewhere between the laughter and the sunlight, the memory of the afternoon dulled. She forgot about the screams, the knife, the tears. She laughed—a sound so strange to her own ears it startled her, but the boy laughed back, and soon it felt natural.

They spent the day there, as if nothing had happened at all.

But as the sun dipped lower, staining the sky orange and red, the world pulled them back. The boy took her hand again, quieter now, and together they walked back toward her street. Elphaba carried something in her arms as they went—something the boy had given her—and held it close without saying a word.

By the time they reached her home, the air was different. The hum of voices, the flash of uniforms, the yellow tape strung across the doorway. Police moved in and out like shadows. Her house was no longer a house, but a crime scene, though she couldn’t really understand why.

Then—

“Elphaba!”

Her aunt came running, face pale with worry. She knelt in front of her, grabbing her arms, eyes sweeping over her as if to be sure she was real. “Where did you go? We were so worried—”

Elphaba blinked at her, wide-eyed, and pointed to the boy beside her. “I just went to play with him,” she said softly.

The boy stood there, seven or eight, clothes scuffed from running.

Her aunt scooped her up before she could say anything more, clutching her tightly against her chest as if to shield her from the sight of flashing lights and grim faces. Elphaba leaned into her, suddenly small and tired, her cheek pressed against her aunt’s shoulder.

Her aunt glanced at the boy still standing there. “You should go home now,” she told him gently, her voice thick with strain.

The boy nodded, but lingered for a moment longer, eyes flicking from Elphaba to the house behind her.

Her aunt carried her back in front of their house, speaking quickly to a police officer. Elphaba twisted in her arms, spotting the boy still at the edge of the street. She waved her tiny hand and shouted, her little voice ringing through the dusk:

“Bye! Let’s play again!”

The boy just smiled—small, brave—and lifted his hand in a wave. The glow of the setting sun caught his hair, and then, like a shadow folding into the street, he was gone. 

It was also the day she last saw her mother.

And in the years that followed, her memory blurred at the edges—his face lost to time, his voice faint. All that remained was the echo of those words, the feel of his hand pulling her away, and the certainty that, for a moment, someone had truly seen her.

Sometimes, when she thought back on that day, regret tightened in her chest. She had never asked his name, though she held on to the quiet hope that one day they might meet again—so she could finally ask it properly.

Chapter Text

Galinda Upland swept into the office that morning like a winter draft—polished, brisk, and noticeably cold.

Her heels clicked a little sharper against the marble floor, her nod to Elphaba was clipped, and her voice, when she asked for her morning reports, carried none of the easy lilt it sometimes did. The memory of yesterday’s rejection hung between them like frost in the air, and Elphaba didn’t have to wonder why Galinda was acting this way. She’d been turning down every offer Galinda had made lately—especially the latest one.

Still… she hated to admit it, even to herself, but she missed the uncharacteristic sweetness Galinda had shown for that one, surreal day. The coffee. The ride home. The softer smile. It had been strange, yes—but not unpleasant. And now, with Galinda’s tone back to its usual steel, the absence of those gestures was more obvious than she’d expected.

Early in the morning, she stepped into Galinda’s office with a stack of documents and the week’s schedule to finalize. Galinda didn’t look up from her computer.

“Prepare everything for hiring my new secretary,” she said, the words delivered with the same detached efficiency she might use to order stationery. Then, softer—measured, as if rehearsed—she added, “Once the position is filled… you’ll be able to leave.”

Elphaba’s hand tightened fractionally on the folder. The words landed sharper than she expected—an echo she felt somewhere beneath her ribs. She shouldn’t be hurt; this was what she’d decided a long time ago, to leave before her search for someone from her past slipped completely out of reach. Still, it stung in a quiet, unshakable way. She didn’t answer right away—only nodded once and placed the papers on Galinda’s desk. If that was how Galinda wanted to play it, fine. She wasn’t going to ask questions.

By mid-morning, the office was already humming with a different kind of energy. Whispers trickled from cubicle to cubicle, traveling faster than official memos ever could.

Fiyero Tigelaar is coming.

The name alone carried weight. In the glossy business magazines, he was a fixture—the golden boy of the corporate world, known for taking struggling companies and turning them into empires. A killer investor, a strategist whose instincts were as sharp as they were lucrative. And, infuriatingly, he looked the part—tall, lean, with an effortless kind of charm that made him appear as though he’d stepped straight out of a royal portrait.

People didn’t just listen when Fiyero spoke—they leaned in, ready to be dazzled. One glance, one easy smile, and even the most composed executive might find themselves agreeing to whatever deal he proposed. He was as famous for his connections as he was for his results; his Rolodex could make or break careers, and everyone knew it.

Now, after years abroad overseeing a high-profile expansion in another country, he was back in Oz—and the entire building seemed determined to remind him of just how much his reputation preceded him.

By eleven, the buzz had reached a fever pitch. Assistants were “accidentally” wandering through the lobby in case they could catch a glimpse of him. Department heads adjusted their schedules so they could happen to be in the conference room at the right time.

Elphaba Thropp, meanwhile, typed steadily at her desk, ignoring the rising hum of voices. She didn’t even look up when two marketing interns scurried past, breathless with gossip about whether Fiyero’s eyes were actually that blue in person.

She didn’t care.

Not about his charm, not about his celebrity status, not about the mythos of the man who could make a boardroom swoon with a single handshake. To her, Fiyero Tigelaar was just another name on the day’s schedule—a meeting to prep, minutes to record, another box to check off before the end of the day.

It wasn’t cynicism. It was simply… practicality. People like Fiyero came and went. What mattered was the work that stayed behind when they were gone.

Still, as the clock crept toward noon and the air in the building seemed to sharpen with anticipation, Elphaba remained unmoved, focused on her work while everyone else seemed to buzz with expectation.

The break room was buzzing louder than the espresso machine. Clusters of employees leaned against counters or perched on stools, cups of coffee and snack wrappers in hand, trading every scrap of Fiyero-related gossip they’d gathered since morning.

“I heard he’s even more handsome in person.”

“They say he once closed a merger just by looking at the board members.”

“Oh, I read he’s staying at the Gillikin Skyview Grand. Of course he is—where else would a man like that stay?”

The girls near the window squealed, clasping their paper cups like they might faint if the man himself walked in.

Elphaba sat at one of the side tables, a mug in her hands, half-listening out of necessity rather than interest. She sipped her coffee, eyes on the swirl of steam instead of the conversation. It was all background noise, the same way she’d learned to tune out the low hum of the printers.

That was, until someone near the pastry counter lowered her voice just enough to be dramatic. “Well, my cousin works in PR at Upland Enterprises, and she says Ms. Upland and Fiyero were actually—” the woman paused for effect, “—ex lovers.”

Elphaba’s head snapped up so quickly she nearly spilled her coffee. “What?”

The table went quiet for a beat. A couple of employees exchanged wide-eyed glances; others blinked at her like she’d just spoken fluent Munchkinese.

Boq, seated beside her with a donut in one hand and a bemused smile, gave a soft chuckle. “And here I thought you didn’t care about gossip.”

Boq Woodsman had been one of her and Nessa’s oldest friends back in Munchkinland, which made him one of the very few people Elphaba actually talked to at work. She opened her mouth, ready to deny it, but stopped herself.

“So…” Boq leaned in conspiratorially, lowering his voice just enough to make it sound important. “I heard you’re quitting. Maybe I could apply for your job.”

Elphaba didn’t even blink. “Sure.”

That was all the encouragement he needed. “Imagine it—me, Ms. Upland’s secretary. We’d be together all the time. I’d know all her schedules, handle all her calls… maybe even have lunch with her every day.” His grin was ridiculous, half dreamy, half smug.

Elphaba made a noncommittal noise into her coffee. She couldn’t care less who took her place—Boq or a goldfish in a suit. But as he rambled on, her mind flickered back to the frost in Galinda’s tone that morning, the deliberate coolness in her eyes. She simply went back to her coffee, though the taste suddenly seemed much less interesting.

Boq wiped a bit of powdered sugar from his lip, then tilted his head at her. “So, why are you quitting, anyway?”

She shrugged, eyes on her cup. “Just… want to do something different with my life.”

“Fair enough.” He took another bite of his donut, then glanced at her again. “So, how’s Nessa doing?”

“She’s good,” Elphaba replied. “Already working as a nurse back in Munchkinland.”

“That’s good,” Boq said warmly. “We should all hang out sometime—the three of us. Just like old times.”

Elphaba was halfway down the corridor, arms full of documents, when she rounded a corner too sharply and collided with someone. Papers, folders, and a few stray pens skittered across the polished floor.

“Oh—sorry, I didn’t see you,” the man said immediately, offering his hand to help her up.

She ignored it, pushing herself to her feet with a quiet huff. Her eyes swept the scattered mess on the ground, irritation pricking at her temples. “Is this how you go through life? Just running and trampling anyone in your path?”

His brows rose at the bluntness. “No…” he said, shaking his head, and then, with a slight furrow of confusion, added, “No—sometimes I’m asleep.” As if to salvage the moment, he tipped her a quick wink, the kind meant to draw a laugh or at least a smile.

It earned him nothing but Elphaba’s flat, unimpressed stare. She crouched to gather her papers without another word.

That reaction—or lack thereof—made him blink. He was used to a little more… well, swooning.

“Fiyero is here!” someone exclaimed from down the hall.

The man’s head turned at once. A faintly knowing smile tugged at his mouth as he nodded in acknowledgment toward the voice.

Elphaba straightened, clutching the stack of recovered folders, and studied him for a moment. So this was Fiyero. The name everyone had been buzzing about. The one they said was Galinda’s ex.

Elphaba returned to Galinda’s office, the folder from her completed errand tucked neatly under one arm. She pushed the door open without ceremony, stepping into a conversation already in progress.

Galinda sat behind her desk, posture flawless, her tone light but focused as she spoke to the man across from her. Fiyero Tigelaar, up close, looked exactly as the rumors painted him—effortlessly composed, that polished sort of handsome that seemed almost practiced.

Both of them stopped talking the moment she entered, their gazes shifting to her.

Recognition lit in Fiyero’s eyes. “Oh—hey,” he said with a grin, lifting a hand in an easy wave.

Elphaba didn’t return it. She rolled her eyes—just slightly—before crossing the room and setting the folder down on Galinda’s desk.

Galinda’s brows arched faintly at the exchange. “You know her?” she asked, looking from Fiyero to Elphaba.

Fiyero leaned back in his chair, still watching her. “We bumped into each other earlier,” he said and looked at Galinda with a half-smile. Then, turning his attention to Elphaba again, he added, “Sorry about that, by the way.”

Elphaba gave a small nod before looking away.

“This is my secretary,” Galinda said, her voice cool, almost perfunctory. “Elphaba Thropp.”

“Elphaba,” Fiyero muttered, then he extended his hand toward her with an easy, practiced smile. “Nice to meet you.”

Elphaba hesitated, her gaze flicking to his offered hand for a brief moment. Then, deciding it was easier than making a scene, she took it in a quick, perfunctory shake—just enough to avoid being rude—before letting go.

After shaking Fiyero’s hand, Elphaba turned her attention to Galinda, giving her a small nod. She was already halfway to the door when Galinda’s voice stopped her.

“Elphaba’s going to quit,” Galinda said, her tone level but her eyes betraying the faintest flicker of something—hurt, maybe—as she glanced at Fiyero. “I’ll need a new secretary as soon as possible.”

The words landed heavier than Elphaba wanted them to. A flicker of guilt stirred in her chest, unwelcome but impossible to ignore. She found herself staring at Galinda a moment longer, searching for… she wasn’t sure what. But whatever it was, she didn’t find it.

“Excuse me,” she murmured, and left the room without another glance.

The rest of the day passed in its usual rhythm—calls, schedules, documents shuffled from desk to desk—until the clock crept toward quitting time. Elphaba was gathering her things when the door to Galinda’s office opened and Fiyero stepped out.

“Hi,” he greeted, his tone light, easy.

Elphaba glanced at him and managed the briefest of smiles—one that lasted all of a single second—before she returned to collecting her bag and coat.

“You know,” he said, as if the thought had just occurred to him, “your eyes…” His gaze lingered, warm and curious.

“They’re beautiful.”

Her head snapped up, the words striking something deep within her. For an instant, she wasn’t in the glossy hallways of Upper Uplands but back in a memory—five years old, meeting a boy whose eyes had looked at her the same way. And yet… something was missing.

She studied Fiyero’s face closely, searching for a familiarity that refused to fully form.

He blinked, a faint crease between his brows. “What? Do I have something on my face?”

Before she could answer, Galinda’s door swung open. Her gaze swept between them, catching the odd stillness in the air.

“What’s happening?” she asked, her tone neutral but edged with something unreadable.

Fiyero turned toward her with a small grin. “Just talking to your lovely secretary.”

“Oh. Okay.” Galinda’s reply was simple, but her eyes lingered on Elphaba, some unspoken hesitation painted across her expression. Then she looked back at Fiyero. “Let’s go.”

She walked away with him without another word.

Elphaba stood rooted in place, her bag strap still hanging loosely from her fingers, her pulse unsteady. That single sentence—They’re beautiful—still rang in her ears. She had never once tried to forget the boy who had said something so like it all those years ago; if anything, she had clung to the memory, turning it over in her mind again and again, hoping that one day she might find him… and finally see him again.

Now, she couldn’t tell if fate had just placed him in front of her… or if he was simply a reminder of the one she still hoped to see again.

Chapter Text

The morning sunlight spilled through the tall glass windows of Upper Uplands’ executive floor, the reception area outside Galinda Upland’s office was already occupied. Three applicants sat in stiff-backed chairs, résumés clutched like lifelines, their expressions caught somewhere between confidence and dread. Today marked the final round of interviews for Galinda’s new secretary—and, in true Galinda fashion, she would be conducting them herself.

Inside, Galinda sat behind her immaculate desk, the picture of composed authority. Elphaba lingered quietly in the background, half in shadow, her role unspoken but clear: to be on hand if Galinda needed something and, perhaps, to serve as a silent reminder of the standard being replaced.

One by one, the applicants were called in. Galinda began with the usual pleasantries, then shifted without warning to sharper, more intricate questions—hypothetical crises, conflicting priorities, the kinds of challenges that tested not only skill but composure. Elphaba kept her gaze on the floor, though she caught the occasional nervous glance aimed her way, as if the candidates thought she might be part of the exam.

When the second applicant left, Galinda’s eyes flicked toward Elphaba—not with warmth, not even acknowledgment, but with the cool efficiency she reserved for anyone strictly in her professional orbit. “Next,” she said, her tone clipped, before returning her gaze to the résumé in front of her.

Elphaba stepped to the door and called the third applicant in, feeling the weight of Galinda’s detachment settle heavier on her shoulders. It was a coldness she’d felt all week, a frost that never quite thawed, and today it seemed sharper than ever.

The third applicant entered with a confident stride, offering Galinda a practiced smile. He was neatly dressed, his tie a shade too bright for the room’s muted elegance.

Galinda gestured to the chair opposite her desk. “Sit. Let’s begin.”

Her questions came swift and precise, probing his ability to handle tight deadlines, sudden schedule changes, and difficult clients. He answered smoothly at first, but when Galinda asked, “How would you manage if my current secretary were unavailable on short notice?” his eyes flicked toward Elphaba.

“I suppose I’d do what she does,” he said with a polite nod in her direction. “From what I’ve heard, Ms. Thropp’s efficiency is something to be admired.”

The words caught Elphaba off guard. She looked up in time to see Galinda’s gaze lift from the résumé, cool and unreadable, settling briefly on her. For the briefest moment, something in that gaze softened—as if a thought flickered that she quickly pushed aside. Then it was gone, replaced by that piercing, icy look that seemed to measure and dismiss in the same breath, before she returned her attention to the applicant.

“Flattery won’t earn you this job,” Galinda said evenly, though the faintest tension edged her voice. “Continue.”

Elphaba’s pulse quickened for reasons she couldn’t fully name. She stayed silent, standing straighter. But she felt that look linger in the air between them long after the applicant resumed speaking, like a ghost neither of them was willing to name.

She shifted her weight, her hands clasped loosely in front of her, and for a moment her mind wandered back to her own final interview. It hadn’t been like this at all. Galinda had been sharp, yes, but her questions had felt almost… gentle compared to today, more like a careful test than a gauntlet. Elphaba remembered walking out afterward wondering if she’d even truly been evaluated—if she’d somehow slipped through without proving herself. The ease of it had left her doubting whether she’d actually earned the position, or if Galinda had simply decided, for reasons Elphaba never quite understood, that she wanted her there.

From where she stood, Elphaba could almost feel the sting of it herself. This wasn’t just thoroughness—this was Galinda at her most merciless, and she couldn’t help but wonder why.

Galinda dismissed the last applicant with a polite but final smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. The door clicked shut behind them, leaving the office in sudden, heavy quiet.

Elphaba lingered by the side, expecting another task or perhaps nothing at all. She was ready to slip away when Galinda let out a slow breath and slumped back into her chair, the rigid posture melting away.

“I don’t know,” she murmured, staring at the pristine surface of her desk as though it might hold the answer. “I can’t quite bring myself to replace you… or maybe I just can’t find one.” Her voice was softer now, stripped of the frost it had worn that day.

The change caught Elphaba off guard. For a heartbeat, the Galinda she’d once known—the one who could warm a room with a glance—was there again. And just as quickly, she looked away, hiding behind the sheen of professionalism.

Elphaba stood still, unsure what to say. A small, unwelcome pang stirred in her chest, the kind that made her wish she could pretend she hadn’t heard those words at all. She told herself it didn’t matter—that she’d made her choice—but part of her couldn’t ignore how different Galinda sounded when no one else was listening.

Galinda’s gaze finally lifted, meeting Elphaba’s with an intensity that felt heavier than any of her earlier coldness.

“Do you really have to leave me?” she asked quietly—no frost, no sharp edge this time, just the barest trace of something vulnerable beneath her usual polish.

Elphaba’s breath caught. Words hovered at the edge of her tongue but refused to form. Instead, her attention snagged on a small imperfection—Galinda’s collar, slightly askew. It was instinct, a habit ingrained from seven years of working at her side, to fix such things without thinking.

Before she realized it, she had crossed the room, almost without thinking, Elphaba leaned in a little closer, her face only inches from Galinda’s. The warmth of her presence, the subtle brush of air between them, made everything else fade. Her fingers brushed the soft fabric, smoothing it into place.

Then, their eyes locked—Galinda’s bright and searching, Elphaba’s guarded but unwilling to look away. Something unfamiliar lingered there, tentative but undeniable, and for a moment neither of them moved.

The door swung open without warning.

Both women jolted—Galinda’s fingers twitched toward the papers on her desk as if they might shield her from whatever had just been caught, her movements brisk but far from steady. Elphaba stepped back a pace, putting a little more space between them, unsure where to place her hands—or her eyes.

Fiyero stepped in, his gaze flicking between them with a puzzled expression, as if he’d walked in on something just moments too late to understand.

He started walking toward them, giving a quick, easy wave to Elphaba. “Hi Elphaba,” his smile reached his eyes.

Elphaba returned it with a small, polite nod, her expression unreadable.

As he drew closer, his eyes darted between the two women, catching the faint trace of tension in the air. His brow furrowed slightly at the awkward air. “Are you two… okay?” he asked.

Galinda cleared her throat—too briskly to be casual. “Yes. Perfectly fine.” She smiled and turned to Elphaba. Her eyes lingered on her for a fraction longer, something unspoken caught in them, before she added, “You can… go now.”

Elphaba gave the smallest of nods, but her gaze lingered on Galinda—almost against her will—what would have happened if the door hadn’t opened. The thought followed her as she turned away, the muffled sound of their voices behind her fading into the quiet hallway, leaving her with a strange, restless ache she couldn’t quite name.

Once Elphaba had gone, Galinda remained seated, her fingers brushing her chest where her heart beat unnaturally fast. What is this feeling? she wondered, recalling how close Elphaba had been when fixing her collar, how their eyes had locked just moments before. The question lingered, unbidden and urgent.

Fiyero sat across from her desk, eyebrows raised in confusion. “Are you… really okay?” he asked, his tone gentle but puzzled.

Galinda’s fingers brushed her chest one last time before she forced herself to straighten. She nodded quickly, though her movements were slightly jerky, betraying the rapid beat of her heart.

“Y-Yes,” she said, her voice catching faintly, a stutter betraying her usual composure. A small smile tugged at her lips. Then, gathering herself, she added more firmly, “Let’s get to work.”

Fiyero raised an eyebrow again but said nothing, watching her with quiet curiosity as Galinda turned her attention back to the papers on her desk, though her mind was far from the tasks in front of her.

Later that afternoon, Elphaba was by the photocopier, the rhythmic hum and click of the machine filling the quiet stretch of the hallway. She balanced a stack of documents in one arm, feeding them through with practiced efficiency, her mind already moving to the next task on her list.

Fiyero’s voice drifted in before he did—low, easy, and laced with amusement. “You always work this hard, or is this just for show?”

She glanced over her shoulder, not charmed in the slightest by the flawless grin he wore, but still… curious. He wasn’t teasing her the way most people did—there was no bite, no mockery—just that same strange sincerity she’d heard in his voice before.

A couple of employees passing by slowed, their gazes flicking between the two. Fiyero Tigelaar, charming prince of the boardroom, was known to command attention, but never like this. His eyes stayed fixed on Elphaba as if no one else existed, and the realization made a few jaws slacken.

Elphaba arched an eyebrow, handing off the last page to the output tray without breaking her rhythm. “Some of us actually have work to do,” she said evenly.

But Fiyero just smiled, leaning a little closer—not enough to be intrusive, but enough to make the onlookers exchange baffled glances. He wasn’t watching her work. He was watching her.

It unsettled her, the way he looked at her—not with the wariness she’d grown accustomed to, nor with the veiled pity she’d learned to deflect. His gaze felt… searching. As if he saw something worth finding. And she couldn’t decide if that was intriguing or dangerous.

“You’re different,” Fiyero said suddenly, his tone casual but laced with something more. “Everyone else around here either stammers or blushes when I look at them. You don’t.”

Elphaba paused, fingers hovering over the copier’s buttons. “Maybe I’m just not that easily impressed,” she replied, her voice even.

A slow grin tugged at his lips. “Or maybe you’ve just figured out I’m not worth swooning over.”

That earned him the faintest flicker of a smile from her—so brief it might have been imagined—before she pressed the next button. The copier’s light swept across the glass, humming in the silence between them.

When she finished, Elphaba gathered the documents and started toward her desk. She could feel his gaze on her back before hearing the sound of his footsteps following.

“Can I get your number?” he asked, falling into step beside her.

She glanced at him, brows knitting. “Why?”

He shrugged lightly, though his eyes didn’t leave hers. “Because I’m interested.”

Her steps slowed, her grip tightening just slightly on the papers in her hands. She didn’t answer right away, and that silence seemed to intrigue him even more.

Finally, she stopped and turned to face him fully. “People don’t usually say that to me,” she said, her voice quiet but steady.

“Then maybe they should start,” he replied without missing a beat.

Her eyes narrowed slightly, studying him like she had days ago—measuring, searching for something she couldn’t quite name. “If you’re looking for someone to flirt with during office hours, you’re better off talking to the ones who already swoon at you.”

“I’m not looking for them,” he said simply.

That caught her off guard, though she masked it well. Without another word, she stepped past him and kept walking, leaving Fiyero standing in the hall, a slow, curious smile spreading across his face. He let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “Play hard to get, huh? I like that,” he muttered under his breath, already watching her disappear around the corner.

The evening air was cool by the time Galinda slid into the plush booth across from Shenshen. The little wine bar was tucked away on one of the quieter streets, their usual haunt when Galinda needed to decompress after work.

“You look exhausted,” Shenshen remarked gently as Galinda set her bag aside and sank into the seat.

“I am,” Galinda let out a long sigh, propping her chin on her hand. “It’s been… a day.”

“So,” Shenshen began, eyeing her friend with the kind of knowing look only long-time friends could pull off. “What happened?”

Galinda sighed, leaning back against the seat. “I opened the position for secretary. Held interviews myself, of course.” 

Shenshen tilted her head, swirling the wine in her glass. “And?”

“And nothing,” Galinda muttered, frustration threading her words. “None of them were right. I gave up trying to convince Elphaba to stay—she keeps rejecting me, no matter what I do or say. But…” She trailed off, her voice catching as she pressed a hand lightly against her chest. “But I can’t seem to let her go. It’s… making me sad, Shenshen. What’s wrong with me?”

Shenshen snorted, almost choking on her drink. “Oh, for Oz’s sake. You seriously don’t know?”

Galinda’s brows knit. “No! If I did, I wouldn’t be asking you. I’m confused, and it aches, and—”

Shenshen set her glass down with a sharp click and leaned forward, her eyes narrowing. “You’re in love, Galinda.”

Galinda blinked. “…I’m what?” A short, incredulous laugh escaped her lips. “Don’t be ridiculous. In love—with Elphaba?”

“Yes!” Shenshen snapped, throwing her hands up. “You’re brilliant when it comes to work, Galinda. You can solve anything, fix anything, strategize anything. But when it comes to love, you’re a complete idiot.”

She jabbed an accusatory finger at her, eyes flashing with irritation. “Do you have any idea how exhausting it’s been, listening to you go on and on about Elphaba for years? Every little story, every complaint, every compliment dressed up as criticism—I’ve heard it all. You’ve been in love with her this whole time, Galinda, and you’re the only one too dense to notice!”

Shenshen gave a final, exasperated huff before leaning back. “You, Galinda Upland, are head over heels in love with Elphaba Thropp.”

Galinda opened her mouth to argue, but the words caught before they could form. She was shocked—Shenshen had never snapped at her like that before, not with such bluntness, not with such force. The sting of it left her momentarily speechless.

Her mind betrayed her, unspooling memory after memory—the strange flutter in her chest every time Elphaba entered the room, the restless ache when she left, the way she found excuses to text or call her even on her days off under the pretense of “work questions.” How she lingered on every rare smile, how she wanted—needed—her near, even if she never admitted it aloud.

The realization sent a strange warmth coursing through her, equal parts terrifying and exhilarating.

Her voice came out small, almost fragile. “Is that… really what this is?” She thought back briefly to her very, very short time with Fiyero—how none of it had ever made her heart race like this, how there had been no ache, no flutter, no restless pull to keep him near. Whatever this was with Elphaba, it was nothing she had ever felt with him.

Shenshen leaned back, rolling her eyes with exasperated fondness. “Yes, you absolute fool.”

Galinda pressed her palm more firmly against her chest, as though trying to steady the racing there. For once, she had no clever retort, no easy deflection. Just the thrum of her own heart, louder than it had ever been, whispering a truth she hadn’t dared name until now.

In love. With Elphaba.

Her breath caught, and a thousand moments came rushing back—the way Elphaba had leaned close to fix her collar earlier that day, the look in her eyes before the door had opened, the restless ache whenever she walked away.

She swallowed hard, a spark of something reckless rising in her chest. “Then… what am I supposed to do about it?” she whispered.

Shenshen smirked knowingly, lifting her glass. “That, darling, is the part you’ll have to figure out.”

Galinda stared down at the table, her heart hammering. For the first time, the idea of letting Elphaba go felt impossible.

And in that moment, she knew: she wasn’t going to.

The golden light of late afternoon slanted through the blinds, stretching long shadows across Galinda’s office. The hum of the building had quieted, the usual bustle fading into the soft murmur of a nearly empty floor. Only the scratch of Elphaba’s pen and the faint rustle of papers marked the passage of time as they worked in companionable silence—if it could even be called that—another workday drawing to a close.

Galinda had glanced at her more than once, each time quickly looking away before she could be caught. Her fingers drummed lightly against the desk, betraying a restlessness she was trying to suppress. Finally, she sat a little straighter, gathering her courage.

Her conversation with Shenshen lingered in her mind, echoing with every stolen glance. She knew now—there was no denying it anymore. She was in love. Completely, foolishly, undeniably in love with Elphaba. And that meant she couldn’t just sit here pretending nothing had changed. She had to do something about it… before it was too late.

“Elphaba…” she began, her voice careful, almost tentative.

Elphaba looked up from the report she was reviewing, waiting.

Galinda’s eyes flicked away for a moment, then back again. “About your… quitting.” She hesitated, searching for the right words. “I was thinking—if there’s any chance you could change your mind…” She trailed off, her gaze dropping to the stack of documents in front of her as if they could hide her uncertainty.

Silence stretched between them.

Then, after a moment, she tried again—this time her voice softer, more deliberate. “Maybe… I could get to know you. No.” She shook her head slightly, correcting herself. “I’d like to get to know more about you, Elphaba. And maybe…” She hesitated one last time, meeting Elphaba’s eyes. It was rare—almost unheard of—for Galinda Upland to be at a loss for words, yet here she was, struggling to string her thoughts together. “…in the remaining time you have left here with me, I could do that.”

Elphaba couldn’t help but smile at this rare display of a flustered Galinda. “I’d like that,” she said, her voice softer than she intended. “I’d like to know you as well, Ms. Upland.”

What she got in return was the brightest smile she had ever seen from Galinda—so bright it actually made her blink. Wow. And then she noticed it—just at the corner of Galinda’s mouth on the left side—a dimple. Had that always been there? Or had she been too busy at work for seven years to see it?

Her mind betrayed her, lingering on how cute Galinda looked when she stumbled over her words… and how beautiful she looked smiling at her like that right now.

Elphaba gave a quick, almost imperceptible shake of her head. What am I thinking? Nope. Not going there.

Galinda tilted her head curiously. “What?”

“Nothing,” Elphaba replied quickly, snatching up a stack of papers.

Galinda blinked at her, slightly confused, before muttering, “Okay,” and giving a small nod as if shrugging it off.

And Elphaba pretended it didn’t make her chest feel weird.

Chapter Text

It was her day off—a rarity she always looked forward to. Every time, Elphaba prayed Galinda wouldn’t suddenly call or text her for some “urgent” work matter, so she could actually enjoy it.

She woke quite late, a smile already tugging at her lips—no alarm needed, no obligations pressing her awake. She promised herself she would spend the day productively, though in her own way, savoring the small joys she often missed. She lingered over a quiet breakfast, then got dressed with no particular plan in mind. The silence from her phone was almost suspicious, but she decided to take it as a blessing.

Stepping out of her apartment, she let the morning air hit her face and wandered toward the small park a few blocks away. Children’s laughter drifted from the playground, mingling with the rustle of leaves overhead. She sat on a bench, stretching her legs out, watching the sunlight flicker between the branches. As she observed the children chasing each other and swinging high into the sky, a sudden pang of memory struck her—she could almost see him there, the boy from her past, running with the same reckless joy, his laughter echoing in her mind like it had years ago.

She glanced at her phone, still no text or call from Galinda. Not even a “where are you?” or a “come in, I need you.”

For most people, a free day like this would be a gift. But Elphaba… didn’t quite know what to do with herself. She’d spent the last seven years tethered to her boss’s schedule, the constant hum of work filling every space in her life.

What would she do once she quit?

Yes, she’d already decided—there was no going back now. Maybe she’d find a new job at Munchkinland, something quieter, something that didn’t consume her every waking hour. And maybe—though the thought felt foolish—she could use that time to search for the boy from her past.

It had been years, and the chances were slim to impossible. But still… a small, stubborn part of her kept the hope alive.

Elphaba was halfway back to her apartment, lost in her thoughts, when she froze. Parked at the curb was a sleek, pearlescent-white car she knew all too well.

And there, standing in front of her building like she owned the place was Galinda.

The blonde turned just in time to spot her, a bright, dazzling smile lighting up her face. “There you are!”

“Ms. Upland?” Elphaba blinked, her steps slowing. “What… what are you doing here?”

Galinda clasped her hands behind her back in a way that looked far too innocent to be genuine. “Well, it’s your day off, so…” She paused for a touch of drama. “I cleared my schedule and took a day off too.”

“You—what?” Elphaba stared, unsure whether to be impressed, concerned, or just very, very confused. “Is… is that even okay?”

Galinda’s smile grew smug, and she tilted her head. “Of course it’s okay. I am the boss, remember?”

Elphaba blinked, still trying to make sense of the scene in front of her. “If you needed anything, you could’ve just texted or called,” she said slowly.

Galinda shook her head, her smile as bright as the morning sun. “Nope. We are not going to work today.”

That explained why her phone had been suspiciously silent since she’d woken up.

“I told you,” Galinda added with an airy shrug, “I want to get to know you better. So… what would you like to do?”

Elphaba hesitated. She opened her mouth, then closed it again, her mind suddenly blank. What did she like to do? All she ever seemed to do was work. Work was safe. Predictable. It didn’t require this kind of… spontaneity.

She didn’t know that for Galinda, the “getting to know you better” was only partly true. Yes, she wanted to learn more about Elphaba—but more than that, it was an excuse. A reason to spend the day with her, to just be near her, and to let the hours stretch lazily between them without the usual walls of schedules and responsibilities.

Galinda tilted her head, watching her struggle. “You’re thinking too hard,” she said lightly. “Which means I’m deciding.”

“Deciding what?” Elphaba asked warily.

“Our day.” Galinda’s eyes sparkled with something mischievous. “If you can’t tell me what you want to do, then you’ll just have to trust me. And I promise, no spreadsheets are involved.”

Elphaba let out a small sigh, glancing at her own casual, almost drab clothes compared to Galinda’s immaculate outfit. “Fine. But if we’re doing this, I’m changing—so I don’t look like your underdressed assistant in public.”

Galinda’s smile grew impossibly brighter. She followed Elphaba into the building without hesitation, her heels clicking against the stairwell’s worn steps.

“Welcome to my humble apartment,” Elphaba said dryly as she unlocked the door, pushing it open. “Apologies—it’s, uh… a bit messy.”

It wasn’t terrible, but Elphaba still winced at the stack of unopened mail on the coffee table and the stray sweater draped over the back of the sofa. She immediately set about straightening things—stacking papers, tossing the sweater into the bedroom doorway, and sweeping a few rogue pens into a mug.

Galinda stepped inside and took a slow, curious look around. Her gaze lingered on the neatly stocked bookshelf, the half-drunk cup of coffee abandoned on the counter, the faint scent of cedar from the plant in the corner.

As she wandered closer to the bookshelf, something caught her eye: a framed photograph tucked between a few books. She picked it up and smiled, her eyes lighting up. “Is this your sister?” she asked, holding up a picture of a fifteen-year-old Elphaba with a cheerful little girl of around ten.

Elphaba bent to scoop up the shirt she’d left on the desk chair, stuffing it into the laundry basket, and a small smile tugged at her lips. “Yes… that’s Nessa,” she said softly. “I… I kinda miss those days, when we were always together.”

Galinda smiled warmly, glancing back at the photograph before setting it gently down. As she did, a flicker of thought crossed her mind—her own younger sister. The memories weren’t as warm; they were messy, tangled, things she didn’t really want to remember. Then her eyes lingered on the photo again, and she couldn’t help but think, Elphaba and Nessa looked so cute together… they must really have cared about each other.

Shaking it off, she wandered toward the window, peeking out at the city street below as though she’d never seen it from this angle. “It’s… cozy,” she said over her shoulder.

“Cozy is a polite way of saying small,” Elphaba replied, disappearing into her bedroom.

“That too,” Galinda teased.

Elphaba shut the door halfway and rummaged through her wardrobe, pulling out something that felt a little less like “assistant running errands” and more like “person who occasionally exists outside the office.” She could hear Galinda moving in the other room, her light footsteps accompanied by the faint rustle of papers—no doubt snooping through her bookshelves.

“Don’t touch anything on my desk,” Elphaba called.

“Too late,” came Galinda’s sing-song reply.

Elphaba rolled her eyes and changed quickly, telling herself she didn’t care if Galinda was poking around.

When she stepped out again, dressed in a dark green blouse and fitted black pants, she found Galinda standing by her desk—holding something that had been tucked just behind it.

It was a tall, wide-brimmed, jet-black hat—the kind that could cast her whole face in shadow if she tilted her head just so. The brim was slightly uneven from wear, curving faintly at the edges as though it had caught more than one gust of wind. The crown tapered elegantly to a point, though not in a perfect cone—there was a subtle bend to it, natural in its shape. Up close, it was clear the hat was smaller than most, the sort that would have fit a child’s head.

Galinda turned the hat slowly in her hands, her smile fading just a fraction. Her gaze softened in a way Elphaba had rarely seen, as though some distant memory had just brushed against her thoughts. She didn’t speak, didn’t explain—just held it for a moment longer than she needed to, as if weighing whether to say something.

“Where did you get this?” she asked at last, her voice quieter now.

Elphaba stepped forward, taking it gently from her. “Someone gave it to me when I was a kid,” she said, a faint smile tugging at her mouth.

Galinda’s eyes lingered on her, studying her face. But whatever thought had come to her, she kept it locked behind a practiced smile.

“You okay?” Elphaba asked.

“Of course,” Galinda replied lightly, setting her hands behind her back. “Just… didn’t expect you to own something like that.”

Elphaba raised an eyebrow but didn’t press, returning the hat to its place before Galinda’s gaze followed her again.

“Much better,” Galinda said at last, looking her over. “Now you look like someone I could spend a day with… instead of someone who’s about to hand me quarterly reports.”

Elphaba crossed her arms. “Glad to meet your impossibly high standards.”

Galinda’s eyes glittered, but in her mind, it didn’t matter what Elphaba was wearing. All that mattered was that she was here, by her side. The usual precision of her standards—the careful attention to detail she applied to everything—mattered far less than simply being near Elphaba. Her outfit, her hair, none of it mattered. This… this would do.

She let out a soft chuckle at Elphaba’s remark, shaking her head slightly. Then, with a bright, decisive smile, she said, “Let’s go.”

The drive was short, but the destination made Elphaba’s stomach drop. Galinda had pulled up in front of a boutique so polished it looked like it belonged in a fashion magazine—tall glass windows, gilded lettering, and mannequins wearing dresses that probably cost more than her monthly rent.

Inside, the air smelled faintly of roses and expensive leather. A sales associate in an immaculately tailored suit greeted Galinda by name, which was Elphaba’s first warning sign.

Her second came when she casually glanced at a price tag.

Her jaw went slack. “This is… this is—” She turned to Galinda, eyes wide in disbelief. “Do people actually pay this much for fabric?”

Galinda, already running her fingers over a rack of silk blouses, didn’t even blink. “People like me do.” She tossed Elphaba a bright smile over her shoulder. “Now stop gawking and find something you like. Anything. I’ll handle the rest.”

“Handle the—Ms. Upland, this is highway robbery,” Elphaba hissed, pointing discreetly at another price tag that made her eyes water.

Galinda barely glanced at the number, utterly unbothered. “Mm, yes, but it’s luxurious robbery. That’s different.” She plucked a flowing cream blouse from the rack and held it up to Elphaba’s chest, tilting her head in consideration. “This would look amazing on you.”

“I’d rather not sell a kidney for a shirt,” Elphaba muttered, trying to step away.

“Oh, don’t be dramatic,” Galinda said with a breezy wave of her hand. “I told you—I’ll handle it. You just try things on, and if you like it, we’re taking it.”

Elphaba eyed her suspiciously. “And what exactly counts as ‘handling it’? Because I’m not signing anything.”

“It means, that for once in your life, you’re going to let someone spoil you without overthinking it.” Galinda replied, already piling more clothes into Elphaba’s arms. 

“And you’re going to look incredible,” she added, guiding Elphaba toward the fitting rooms.

Elphaba opened her mouth to argue, but the determined sparkle in Galinda’s eyes made her sigh.

By the time they reached the fitting rooms, Galinda had piled so many clothes into Elphaba’s arms that she could barely see over them.

“Ms. Upland, I am not taking all of this,” Elphaba said, trying to push a few hangers back into her hands. “I’ll pick a few, that’s it. You really don’t have to do this.”

Galinda just beamed at her, completely unbothered. “I know,” she said sweetly. “That’s what makes me so nice.”

Elphaba stared at her for a long moment, torn between heading home or just letting Galinda have her way.

Galinda ushered her toward the stall. “Come on—try them all. We’ll narrow it down later.”

Elphaba sighed, stepping into the fitting room and hanging the mountain of clothes on the hook. “This is ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously fun,” Galinda corrected, already waiting just outside to give commentary.

By the time Elphaba emerged from the fitting room for the last time, she had a neat little pile of three carefully chosen outfits in her arms.

“That’s it,” she said firmly, handing the rest back to the attendant before Galinda could protest. “I’m not abusing your kindness today.”

Galinda placed her hands on her hips, huffing in mock outrage. “You had a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and you wasted it.”

Elphaba tilted her head, suspicion flickering across her face. “Wait… is this about me quitting again? Because my answer would still be the same.”

Galinda shook her head quickly, cutting her off. “No! Not at all. I just… I want to spend time with you.”

Elphaba’s heart skipped a beat. She blinked, confused. Spend time with me? Without anything about work? That didn’t happen. Ever.

What she didn’t notice, however, was that Galinda’s own heart was racing too, a little faster than usual. Stay calm, stay composed, she reminded herself, though every step toward the register made her pulse thrum a little louder. She had no plan for this day—no script—but somehow the idea of being with Elphaba, just them, felt thrilling.

Galinda gestured toward the register with a playful lift of her chin. “Come on,” she said, her tone light but insistent. Focus, don’t trip over your words… or your feet, she thought.

Elphaba followed, her small smile tugging at her lips as she tucked the outfits closer to her chest. She had no idea that the woman beside her was just as unsettled, just as eager, every heartbeat echoing the same flutter she felt.

Galinda’s thoughts wandered mischievously. Let her think I’m calm. Let her wonder what I’m planning. Just enjoy this. And for once, she didn’t care about the neatness of her plans, the precision of her schedule, or the flawless execution of her day. All she wanted was to be with Elphaba.

The cashier’s voice pulled them back to reality, and Galinda gestured for Elphaba to hand over the pile. “After you,” she said, but her mind was already racing ahead, imagining the rest of the day—the laughter, the quiet moments, the simple joy of just being near her.

Elphaba handed over the clothes, and Galinda swiped her card to pay, the small transaction feeling almost like a formality to her. 

“Ready?” she asked, smiling as she held the door open.

Elphaba nodded, and together they stepped out into the sunlight. The bustle of the street greeted them, but it felt almost distant, as if the rest of the city had melted away.

Galinda’s pulse thrummed with a mixture of nerves and excitement. She glanced at Elphaba, who was walking just a step behind. They took the first step down the sidewalk toward their next stop, the day stretching ahead full of possibility.

After leaving the store, they stopped for lunch at a place Elphaba quickly realized was far fancier than anywhere she’d ever eaten. The kind of place where the cutlery gleamed, the waiters glided instead of walked, and the menu didn’t bother listing prices—a fact that made her suspicious from the start.

Galinda, of course, acted like she dined there every Tuesday. She ordered without hesitation, making suggestions for Elphaba with a confidence that left no room for argument. By the time dessert arrived, Elphaba had to admit—even if only to herself—that the food was incredible.

After lunch, Galinda whisked her off to their next destination: the Gillikin Museum of Art. The moment they stepped through the tall glass doors, Elphaba noticed something odd.

“Where is everyone?” she asked, glancing around the vast, echoing lobby.

Galinda’s expression turned smug, the corners of her mouth curling upward. “Oh, I reserved the place. Just for us.” She gave a little toss of her perfectly styled hair, her face practically glowing with pride, like she’d just announced she’d bought the moon.

“You what?” Elphaba blinked at her.

“Of course I did,” Galinda said, leaning back slightly with a self-satisfied tilt of her head. “I mean… I know how awesome I am, so naturally, I figured the art deserved my attention.”

What she didn’t say—what she wouldn’t dare say aloud—was that she wanted Elphaba to herself, without the distraction of others.

Elphaba’s eyebrows rose, half in disbelief, half in exasperation, though the tiniest smile threatened to appear.

They wandered the museum for hours, the empty halls amplifying the sound of their voices as they lingered in front of paintings and sculptures. Sometimes Galinda chattered on, telling Elphaba facts about the art; other times they were quiet, simply walking side by side.

By the time the sun began to set, Galinda announced their final stop. She led Elphaba to a restaurant perched high above the city, its terrace overlooking the glittering skyline. Warm light spilled from the windows, the soft hum of music drifting out to meet them.

Elphaba paused at the view, momentarily forgetting to breathe. As the city lights began to flicker to life, she leaned against the railing, her eyes reflecting the golds and blues of the horizon. “It’s beautiful,” she murmured, almost to herself.

Galinda, standing just beside her, didn’t look at the skyline at all. She only watched Elphaba, her lips curving into an unconscious smile. Yes, she thought, it is.

Dinner was warm and easy, the kind of conversation that drifted from harmless banter to quiet, personal confessions without either of them realizing the shift. They spoke about favorite books, favorite colors, the little quirks of their daily lives—nothing earth-shattering, yet each word felt like another thread tying them closer together.

Elphaba admitted she reread the same novels over and over, clinging to familiar pages the way others might cling to photographs. Galinda teased her for it, but her smile was fond, her eyes lingering a little too long on Elphaba’s face. In turn, Galinda confessed she rarely finished books unless someone else was reading them too—she liked the feeling of sharing the story, even if it meant pretending to enjoy the dull parts.

They laughed about strange habits—Elphaba’s meticulous order with her spice rack, Galinda’s tendency to hum in elevators when she was nervous. The laughter faded into a gentler rhythm when Elphaba mentioned Nessa, her voice slipping lower as she admitted how much she missed her sister. For a moment, Galinda didn’t answer; she only reached across the table, brushing her fingers lightly against Elphaba’s wrist.

But the instant she felt the warmth of Elphaba’s skin beneath her fingertips, Galinda’s heart gave a startled jolt, beating far too quickly for something so small. She withdrew her hand, smile carefully composed, though the echo of that fleeting contact lingered in her chest.

Elphaba, meanwhile, sat frozen for a second longer than she should have, shocked by the unexpected touch. Her own pulse had stumbled into a quicker rhythm, thudding in her ears as if betraying her calm facade. She lowered her gaze to her plate, but the warmth where Galinda’s fingers had brushed against her wrist refused to fade.

Then, Galinda spoke about her own sister, her tone carried an uncharacteristic weight, a shadow that passed quickly but not unnoticed. Elphaba almost asked, but the words caught in her throat—the look in Galinda’s eyes was fragile, like glass in candlelight.

Their talk continued—none of it extraordinary: favorite colors, family stories, little quirks—but the spaces between the words were charged, threaded with something neither of them dared name. Every glance lingered too long, every smile tugged at something deeper. By the time dessert was finished, the air between them felt alive, humming, as though the city outside had vanished and the world had narrowed to just the two of them at that table.

When the plates were cleared and the night outside had deepened, Galinda drove Elphaba back to her apartment. The car hummed softly as the city lights swept past, until finally, they pulled up to the familiar curb. Both stepped out, the cool evening air brushing against them as they faced each other.

“I hope you enjoyed today,” Galinda said, her voice bright, though her eyes lingered on Elphaba as if searching for something.

“Elphie.” She paused, then quickly asked, “Can I call you Elphie?”

Before Elphaba could answer, Galinda had already reached forward, unconsciously taking Elphaba’s free hand in both of hers—the other still occupied with the paper bags from their shopping earlier.

Elphaba blinked at her, brows knitting. “Well… it’s a little bit perky.”

“I know,” Galinda replied with a satisfied little smile, “and I’m going to call you that.” She tilted her head as if considering something. “And you can call me… Galinda.”

Elphaba blinked, caught off guard. “I—no, that wouldn’t be appropriate, you’re my—”

“Let’s not quarrel,” Galinda interrupted smoothly, a playful lilt in her voice.

That earned her a small laugh from Elphaba, the sound warm in the night air. It was then they both seemed to realize they were still holding each other’s hands. Almost at the same time, they let go, glancing away, neither quite able to meet the other’s eyes. Their hearts beat faster, the silence between them suddenly charged.

“You… you should rest,” Galinda said softly.

“You too,” Elphaba replied, her voice gentler than she intended. “I really enjoyed my day off… thank you, Ms. Upl—… G-Galinda.”

Galinda’s lips curved into a smile at the sound of her name, softer and more genuine than she meant to let slip.

Elphaba lingered for a moment, looking at her one last time with a smile that stayed longer than it should have—long enough for Galinda to notice, long enough for her own lips to curve in response. Finally, Elphaba slipped inside, the door closing behind her.

On opposite sides of the door, both of their hearts still raced. Neither could fight the smiles pulling at their lips.

What is this feeling? Elphaba wondered, her mind almost whispering it to itself.

Fervid as a flame…

Does it have a name?

Chapter Text

On one side of the apartment door, Elphaba leaned against it, arms loosely folded, as if holding in the warmth of the day before it could slip away. Her pulse still drummed in her ears, stubbornly refusing to settle. She closed her eyes and, against her better judgment, let herself replay the way Galinda’s hands had felt—warm, certain, as if they belonged there.

The thought lodged deeper than she wanted it to, unsettling in its simplicity.

What is this feeling?

In the car parked at the curb, Galinda sat with her hands still resting lightly on the steering wheel, though she hadn’t yet started the engine. Her reflection in the rearview mirror showed a smile, one that deepened when she thought of Elphaba’s laugh—rare, genuine, like something hard-won. She tilted her head back against the seat, still tasting the soft cadence of “thank you, Galinda” in her mind.

Elphaba who stood in the quiet of her own heartbeat, pressed to the door. Whatever this was, it was already taking root.

And whether she liked it or not, a new chapter had begun.

Galinda floated into the Upper Uplands building the next morning as if she owned not just the company, but the sunlight spilling through the glass walls. Her heels clicked with a kind of musical precision, and for once, she didn’t breeze past the employees with her usual brisk nod—she actually greeted them. By name. With a smile.

Those who passed her in the hallway exchanged curious glances. Whispers followed in her wake.

“She’s in a good mood,” one murmured.

“A really good mood,” another agreed.

Boq, carrying a stack of files, nearly tripped as he watched her pass. “She’s even more… shining today,” he said, grinning dreamily at Galinda’s retreating figure.

When she reached Elphaba’s desk, Galinda leaned slightly against the edge, a brightness in her eyes that was impossible to miss.

“Good morning, Elphie,” she said, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Elphaba’s head came up, caught between surprise and… something else. “Good morning, Gal—” She stopped herself, glancing around at the nearby ears. “…Ms. Upland,” she finished, the shift in tone subtle but careful.

“Hope you rested well,” Galinda added warmly.

“Yes, I did,” Elphaba replied, the smile still tugging at her mouth—and Galinda’s own lips mirrored it, neither of them seeming able to stop.

“I should go,” Galinda said at last, gesturing lightly toward her office door.

“Yeah,” Elphaba nodded, though something in her eyes suggested she wouldn’t have minded if Galinda stayed.

Galinda hesitated, torn between slipping into her office to tackle the day’s work and lingering right here, in the warm little orbit they seemed to create when they were close.

For a heartbeat too long, they simply stood there, smiling at each other. Finally, Galinda tore herself away, the smile still fixed in place as she turned and disappeared into her office.

It didn’t fade even after the door clicked shut.

Galinda had been in a flawless mood all morning, her smile lingering as she made her way down the hall toward her office. She was halfway past a pair of chatting employees when a snippet of conversation stopped her in her tracks.

“…and then Fiyero tried to get her number,” one voice said, half-laughing.

Galinda turned sharply. “What?”

The two employees froze mid-sentence, looking like they’d just been caught breaking company policy. “Oh—uh, Ms. Upland, we were just—”

“I heard you,” Galinda said, stepping closer, her voice calm but edged with a quiet demand. “Did Elphaba give it to him?”

The employees exchanged an uneasy glance. “We think… no. She didn’t,” one said quickly. “Honestly, we couldn’t believe he even tried.”

Galinda exhaled, a flicker of relief softening her expression. “Good. Go back to work.”

“Yes, Ms. Upland,” they murmured, quickly dispersing.

Galinda lingered in the corridor for a moment, fingers absently brushing the hem of her blazer.

Why would Fiyero want Elphaba’s number?

The question lodged itself in her thoughts, stubborn and unwelcome.

She straightened, heels clicking softly as she continued down the hall when a familiar face caught her eyes. She slowed, then stopped altogether again. “Hey, you,” she called, fixing him with a look that made it clear she expected him to come over. She couldn’t quite remember his name—only that he was one of Elphaba’s few friends in the building.

Boq scrambled to his feet so fast he nearly tripped over his own chair. “Y-yes, Ms. Upland?” he stammered, voice wobbling with both nerves and surprise.

Taking a deep breath, he seized the rare chance to speak to her. His ID, hanging on a lanyard around his neck, bounced against his chest as he held it up nervously. “I-I’m Boq Woodsman… from Munchkinland,” he said, letting his ID dangle between them as if it could prove his worth. He straightened slightly, hoping that introducing himself properly might make him memorable to Galinda.

Galinda furrowed her brow and tilted her head. “Biq,” she said, as if testing the name on her tongue.

“Uh—It’s Biq–It’s Boq—”

“Yes, yes, that’s what I said,” she interrupted breezily, waving the correction aside. “You’re friends with Elphaba, right?”

Boq blinked, then nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good.” Galinda’s tone sharpened with intent. “So… tell me—has she ever mentioned something she’s always wanted to do? Something she’s never gotten around to? Or… anything she’s ever wanted?” The last part came out with a quiet insistence, as if the answer mattered far more than she was letting on.

Boq scratched the back of his neck. “I’ve never really heard her say she wanted something.” He looked up, as if searching his memory. “But… once she said she’s never been to Emerald City.”

Galinda’s face lit up, her lips curling into a bright, purposeful smile. “Perfect. Thank you, Biq.”

“Boq,” he muttered under his breath, but she was already turning away.

“You’re welcome, Ms. Upland!” he called after her, waving with a small grin. She didn’t look back, but her heels clicked with quick, determined strides, as though she already had a plan forming.

As the day went on, Galinda and Elphaba settled into their usual rhythm of work. Every so often, Elphaba would glance through the tall glass window into the CEO’s office, catching sight of Galinda bent over her desk, blonde curls spilling forward as she worked. It brought an unbidden smile to her face—small, fleeting, but there all the same.

What she didn’t know was that Galinda did the same. More than once, her pen stilled as her eyes drifted toward the outer office. The sight of Elphaba there—focused, unaware—had a way of softening her mood. But the second Elphaba’s head began to turn, Galinda would flick her gaze back to her screen, feigning intense concentration.

It was during one of these stolen glances that Galinda’s chest tightened. Fiyero was standing beside Elphaba’s desk, leaning on the counter with that insufferable, easy grin. Elphaba smiled—just a little—but it was enough to send a sharp, unwelcome prickle of heat through Galinda.

Why is she smiling at him? And what could they possibly be talking about? Her pen tapped impatiently against her desk. She didn’t like the twist in her stomach.

Before she could think better of it, Galinda was already striding across the floor. She pushed open the office door.

“Hi, Galinda,” Fiyero greeted, clearly caught off guard.

Galinda didn’t bother returning the smile. She caught his wrist—not roughly, but firmly enough to make him stumble toward her office. “We have some work to do,” she said, in a tone that left no room for argument.

Fiyero glanced over his shoulder at Elphaba. “Bye—maybe talk to you later?”

“No, you’re not talking to her,” Galinda muttered, her words muffled as the door clicked shut behind them.

Elphaba blinked at the closed door, brow furrowing. Her mind drifted, unbidden, to the rumors she’d overheard from her coworkers: that Galinda and Fiyero had been… something, once.

The thought sat unpleasantly in her chest.

She shook her head, almost violently, as if to fling it away, and returned to her work—though her typing was a shade harder than before.

Galinda all but shoved Fiyero toward the sofa in her office, the plush cushions doing little to soften the intent behind her push. She took the opposite seat, crossing her legs sharply, gaze fixed on him like she was lining him up in her sights.

Fiyero tilted his head, slow grin spreading. “Didn’t know you missed me so much you had to drag me in here. Should I be flattered?”

“Shut up,” Galinda said, each word clipped. She reached for the tea set on the side table, the porcelain rattling faintly as she poured.

“Touchy,” he drawled, leaning back like he had all the time in the world.

“I heard you tried to get Elphaba’s number.”

His smile didn’t falter. “Yeah. That’s true.”

Galinda’s hand stilled, teacup halfway to her lips. “…Why?”

“Because I’m interested,” he said lightly. “I like her.”

She took a sip—and instantly regretted it. The tea caught in her throat, making her cough into her fist.

“W-What?” she managed hoarsely.

“You okay?” he asked, amusement plain in his voice.

“No.” setting the cup down with a snap. Then, she straightened. “And—no. Leave Elphi—Elphaba—alone.”

One brow arched. “Why?”

“You don’t need to know why.”

He studied her for a long moment, and then his grin sharpened, dangerous in its knowingness. “You know, I could just get her number from you… but I like the chase. And something tells me this one’s worth it.”

“Fiyero—”

“What?” He leaned forward now, elbows braced on his knees. “We’ve been over for a long time, Galinda. We said we’re just friends. Unless…” His eyes flicked to hers, deliberately testing. “…you’re jealous?”

Her head whipped toward him, eyes flashing. “No. You’ve completely misunderstood me.”

“I don’t think I have,” he said, smile widening just enough to make it a taunt.

She held his gaze, but her chest felt tight. She was jealous—just not in the way he thought. It wasn’t that she wanted Fiyero for herself—those days were long gone, and with him, she had never felt this way. She just didn’t want him anywhere near Elphaba. Not when she had only just discovered how much she liked her.

“Don’t you dare,” she warned, eyes blazing as she glared at him, her voice low and sharp. “Leave Elphaba alone.”

He leaned back again, stretching out on the sofa like he owned the place. “Can’t do that.”

She rolled her eyes, annoyed at his answer, but didn’t respond. Instead, she lifted her cup of tea again, taking a slow, deliberate sip.

Elphaba was buried in her work, eyes fixed on the neat lines of text scrolling across her screen, when a ripple of voices drifted from the far side of the outer office. She hadn’t meant to listen, but the words “Ms. Upland” and “Fiyero” were hard to ignore.

“They’re just… perfect together,” one of the employees gushed.

“I know, right? Wouldn’t be surprised if they ended up together,” another chimed in, her voice tinged with excitement. “Did you see them talking to those investors after the meeting last week? The way they were looking at each other?”

Elphaba’s fingers paused above the keyboard. The tightness in her chest was immediate, unwelcome. Her mind replayed the image from that morning—Galinda striding out of her office, taking Fiyero by the wrist like she’d done it a hundred times before, pulling him away without a second thought.

She swallowed and, for a moment, silently agreed with the gossip. They were perfect together. Perfect in the kind of way she could never be.

Her eyes dropped back to her work, but the thought lingered like a shadow: how far she really was from either of them.

How far she really was from Galinda.

Then, the murmurs shifted suddenly, the tone snapping from idle chatter to hushed urgency. “The Chairman—he’s coming!” one whispered sharply. Employees scurried, straightening papers, adjusting chairs, and double-checking screens.

The Chairman—Highmuster Arduenna Upland, Galinda’s father—came unannounced.

Elphaba had seen the Chairman a few times before. He looked strict, unyielding, and she couldn’t help but feel a flicker of tension watching the office spring into frantic motion.

The Chairman was accompanied by one of his assistants.

When Elphaba saw him, she straightened her clothes and rose immediately, smoothing her sleeves and standing as tall as she could. She offered a polite, measured greeting.

Highmuster’s sharp eyes softened for a moment, and he allowed himself a small, approving smile. He knew Elphaba had been working closely with Galinda, helping his daughter navigate the office—and that quiet acknowledgment carried more weight than words.

With that, Highmuster nodded politely to Elphaba and turned. He entered the door to Galinda’s office, the click of the door echoing lightly as he stepped inside.

Galinda and Fiyero were still on the sofa, discussing work, when the door opened.

“Oh, you’re here, Fiyero,” a familiar voice said.

Fiyero turned, smiling warmly. Galinda didn’t need to look to know who it was—she knew that voice very well. Her father.

She tensed slightly but remained seated.

“It’s good to see you,” Highmuster said, his tone polite but carrying his usual authority.

Fiyero returned the greeting with a bright smile, stepping forward to hug Highmuster briefly.

Once pleasantries were exchanged, they all settled back on the sofa. Highmuster took a seat across from Galinda, while Fiyero sat beside her, close enough that Galinda could feel the subtle warmth of his presence. His assistant lingered nearby, observing attentively but quietly.

Highmuster leaned back slightly and looked at Galinda as he said, “I just came by to see how my daughter is doing.”

When Highmuster’s sharp eyes landed on her, she felt the same prickle she had as a child when he inspected her posture at the dinner table, or her grades, or the way she spoke in public.

Galinda inhaled and looked back, straightened her posture before answering plainly, “Everything is fine.” Her tone was measured, controlled—but the words didn’t hint at any warmth. She wasn’t really close with her father; the distance between them had always been there, an invisible wall built over years of formality and unspoken expectations.

Fiyero spoke up, still smiling, though he noticed the subtle tension in Galinda. “We’re just working on some projects for the company,” he said lightly, trying to keep the mood easy.

Highmuster nodded, allowing a small, approving smile. “I can see that. Thank you for helping my daughter,” he said to Fiyero, his tone genuine but carrying that unmistakable authority.

Galinda remained silent, her eyes briefly flicking toward her father before settling elsewhere. She rarely saw him, even though he was her father. That wall—built from childhood strictness and unspoken rules—had never truly come down.

Their conversation continued. Highmuster turned to Galinda and said, “Your sister is going home soon. You two should try to get along.”

Galinda’s hands clenched in her lap at the remark, a flicker of tension crossing her composed exterior.

At that moment, Elphaba entered the room, carrying a stack of papers for work. She approached Galinda, excusing herself politely, but her eyes immediately caught Galinda’s tight, tense posture.

Once she handed the papers to Galinda, Highmuster looked at Elphaba and asked, “Would it be alright if you brought me some hot tea? The tea here is quite cold.”

Elphaba nodded and reached for the tea set on the table. “Of course,” she replied, and Highmuster offered a polite thanks.

She left the room briefly to fetch the hot tea.

When Elphaba returned, balancing the tray of tea in her hands, she caught Highmuster’s voice mid-sentence.

“Why don’t you marry Fiyero, Galinda? It would be good for you—and for the company you’ll inherit someday.”

Elphaba froze for a fraction of a second, the words stinging sharper than she expected. She forced herself to continue forward, carefully setting the tea on the table as though she hadn’t heard.

Galinda stayed silent, her body rigid, tension radiating from every line of her posture.

Fiyero cleared his throat, his voice breaking the strained quiet. “I’m sorry, sir, but I… already have someone in mind.” His gaze shifted, deliberately landing on Elphaba.

Elphaba looked back at him, startled, her breath catching, before he went on. “I like her.”

Galinda’s eyes snapped to him, catching the unspoken confession with sharp clarity. Her glare at Fiyero was immediate, fierce—but then, her gaze shifted to Elphaba. The steel in her expression softened, eyes dark with something quieter, almost pleading—as if begging Elphaba to see only her, not him.

Highmuster exhaled, disappointment flickering in his expression. “Unfortunate,” he said simply.

Elphaba bowed her head politely, her voice low. “Excuse me.” She gathered herself and left the room, the air behind her still heavy with tension.

Elphaba left the building with her thoughts in disarray. The air did little to cool the unease that had settled in her chest. Highmuster’s words replayed over and over—Galinda and Fiyero, marriage, inheritance. The perfect picture of a future that had no place for her. She tried to push it away, bury herself in reason, but the image clung stubbornly, gnawing at her.

She tightened her coat around herself as she walked, her steps slow, distracted. She barely noticed how far she’d gone until movement ahead made her stop short.

Parked just at the curb was the familiar sleek car, polished to a mirror’s shine. And standing beside it, straight-backed and patient as always, was Chistery—Galinda’s driver.

Elphaba blinked, taken aback. “Chistery?” she asked, her voice uncertain.

He dipped his head respectfully. “Ms. Elphaba. I was told to wait for you.”

Chistery stepped forward and pulled the car door open with his usual quiet efficiency. “Ms. Galinda have some work to finish,” he explained evenly, “and she asked me to drive you home.”

Elphaba hesitated at the curb, her hand tightening faintly around the strap of her bag. Something inside her twisted—disappointment? It was ridiculous, she knew. Galinda was busy, Galinda was always busy. And yet… some part of her had wanted, maybe even expected, that Galinda would be the one waiting here. That she’d drive her home herself.

She forced the thought down, smoothing her expression as she slid into the car.

The drive was silent, the city lights sliding past the window in muted streaks. Elphaba leaned against the cool glass, her thoughts looping back to the office.

Every word pressed against her ribs until her chest felt too tight, as though her heart had no room left inside her.

When the car stopped, she murmured a quiet thanks to Chistery and slipped out, the night air cool against her skin. Inside her apartment, the familiar stillness wrapped around her, but it brought no comfort. The murmurs of the employees, Highmuster’s steady voice, Galinda’s silence—each returned, unbidden, weaving themselves into the quiet like ghosts she couldn’t shake.

She set her bag down, but her hands lingered on the strap, unmoving. No matter how she tried to push the thoughts away, one truth remained, sharp and undeniable.

How far she really was from Galinda.

Chapter Text

The office had settled into a quiet rhythm, but the undercurrent of something new hummed just beneath the surface. Elphaba’s resignation had been filed, yet somehow the space she was meant to vacate remained hers, untouched. The secretary position lingered, unfilled, as though the universe—or perhaps Galinda herself—couldn’t bring herself to make it permanent.

Galinda floated through the office with her usual polish, but now there was a softness to her presence, a deliberate attention in her steps whenever she passed Elphaba’s desk. Small smiles, casual questions about lunch or weekend plans, brief calls to the office for errands that had nothing to do with urgent work—all of it felt intentional, like she was carving out little excuses to linger.

Elphaba had spent years bracing herself for these interruptions, usually meeting them with exasperated sighs. Not anymore. Now, when Galinda appeared at her side, she found herself smiling instead of groaning, letting the paper clips sit unorganized just a moment longer so she could talk, really talk, without the usual edge of obligation pressing down.

A subtle shift, quiet but undeniable. The work was still there, the office still busy, but the way the world felt had changed. And for the first time in a long time, Elphaba didn’t mind at all.

It was afternoon when the intercom buzzed again, cutting through the hum of keyboards and quiet conversations. Galinda’s voice—bright, casual, entirely deliberate—called for Elphaba. For who knew how many times that day, perhaps it was another excuse to keep her close.

Elphaba made her way to the CEO’s office, feeling that familiar tug at her chest she could no longer deny. She caught herself smiling before she even reached the door, smoothing her blouse without much thought.

Galinda was sitting at her desk, papers scattered in a haphazard but purposeful way. Her face brightened the instant she saw Elphaba enter.

“I need your opinion on something,” she said, voice casual but tinged with eagerness. “Which of these designs do you think is best to send to the clients?”

Elphaba stepped closer, moving beside Galinda’s chair and leaning over the desk to examine the papers. She pointed, explained, gave her thoughts on each design with her usual clarity and quiet confidence.

Galinda listened at first, nodding, her attention on the sketches and Elphaba’s careful words. But slowly, the designs and words blurred and faded, her attention sharpened entirely on Elphaba—the tilt of her head, the way her hair fell, the quiet focus in her eyes.

She rested her chin on her palm, completely caught, all she could see was Elphaba this close to her. A small, soft smile tugged at her lips, impossible to hide.

Elphaba turned to Galinda as she finished her last words of opinion, but then froze. Galinda’s face was impossibly close, eyes locked on hers, the distance between them so small they could feel each other’s breath, catch the faint trace of perfume lingering in the air.

Time seemed to slow, stretching out each heartbeat, each subtle shift of weight, each blink. Their hearts thumped in tandem, loud and undeniable, filling the quiet office with an unspoken rhythm all their own.

Neither spoke. Neither moved. And yet, the closeness was more than physical—it was something heavier, warmer, impossible to ignore.

After a moment of staring at each other, Galinda cleared her throat. Elphaba straightened, though she still didn’t quite know what to do with herself. Galinda’s eyes flicked nervously toward the papers on the desk, and she asked, slightly stuttering, “W-what… what were you saying?”

Elphaba pointed to the design in question. “I think this one has the best layout,” she said, her voice steady despite the flutter in her chest.

Galinda nodded slowly. Then, she thanked Elphaba, her voice warm, and added that she could leave now. Elphaba started toward the door, but then Galinda called her again.

Elphaba stopped, turning back with a curious glance.

“By the way,” Galinda said, her tone softening, “thank you… for coming with me during your day off.”

Elphaba’s lips curved into a small, genuine smile. “I… I really enjoyed it.”

Galinda’s smile mirrored hers, a quiet sparkle in her eyes. “Maybe… we could do it again sometime. And this time, you get to decide what we do.”

Elphaba, still smiling, nodded. “Sure.”

She started walking again, but then Galinda called her once more. Elphaba turned back, smiling again at her.

“My remaining work today isn’t here in the office,” Galinda said, her tone casual but warm. “I’ve got a quick meeting with the board, so… you can leave early. There’s nothing that needs your attention.”

Elphaba nodded, a small lift to her lips. “Alright. Thank you.” She turned to leave again, her smile lingering like a soft echo, and Galinda was left alone in the office. She sat frozen for a moment, heart hammering like a marching band gone rogue.

“Oh, calm down, Galinda. Calm down,” she muttered, tapping her fist to her chest repeatedly, like she could physically convince her heart to behave.

She leaned back into her chair, her chest was still doing somersaults. She groaned. “Note to self: do not let Elphaba get this close ever again… or maybe… do. Definitely maybe…”

Galinda was at her desk, typing briskly, papers and drafts spread around her in neat stacks. The soft rhythm of the keys was broken when the office door opened.

Her face lit up instinctively, expecting someone else—someone she wouldn’t mind seeing—but the brightness vanished just as quickly when she saw who it was. Larena Upland, her mother, stepped inside with her usual air of control, not waiting for an invitation. She suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. Instead, she straightened slightly and returned to her screen.

Larena moved with purpose toward the sofa and sat down, her expression composed but firm. “Galinda, let’s talk.”

“I’m busy,” Galinda replied evenly, not looking away from her work.

“Galinda,” her mother repeated, her tone sharpening just enough to make it clear this wasn’t a suggestion. Her gaze pinned her daughter with that familiar look—authoritative, expectant, leaving little room for refusal.

Galinda let out a long sigh, pushed back from her desk, and walked over to the sofa. She sat across from her mother, posture taut, eyes sharp. “What is it? And make it quick.”

At that, Larena’s face softened into a rare smile. “This weekend—we’re having a family dinner. Your sister is finally back. It’s so rare for us to be complete.”

Galinda’s expression didn’t change. “No. I’m busy.”

“Galinda,” Larena said, her voice lowering into something almost pleading. “Just this once. And… could you at least try to be nice to your sister?”

Galinda’s chest tightened as memories she’d rather forget pressed forward—betrayals. She couldn’t bring herself to even imagine being fine with her sister again.

“No,” she said firmly, her jaw setting. “I have too much work.”

Larena exhaled, the disappointment clear in her eyes as her smile slipped into something sadder.

A flicker of guilt tugged at Galinda, but she forced it down, leaning back slightly. “Is that all you’re going to say? Because I need to get back to work.”

Larena stayed quiet, her disappointment lingering in the curve of her frown and the heaviness in her eyes. She didn’t move, didn’t speak, just sat there staring at her daughter as if waiting for her to change her mind.

Galinda, however, only stared back, her own face carefully unreadable. Finally, she broke the silence. “If you don’t have anything more to say, then you can leave.”

She stood without another glance and returned to her desk, the steady tap of her heels against the floor the only sound filling the room.

When Larena stepped out of the CEO’s office, the weight of Galinda’s rejection sat heavy on her shoulders. Her expression was faintly weary, but as she moved through the corridor, she caught sight of Elphaba at her desk. Their gazes met briefly, and both offered small, polite smiles in greeting.

Larena walked a few more steps, but then slowed… and stopped. Her eyes flicked back toward Elphaba, studying her for a moment. A thought sparked—an idea forming quickly, curling into a quiet smile at the corner of her lips.

Turning on her heel, Larena walked toward the desk with measured grace. “Ms. Elphaba,” she said warmly, her tone carrying that practiced elegance of someone used to being listened to.

Elphaba looked up from her work, curiosity flickering across her face. She straightened slightly in her chair and returned the smile.

Larena hesitated for just a second, adjusting the strap of her handbag before speaking, her voice carefully casual. “Yes, uh… I just spoke with Galinda. She told me she doesn’t want to attend our family dinner this weekend.”

Elphaba’s brows knit together, her curiosity piqued. She gave a small nod, silently encouraging Larena to go on.

Larena let out a soft sigh, then tilted her head, almost as if weighing how much to reveal. “She doesn’t want to come,” she repeated, before pausing—just long enough to make her next words deliberate. “But perhaps… you could convince her to join us?” Her smile warmed, though there was a hint of calculation behind it. “I know my daughter is quite fond of you, Ms. Elphaba. She might listen to you where she won’t listen to me.”

Elphaba blinked, taken aback, but managed a small, thoughtful smile. “Yes… I’ll try,” she said.

Larena clasped her hands together in delight, her face brightening with excitement. “Wonderful! Thank you so much.” She offered another gracious smile, then turned and walked away, her heels clicking lightly against the floor.

Left alone, Elphaba sat back slightly in her chair, curiosity swirling in her chest. Fond of her? The word lingered, leaving her with more questions than answers.

Elphaba walked through the office, her steps light as she headed back toward her desk. Her mind was still replaying the day—Galinda’s office, the closeness, the quick smiles exchanged. She tried to shake it off, letting herself focus on the simple rhythm of her walk.

As she passed Boq’s desk, she heard him call out, “Hey, Elphaba!” She stopped walking and turned.

Boq got up from his chair, strolling over. “Avaric and the others are thinking of hitting a pub later after work. You in? Could be nice to take a breather.”

Elphaba blinked, considering it for a moment. She glanced toward her watch, noting that her shift was technically almost over and that Galinda had already mentioned she didn’t need to stay. Maybe a little evening break wouldn’t hurt. “Sure,” she said casually.

“Great,” Boq replied, grinning. “We’ll meet in the lobby after work. Should be fun.”

After finishing up her work, Elphaba packed her things and glanced toward Galinda’s office through the tall glass window. The office was empty—Galinda was likely already in her board meeting.

Shrugging lightly, Elphaba headed for the lobby, where Boq and the others were already waiting, chatting casually and waving her over.

Boq, Avaric, Pfannee, Crope, and Tibett were all gathered in the lobby, their chatter bubbling with excitement. It wasn’t often they got to see Elphaba in a relaxed mood—she was usually buried in work.

Pfannee practically bounced over to her, grinning. “Finally, I’m not the only girl in the group!”

Boq laughed, gesturing toward the street. “There’s a pub nearby. Let’s head there—it’ll be good to unwind.”

With that, the group started walking together, their laughter carrying lightly through the evening air as they made their way toward the pub. As they stepped out of the building, a voice called after them.

“Well, looks like you guys are having fun tonight.”

They turned to see Fiyero, his grin easy.

Pfannee squealed outright. “Oh my Oz, it’s Fiyero!” she whispered loudly, fanning herself in mock-dramatic fashion.

Fiyero chuckled and asked, “So, where are you all headed?” Eyes flicking briefly toward Elphaba before glancing at the rest.

“Just going to a pub,” Avaric answered casually.

“Sounds fun,” Fiyero said, leaning back slightly, his gaze returning to Elphaba for a beat before he added, “Mind if I tag along?”

The group exchanged a quick series of glances, a little unsure, but before anyone else could answer, Pfannee practically jumped forward. “Yes! Of course you can!” she said, her excitement clear.

Elphaba and the others, now with Fiyero tagging along, made their way through the streets until the warm glow of the pub came into view. Laughter and music spilled from the doorway, but when they stepped inside, the place was packed—every table taken, every corner buzzing with noise.

“Outside then?” Boq suggested, nodding toward the seats just beside the street.

They gathered around a long wooden table set beside the street. Lanterns hung overhead, casting a golden glow that mingled with the crisp evening air. The chill of the night wasn’t unwelcome—it kept the space calmer, more relaxed compared to the crowded interior.

Boq rubbed his hands together, grinning. “Perfect spot, right? Fresh air, no shouting over music.”

Pfannee plopped herself beside Elphaba with a little squeal, still giddy from earlier. “Finally, finally—you’re actually here with us! This is going down in history.”

Avaric laughed as he pulled out a chair. “Careful, Pfannee, you’ll scare her off before she even orders a drink.”

Elphaba let out the faintest laugh, one she didn’t bother to hide this time. It had been a while since she’d sat like this—among friends, with no rush of deadlines or piles of work waiting for her. The simple hum of chatter around her, the scrape of mugs being set down on other tables, and the fact that no one expected her to be anything other than herself—it was strangely… nice.

Fiyero slid in beside Elphaba without hesitation. “Cold or not… at least there’s a view,” he said with a crooked smile, his eyes flicking not-so-subtly toward Elphaba.

Elphaba glanced sideways at him, an unreadable flicker in her expression, before focusing on the menu someone had passed her.

The waiters came and went with trays balanced high, setting down clinking glasses and steaming plates. Soon the table was alive with color and scent—golden fries piled high, skewers of grilled meat, baskets of potatoes, mugs of beer frothing over the rim.

Conversation flowed as easily as the drinks. Boq laughed at Avaric and Tibett’s exaggerated story of a client disaster, while Pfannee leaned across Crope to steal a bite off his plate, earning a mock glare. The night carried a looseness, a freedom that rarely came during their office hours.

Fiyero, of course, had his focus narrowed entirely on Elphaba. He leaned in whenever he spoke to her, voice smooth, words hovering on that line between casual banter and unmistakable flirting. He asked her about her work, her thoughts on the food, even little things about her day, his grin never dimming.

Elphaba answered each time—polite, steady, and with the same dry wit that came so naturally to her. But her tone carried no spark of interest, no encouragement. She wasn’t cold exactly, just… indifferent. For her, it was conversation; for him, it was pursuit.

And still, the group’s laughter drowned it all, the night carrying on in warm, easy waves.

After the board meeting, Galinda finally slipped out of the building, exhaustion pulling faintly at her shoulders. The city night was alive—streetlights glowing, the hum of traffic, voices spilling out from open shopfronts.

As her car rolled down the main road, she caught sight of a pub, tables spilling onto the sidewalk. Her gaze swept over the crowd almost idly—until it snagged.

Elphaba.

There she was, unmistakable, sitting at a table with the others. Galinda’s breath caught before she even realized it.

“Chistery—stop!” she blurted, almost shouting, leaning forward from the back seat.

The car lurched slightly as Chistery pressed the brakes, startled by her sudden command. He turned to glance at her, brows furrowed. “What is it, Ms. Galinda?” Then, he pulled the car to the side of the road.

Galinda leaned, eyes narrowing as she scanned the group around Elphaba. She recognized the familiar faces—Boq, Pfannee, Avaric, the others from the office. That much made sense.

But then her gaze landed on Fiyero. Sitting right beside Elphaba.

Her stomach twisted, heat rising fast to her cheeks. “Why is Fiyero there?!” she demanded, her voice sharper than she intended.

Chistery blinked at her in confusion, then followed her line of sight through the window. When he spotted Fiyero leaning a little too comfortably toward Elphaba, realization dawned.

Galinda’s arms crossed tightly, her lips pressing into a pout as her gaze lingered on the table. Laughter rose from the group, Elphaba’s voice somewhere among it, and the sight tugged at something sharp in her chest.

“And they’re having fun without me,” she muttered, almost sulking. Jealousy prickled, the thought stinging more than she wanted to admit—Elphaba laughing, smiling, relaxed… with them. Not her.

She tore her eyes away and looked at Chistery, her voice dropping with an almost childlike urgency. “Can I… come there?”

Chistery opened his mouth, about to respond, but Galinda waved a hand quickly, cutting herself off. “No, no, of course not. I don’t go to places like this.” She sat back stiffly, eyes still drawn helplessly to the table outside.

Galinda huffed, her eyes still glued to the warm little scene outside. “But I want to go there…” The words slipped out before she could stop herself, almost like a child admitting a forbidden craving.

Chistery blinked, then a quiet laugh escaped him. He’d seen Galinda in countless moods, but this version of her was something else entirely. “Ms. Galinda,” he said gently, “you can go there. They’re not strangers. They’re your employees. You’re with them every day in the office.”

Galinda let out a sharp sigh, her eyes darting from the pub, to Chistery, then back again, as if waging war with herself. Finally, she straightened her shoulders, chin tilting up in that familiar, decisive way. “Okay. I’ll go there.”

Her hand reached for the car door, but she froze midway, turning back to Chistery, “Park the car somewhere near,” she instructed firmly. “And then you can take a taxi and go home. I’ll manage.”

Chistery smiled and simply nodded. “As you wish, Ms. Galinda.”

Without another word, Galinda pushed the door open and stepped out, her heels clicking against the pavement as she headed toward the pub.

Fiyero leaned back in his chair, drink in hand, his grin lazy but eyes lingering on Elphaba. “You know… I think I’ve seen you before,” he said, tone half-teasing but carrying something more beneath it. “We might’ve even met.”

That snagged Elphaba’s attention. She turned to him fully, brows knitting as her curiosity sharpened. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged, as though it wasn’t anything worth much weight. “I don’t know. Can’t place it exactly. But…” His gaze lingered, softer now. “Your eyes. They look familiar. Like I’ve seen them somewhere before.” He gave a small chuckle and a shrug, brushing it off. “Maybe it’s nothing. Just a feeling.”

Elphaba’s eyes narrowed slightly, fixed on Fiyero as though she could peel back whatever half-truth was behind his words. She searched his face, her own unreadable, caught in the pull of that strange familiarity he claimed to see.

Fiyero leaned in closer and about to shift the conversation when suddenly—

A manicured hand clamped down firmly on his shoulder and shoved him back. “You’re too close,” a sharp, melodic voice cut in.

Fiyero stumbled slightly in his seat, frowning, before he turned—and froze. His frown melted into a half-smile of surprise. “Galinda?” he said, her name drawn out like a question, as if he couldn’t quite believe it. “What are you doing here?”

Around the table, chatter died in an instant. Avaric’s glass stopped midway to his lips, Pfannee’s eyes widened, Tibett and Crope exchanged startled glances. Boq was the first to blurt, “Ms. Upland?”

The CEO of Upper Uplands, standing at their pub table, was the last thing any of them had expected to see tonight.

Galinda didn’t wait for an invitation. With all the poise of someone who owned every room she walked into, she dragged an empty chair forward and slid it right between Fiyero and Elphaba. “I want to sit here,” she said sweetly, then tilted her head at Fiyero. “Move.”

Fiyero let out a scoff under his breath, but with no real room to argue, he move his chair, still eyeing her with faint amusement.

As Galinda settled gracefully into her spot, the entire table exchanged uneasy glances. Pfannee looked like she was trying to disappear into her drink, Avaric scratched the back of his neck, Tibett and Crope sat stiffly like soldiers awaiting orders. Only Boq, bless him, looked genuinely thrilled, grinning wide at her arrival.

Galinda, oblivious—or perhaps perfectly aware—turned her head just slightly toward Elphaba. Their eyes met, and she offered a small, quick smile. Elphaba, caught off guard, felt a smile fighting its way stubbornly to her lips, one she tried and failed to suppress now that Galinda was there.

Then, with her trademark brightness, Galinda spoke up. “I was just passing by when I saw all of you here. So I thought, why not join? After all, I should thank you for your hard work. I wouldn’t be here without my team.” She spread her hands gracefully, then added, “So—order whatever you want. Tonight is my treat.”

The tension broke at once. Cheers and laughter erupted around the table, glasses lifted, and for the first time, the awkwardness of having their boss at the pub gave way to excitement at the thought of free food and drinks.

Laughter and chatter carried across the table, everyone enjoying the warmth of the evening. That’s when Avaric, perhaps a little too emboldened by the drinks, leaned toward Galinda and Fiyero.

“So… is there something between you two? Are you… together again?” he slurred slightly, the effect of alcohol making him bolder. “I mean, I heard a rumor at the office—you know, back when you were both at Shiz—that you were… a thing?”

Galinda, mid-sip of her wine—her choice, never beer—choked almost instantly, coughing into her napkin. Her eyes went wide, a mix of indignation and embarrassment.

Fiyero, on the other hand, only leaned back, that teasing smile creeping across his face, as if he’d been waiting for this exact moment.

Everyone at the table leaned in, the alcohol loosening tongues and courage alike. Laughter bubbled as they teased Galinda and Fiyero, asking pointed questions about how they got together back in their Shiz days, and insisting—half-jokingly, half-seriously—that they had always been perfect for each other.

Galinda, still recovering from her wine-cough, shot Fiyero an incredulous look, her cheeks flushing. Fiyero, on the other hand, only grinned, clearly enjoying the attention.

Elphaba, sitting quietly beside them, watched with a mixture of curiosity. She’d heard the rumor before, but now she was seeing it unravel in front of her eyes. She didn’t need to drink much—her interest alone was enough to keep her alert, and she had no desire for a hangover tomorrow. Instead, she leaned slightly forward, waiting, wanting to see how Galinda and Fiyero would respond to the playful interrogation.

Fiyero was the first to break through the laughter and drunken teasing, his voice calm but loud enough for the group to hear. He leaned back casually, swirling the last of his drink. “Well… yes, that’s true,” he admitted without hesitation. “Back then, we did look pretty perfect together.” His smile widened with just enough charm to make the words sting. “But it only lasted a short time. Galinda here was probably just gushing over me when I first transferred to Shiz.”

The table erupted in laughter, voices overlapping with fresh teases, but Elphaba froze. A faint heaviness pressed against her chest—so it was true. The rumor she’d always wondered about wasn’t just idle gossip. She didn’t know why it bothered her, but it did.

Galinda, meanwhile, was seconds away from slapping Fiyero across the face. Her cheeks burned hot with irritation as she snapped, “That is not true!” She turned sharply to the others, her voice cutting through the laughter with practiced authority. “For the record, it was Fiyero who approached me first.”

Fiyero only laughed, tilting his head in playful surrender, not even denying her claim. That earned another round of teasing from the group—voices rising again with lines like, “So are you two getting back together now?” and “Perfect couple, round two?”

But this time Galinda’s patience had frayed thin. She forced her tone into calmness, her poise unshaken, though her eyes glinted with irritation. “No,” she said firmly. “I like someone else.”

The words hit the table like a dropped glass. Silence rippled through the group, chatter cut off mid-laugh. Fiyero raised his eyebrows, still smiling, but now with a sharper edge of curiosity in his eyes.

Pfannee, wide-eyed and tipsy, leaned forward first, her voice high with excitement. “Who is it?” she asked, almost bouncing in her seat.

The whole table stilled, every gaze locking on Galinda, waiting. Even Elphaba, though she tried to keep her composure, found herself staring at the CEO, curiosity and something heavier twisting in her chest.

Galinda let the tension hang for a moment, then smiled—softly, knowingly. “It’s someone who makes everything easy for me,” she began, her tone smooth, every word deliberate. “Someone who never complains, no matter how hard the work gets.” Her eyes flicked briefly, unmistakably, toward Elphaba. “Someone who’s been by my side for a long time.”

Elphaba’s heart thudded painfully, her throat tightening. She couldn’t meet Galinda’s gaze, suddenly uneasy though a restless warmth coiled in her chest.

Fiyero’s smile faltered. The playful charm drained from his face as realization settled in—he understood exactly who Galinda was talking about. And with that came clarity: it wasn’t just that Galinda liked someone else. It was why she’d shoved herself between him and Elphaba. It was why she didn’t want him near her.

Boq clutched his chest dramatically. “Ouch—guess it’s not me then,” he said with a mock-wounded face. The act lasted all of two seconds before he broke into laughter.

The table erupted with it, the earlier tension dissolving in a rush of teasing chuckles and clinking glasses.

Galinda, cheeks still faintly warm, allowed herself a small smile—and when her eyes flicked toward Elphaba, she found the secretary already stealing a glance at her. Their smiles lingered, quiet and unspoken, before both looked away again.

Beside them, Fiyero leaned on his hand, his gaze sharp yet unreadable as it rested on the two women. He didn’t say anything, but his silence felt louder than the laughter surrounding him.

Still, the night rolled on, drinks flowed, and conversations tangled together until the cold air grew heavier with stars. They were all still there, talking, laughing, enjoying themselves as the night deepened.

When the group finally had their fill of food, drinks, and laughter, they began peeling away one by one, heading off into the night with cheerful goodbyes and promises of “next time.”

Fiyero lingered, stepping closer to Elphaba as she adjusted her coat. “I’ll drive you home,” he offered smoothly, his usual easy smile in place.

But before Elphaba could answer, Galinda’s hand slipped around her wrist with startling swiftness. With a firm tug, she pulled Elphaba along and started walking, her heels sharp against the pavement. “She’s not coming with you,” Galinda said flatly, not even sparing Fiyero a glance.

Elphaba nearly stumbled at the sudden pull, steadying herself as she glanced back over her shoulder.

Fiyero froze, then scoffed hard, a bitter laugh escaping him as he planted his hands on his waist. His head shook slowly, disbelieving, his eyes lingering on the two women walking away from him into the night.

Galinda’s grip softened once they were clear of Fiyero’s sight. She guided Elphaba gently toward her car.

Inside the quiet car, Galinda let out a small breath, her hand lingering on the wheel before she turned to Elphaba with a smile that didn’t quite hide her eagerness. “How about… a little walk? Just us,” she suggested, her tone almost casual, though her eyes betrayed the truth—she wasn’t ready for the night to end. Not when it meant being alone with Elphaba.

Elphaba studied her for a moment, then allowed a faint smile to tug at her lips. “Sounds good,” she said softly, nodding.

That was all Galinda needed. With a brighter smile, she started the car, the engine purring to life. The city lights soon gave way to quieter roads, until the car rolled to a stop near a lake, its waters shimmering faintly beneath the moonlight.

They stepped out, the crisp night air brushing over them as Galinda tucked her arms behind her back, glancing at Elphaba with a mix of shyness and delight before they began their slow walk along the lakeside path.

As they walked along the quiet lakeside, Galinda’s heels crunched softly against the gravel. She stole a sideways glance at Elphaba, her expression tightening as if something weighed on her chest.

“Don’t… mind Fiyero. Or the others,” she said at last, her voice careful but steady. “All that talk about the past… it wasn’t anything real. We were just—” she paused, searching for the right words, “—simply attracted to each other. We thought we were perfect together, but that’s all it was. I didn’t…” her lips curved into a small, honest smile, “I didn’t really love him.”

Elphaba turned her gaze toward Galinda, the reflection of the moon dancing across her dark eyes. A slow, almost relieved smile tugged at her lips. She didn’t say anything at first, but the quiet between them felt warmer now, gentler. Finally, she let out a faint breath that was almost a laugh.

“I’m glad to hear that,” Elphaba murmured, her smile lingering as they continued walking, shoulder to shoulder beneath the soft glow of the lake.

Elphaba hesitated a moment before speaking, her voice breaking the gentle quiet between them. “Your mother… she asked me to tell you about your family dinner this weekend.”

Galinda blinked, her steps faltering. The words seemed to hit her harder than Elphaba expected. She moved to respond, but before anything could leave her lips, she misstepped on the uneven path, though, maybe it was the wine lingering in her system.

Her heel caught the edge of a stone, and she tripped forward—though she didn’t quite fall. A sharp gasp escaped her as her foot twisted, sending a dull sting up her ankle.

Elphaba’s hand shot out immediately, steadying her by the arm before she could stumble again. “Careful. Are you alright?” Her brows knit, concern plain on her face.

Galinda straightened with a quick breath, brushing it off with a nervous laugh. “I-I’m fine. Perfectly fine. Just the ground being rude, that’s all.” She avoided Elphaba’s eyes, her voice clipped as though refusing to let the topic of her mother linger.

But Elphaba didn’t move her hand from Galinda’s arm right away, the warmth of her touch lingering a little longer than necessary.

Galinda took a few steps forward, trying to prove her earlier words true, but the moment her weight pressed down on that foot, a sharp ache made her stop. She drew in a hiss through her teeth, wincing as she shifted her balance.

Elphaba immediately caught the pause, her concern deepening. She stepped closer, searching Galinda’s face. “Are you really okay?” she asked softly, almost hesitant, as if afraid Galinda might brush her off again.

Galinda forced a small smile, nodding. “It’s nothing, just… a little twist. I’ll be fine.” But her voice lacked its usual confidence, betraying the sting in her ankle.

Elphaba’s gaze lingered on her, sharp and unwavering. “You’re not okay,” she said firmly, no room for Galinda to argue.

Before Galinda could protest, Elphaba moved in—silent, decisive. Her arm slipped around Galinda’s waist, steady but gentle, while her shoulder tucked under Galinda’s arm to take the weight. The sudden closeness made Galinda’s breath catch, her protests dying before they could even form.

Elphaba adjusted her grip, grounding her with quiet strength. “Lean on me,” she murmured, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “I guess it’s time to go home,” she added.

Galinda didn’t really want the night to end—not when she finally had Elphaba to herself—but with Elphaba’s touch steadying her, she found herself smiling despite the ache in her ankle. Maybe this wasn’t so bad after all.

Their steps were slow, careful, but the closeness made Galinda secretly savor each moment back to the car. When Elphaba opened the door and helped her in, Galinda leaned back, watching with a softness she didn’t let herself show.

“I’ll drive,” Elphaba said as she slipped behind the wheel. “Your ankle needs rest.”

The ride was quiet, comfortable, filled only with the hum of the engine. Soon, the car pulled up to Galinda’s large, elegant house—too spacious for just her, two maids, and Chistery, though she’d never admit the loneliness of it. Elphaba had been here a few times before for work, but tonight felt different, more personal.

Inside, Elphaba guided her gently to the couch, making sure she was settled before slipping away briefly. When she returned, an ice pack in hand, her movements were efficient but tender. Without hesitation, she knelt by the couch, carefully lifting Galinda’s foot to rest across her lap as she pressed the cold pack to the swollen ankle.

Galinda watched her, the faintest flutter in her chest. Elphaba looked so natural there—focused, gentle—as though this wasn’t just duty, but something she wanted to do.

Elphaba then looked up at Galinda, the question rising before she could stop herself. “The family dinner,” she said softly. “You’re coming, right?”

Galinda closed her eyes and let out a sigh, her head tipping back against the couch. Under her breath, almost a whisper not meant for Elphaba to catch, she muttered, “Why does Mother have to ask you…?” The truth was plain—Galinda knew she couldn’t say no when it was Elphaba asking.

Elphaba’s brows knitted faintly, catching the edge of her words but not the whole thought.

“Fine,” Galinda said at last, opening her eyes again. “I’ll come.”

A smile tugged at Elphaba’s lips, quiet and sincere.

“But,” Galinda added quickly, her gaze fixing firmly on Elphaba, “I’ll come not because of my mother. Because of you. Because you asked me.”

That made Elphaba chuckle softly, shaking her head just a little, warmth softening her usually sharp features. She nodded, then returned her focus to the task of holding the ice pack gently against Galinda’s ankle.

The room slipped into a hush, the moment lingering between them, until Galinda spoke again. “It’s getting late. I’ll call Chistery to drive you home.”

Chistery was probably asleep by now, but he still answered when Galinda called, his voice steady as ever. After giving him instructions, Galinda lowered her phone, and the two women waited together in the quiet, the night stretching comfortably around them.

They stayed there a while longer. Galinda leaned back against the couch, eyes closed, the exhaustion of the day softening her usually sharp features. She wasn’t sleeping—not fully—but she seemed content to let silence fill the room.

Elphaba let her gaze wander, drifting to the shelves nearby. Stacked neatly between rows of books were folders, the kind Galinda used to keep her endless work in order. Curiosity tugged her closer. Her fingers brushed over the spines until she drew one out—a folder thick with resumes.

She opened it. Skimmed. And there, tucked between names she didn’t recognize, was her own. Elphaba’s brow furrowed as she read over the others. All from people far more qualified than she was—degrees, experience, glowing references. She found her own among them, thinner, plainer, unimpressive beside the rest.

Her voice slipped out in a mutter, sharp with doubt. “Why would she ever choose me…?”

She thought Galinda had drifted off. But then came her voice, quiet and steady.

“Do you want to know why?”

Elphaba’s head snapped around. Galinda was sitting upright now, her eyes fixed on her.

“It’s because of your eyes,” Galinda said. Her tone was calm, but there was something buried in it, something Elphaba couldn’t name. “It’s because… I saw them again.”

The words fell heavy between them, their meaning just out of reach, and Elphaba felt her pulse stutter.

Again?

Galinda’s gaze wavered, just for a moment, as if she were looking through Elphaba rather than at her—into something older, something she couldn’t quite place. A flicker of memory brushed across her features, too fleeting to grasp.

And the night ended there with confusion. The word again stayed with Elphaba, echoing louder than the silence that followed.