Story code: ST-000134
Part 3: I Closed The Door He Expected Open
I stopped in the hallway outside the back room with my tote tucked tight under my arm and my phone already in my hand. The bookstore kept a narrow bench under a flyer board for upcoming readings. I sat there because I did not want to pace back in, and I did not want to walk out angry and miss the one thing that had started to matter more than Derek’s performance. He had said last time too easily. Not like a guess. Not like fishing. Like he had expected a version trail. I unzipped my tote just far enough to pull the manuscript free and checked the footer on the first page. Title, date, and the file name I had started using after I changed how I stored my drafts. I had not shown him that format. I knew that much for certain because I started it after I stopped letting him look over my shoulder. My phone was already open to my cloud drive. I stood my manuscript on my lap and scrolled with my thumb. Folder names. Draft dates. A short list of recent logins and synced devices. I was not hunting for a dramatic secret. I was checking the simple thing in front of me: whether his slip matched something real. It did. One device name on the recent access list was old and familiar, the name of the laptop Derek used to bring to vendor fairs because he liked to call it his workhorse. The last access time sat there in plain text. Not tonight. Earlier that week. I looked at it until the numbers stopped blurring together. Maya pushed through the back room door carrying her clipboard against her side. She slowed when she saw me still there. “You okay?” “I will be.” My voice came out flat and steadier than I felt. “Can I ask you something practical?” “Sure.” I turned the phone so she could see the screen without taking it from me. “Do you know if the store wifi auto-connects in the back room if someone’s been here before?” She leaned in, reading without touching. “Usually, yeah. Why?” “Because Derek just referred to a version list he shouldn’t know exists, and this device name is his laptop.” I tapped the line once. “I am not asking you to verify my family history. I just need to know if I can use the office desk for five minutes and change some passwords before I go back in there.” Maya looked from the screen to my face. She did not say anything big or dramatic. She just nodded once. “Yes. Come on.” Her little organizer station was a half counter behind the event shelves, not really an office, more a stool, a charging strip, and space to set things down. Good enough. I put my tote on the stool, kept one hand on the manuscript, and started changing everything tied to the draft folder. Email first. Then the drive. Then the shared notes app I used for chapter scraps. Every new password was different from the last. I signed out other devices when the option came up and watched old access vanish line by line. Maya stood near the endcap and kept one eye on the room entrance without hovering over me. Tessa came out once with a paper cup in her hand, saw me working, and stopped. “Do you need me to grab your things from inside?” she asked. “Just my pen if it’s still by my chair.” “Got it.” She came back with my pen clipped to the top of my tote and said, quiet enough that it stayed between us, “He keeps looking out here.” I nodded. “I’m leaving in a minute.” When I finished, the final sign-out prompt blinked and disappeared. The device list refreshed. His laptop name was gone. I breathed out through my nose and zipped the tote all the way closed. Derek came through the doorway before I could stand. He had a phone in his hand and a smile that looked pulled on too fast. “There you are,” he said. “I was trying to be nice in there. You didn’t have to storm out over feedback.” I stayed seated long enough to put my manuscript fully back in the bag. “I didn’t storm out. I secured my work.” His eyes dropped to my phone screen, then to the tote. “Secured it from what? Me?” I stood. “From anyone who thought access was already theirs.” He gave a short scoff. “You are doing a lot right now.” “I changed the passwords on everything connected to my draft.” I slung the tote over my shoulder. “And I signed out every other device.” His face changed in tiny places first. His mouth tightened. He looked down at his own phone screen like he had expected something different there. “Why would you do that in the middle of a meetup?” he asked. “Because you talked about my latest version like you’d already seen it.” Maya was close enough to hear that. Tessa was just behind Derek with my paper cup in one hand and my pen in the other. Nobody jumped in. Nobody had to. Derek lifted his chin. “Or because I know how revision works? Don’t make this weird.” “Then it shouldn’t affect you,” I said. That was when the crack showed. He stepped toward me, not enough to touch, enough to crowd the air. “Undo it,” he said, low. “You’re locking me out over nothing.” There it was. Not review. Not help. Locked out. I took my pen from Tessa, slid it into my tote, and looked straight at him. “Thank you for saying that where other people can hear it.” He went still. I walked past him toward the front of the store with my manuscript under my arm and my bag zipped shut, and for the first time all night the pressure had a shape I could use in Part 4: he had called it.