Ariel smiled and gestured to the chair across from her desk. “Of course,” she said. “Come on in.”

  Abigail entered like she always did: calm, composed, clipboard tucked neatly under one arm, tablet in hand. But there was something different today. As she set the folder and tablet carefully on Ariel’s desk and took the seat across from her, she didn’t immediately speak. She just… looked at her.

  Not in a cold or assessing way. Not the way she did in pitch meetings or quarterly reviews. No; this was something closer to wonder. Her lips were pressed together like they were holding back a secret, and her eyes sparkled with barely restrained amusement.

  Ariel leaned back slightly in her chair, eyebrows raised, lips curling into a small smile. “Okay,” she said. “You’re going to give me a complex if you stare at me like that much longer.”

  That broke the silence.

  Abigail chuckled, quietly but warmly, and finally leaned forward, opening the folder with a slow, practiced motion. “I was going to ease into this,” she said, “but you know what? You’ve earned the full dramatic reveal.”

  Inside the folder were a half-dozen printouts: articles, social posts, snippets of write-ups from gaming blogs and event reporters. All with Ariel’s name in the headlines.

  “The Director Who Lit Up the Expo Floor”

  “Why Ariel McIntyre Is the Future of Indie Dev Leadership”

  “Willowbound’s Director Feels Like a Player’s Best Friend”

  Ariel blinked and leaned forward, carefully picking up the first page. They weren’t just fluff pieces; they were thoughtful, enthusiastic write-ups praising her presence. Her energy, her authenticity. The way she had spoken with fans, laughed with players, leaned into each moment like she genuinely cared… because she did. Words like approachable, genuine, kind, and electric jumped out from the paragraphs.

  One quote caught her eye and held it:

  “In an industry often dominated by bravado, Ariel McIntyre reminds us that leadership can be gentle, passionate, and deeply human.”

  Her cheeks went pink…

  …Then she saw Holly’s name.

  “It was impossible not to notice the woman at Ariel’s side: her partner, Holly, who stepped in without hesitation when Ariel looked momentarily overwhelmed. We watched her redirect an eager crowd of journalists with effortless charm and protectiveness. It was like watching someone throw a velvet rope around Ariel with nothing but a smile.”

  Ariel’s throat tightened.

  Abigail watched her, lips curved. “They loved you,” she said simply. “And they noticed the support system around you. Holly wasn’t just there. She made an impression. You both did.”

  Ariel set the page down slowly, eyes still scanning it, even though she wasn’t really reading anymore.

  Abigail gave her a beat to breathe, then continued.

  “You handled this weekend with more grace than I thought was possible. Your feedback during panels, your ability to speak to both devs and fans, the way you made every single person feel like they mattered.” She tapped one finger lightly on the folder. “This wasn’t just a good showing, Ariel. It was exceptional.”

  Ariel sat back, a slow, somewhat dazed smile on her face. “Wow. That’s... a lot.”

  “It is,” Abigail said. “Which brings me to the next thing.”

  She folded her hands atop the folder, tilting her head. “Have you reconsidered getting a PR Manager?”

  Ariel barked a laugh. “You mean after Holly single-handedly ran interference with a crowd of journalists while I was two seconds from a panic attack?”

  “Exactly.”

  Ariel shook her head, grinning now. “Honestly? As long as Holly’s with me at these things, I think I’ll be fine.”

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Abigail smiled wider at that, then, almost casually, slid a single sheet of paper from beneath the folder and laid it flat on the desk.

  She didn’t say anything at first. Just looked at the page. Looked at Ariel. Studying, like she was trying to discover some great secret.

  And then...

  “You know,” she said softly, “I’ve worked with a lot of people in this industry. I’ve seen every kind of partnership. Creative, professional… romantic. But I’ve never seen anything quite like what you two have.”

  Ariel stilled.

  “There’s something rare in the way you draw strength from her presence,” Abigail continued, her tone quiet but sincere. “And the way she moves when she’s protecting you like nothing else matters. You anchor each other. And that kind of trust? That kind of harmony? You don’t train for it. You don’t plan it. It just… is.”

  She paused, fingers resting lightly on the paper.

  “I called a meeting with HR and the Board this morning.”

  Abigail watched Ariel closely as she spoke, her voice measured but warm. Clearly practiced, but also undeniably personal.

  “I know you’ve probably toyed with the idea,” she said, gesturing subtly toward the folder of printouts. “Hiring Holly as your PR Manager. I’d be shocked if you hadn’t.”

  Ariel let out a small breath and nodded, leaning back in her chair. “Yeah,” she admitted. “Of course I have. She’s… incredible. She reads people better than anyone I’ve ever met. And after this weekend?” She gave a helpless shrug. “It felt obvious. But…”

  “But you thought there would be problems,” Abigail finished gently. “Because she’s your fiancée. Because technically she’d be reporting to you. Because people might whisper about favoritism, or nepotism, or think we were bending the rules for the golden couple of Willowbound.”

  Ariel gave a wry smile. “Pretty much.”

  Abigail nodded slowly. Then, after a beat, she said, “So I didn’t make any wild or grand pitches. I just let the weekend speak for itself.”

  She tapped one of the articles with a fingertip. “I let this speak. The warmth, the praise, the professionalism. The fact that journalists came away not just impressed with the studio, but with you…and with her. Holly didn’t just handle the media crowd. She owned them. She knew exactly what you needed without being told, and she made everyone in that space feel like she was on their side.”

  Ariel swallowed, her throat tight.

  “The Board loved her,” Abigail continued, smiling. “And HR? Well…HR got creative.”

  She reached for the single sheet of paper she’d placed on the desk a moment ago and flipped it over.

  It was clean…formal…and, oh so precise.

  At the top, centered in bold:

  Offer of Employment – Willowbound Studios - Holly Sinclair

  Position Title: PR Manager to the Director of Game Development

  Salary: $130,000/year

  Reporting Line: Director of Studio Strategy and Operations

  Ariel stared.

  The breath left her in one long, stunned exhale. Her eyes scanned the document once, then again, as if she didn’t quite believe it would still be there the second time.

  “She’d report to me,” Abigail said calmly, watching her reaction. “Not to you. That eliminates the chain-of-command concern. It also makes the role explicitly in support of your public presence—studio events, press coordination, social strategy, developer relations—some of the things she’s already done informally.”

  Ariel blinked, then looked up at her. “You really… You built this for her.”

  “I built this for you both,” Abigail corrected gently. “You two are a unit. Everyone sees it. We’re not asking you to separate personal from professional. We’re recognizing that what you’ve already created is rare and powerful, and we’d be foolish not to make space for it.”

  Ariel’s eyes shimmered as she stood slowly, her breath catching in her chest. She rounded the desk and without hesitation, she wrapped Abigail in a hug.

  Abigail stiffened for half a second then exhaled and returned it, one hand resting gently on Ariel’s back.

  “Thank you,” Ariel whispered, voice thick with emotion. “For doing this. For seeing us. For finding a way to join the two things I love most in this world”

  Abigail smiled softly as she leaned back. “It’s the kind of energy this place needs. Energy that shakes the foundations of the industry.”

  Ariel wiped at her cheek and let out a shaky laugh. “God. She’s going to flip. I’ll talk to her tonight. If she wants it, and I mean really wants it, I’ll have her sign and have it back to you tomorrow.”

  “I’m not in a rush,” Abigail said, collecting her tablet. “Let her process it. But for what it’s worth…” she smiled as she moved toward the door, “I think she’s already been doing the job. We’re just going to finally pay her for it.”

  Ariel grinned through her tears. “She’s going to cry.”

  “Good,” Abigail said, pausing with one hand on the door. “Then I’ll know I did it right.”

  She gave one last look - something between pride and fondness - before stepping out, the door clicking shut behind her.

  Ariel stood alone in her office, the offer letter still open on her desk, her heart full to bursting.