The Love Algorithm

Chapter 19: After the Fall

The ride back from Hillspring was quiet.

William sat in his usual window seat, nursing a bandaged arm and a smug grin, while Est sat beside him, unusually still. Every bump on the road made Est glance sideways, just to make sure William hadn't winced. He had—quietly, once—but said nothing.

Their team, exhausted but buzzing, filled the bus with laughter, inside jokes, and exaggerated retellings of the weekend.

"Santa swore he saw a bear—turns out it was Mark in a blanket!"

"William fell twice, but only one counted for drama!"

William played along, tossing back dry quips and grinning at everyone's stories, but Est barely spoke. He sat with his arms crossed, backpack hugged to his chest like armor, his attention pinned somewhere between the bus floor and the seat in front of him.

"You okay?" William whispered, gently nudging him.

"Fine," Est replied, voice flat.

But William noticed how his fingers tapped against the strap of the backpack, again and again, like a metronome stuck on worry.

Monday morning came with fluorescent lights, black coffee, and inboxes full of clutter.

But something had shifted.

When William walked in — one hand in his coat pocket, the other holding a fresh bag of muffins — Santa greeted him with a loud, "Look who didn't fall off a cliff today!"

Laughter followed. Even Est cracked a half-smile behind his monitor.

William sauntered over to Est's desk, leaned on the divider, and whispered,

"You miss me?"

"No," Est replied, without looking up. "You've been in my proximity for 43 consecutive hours. It's statistically exhausting."

"That's not even a real phrase."

"Yes it is. I coined it."

William chuckled and dropped a muffin beside Est's keyboard.

"Consider this my emotional rent."

Over the next few days, the office routine resumed — but not quite as before.

William was louder. Happier. More present.

And Est?

Est was... softer.

Not in words — those remained clipped and careful. But in gestures. He paused to listen more. Stopped correcting people's minor logic errors in meetings. One evening, he even joined the team for a 10-minute coffee break in the lounge — something no one had ever seen before.

When someone brought up karaoke night, Est visibly tensed. William noticed. He always noticed now.

"Don't worry," he said under his breath. "We'll pretend you were never there."

"I wasn't there."

"Sure, Professor Denial."

Est didn't respond. But he smirked. That alone made William's heart stutter.

Lunchtime on Thursday, William found Est at the far table in the cafeteria, alone with a protein bar and a notebook.

He slid into the seat across from him.

"Did you eat anything that involves joy?"

"Yes. This bar contains seven grams of joy per serving."