The year is 1942 and Europe is at the height of World War Two. Mila Goldstein, a Dutch Jew living in occupied Holland, has signed on as an informant for the British Secret Intelligence Service (SIS). However, days before her assignment, a wounded Ge...
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I'M ALIVE GUYS, SWEAR! I'm so, so sorry for taking 3 years (not really, but also kind of) to update! Life has been so crazy the past 2ish months! From taking care of a husband sick with covid, to Christmas festivities, and work, I've been swamped! I finally had some time these last two days to sit down and put this chapter (which has been floating around in my head for about month) into words! Let me know what you guys think! <3
Flipping the page, Mila peeked over the top of the book she'd been reading. This was the fifth evening she'd stayed late to sit with Josef while he worked on his report. The first night had been much like their usual evenings spent working late at the office. They had chatted while Josef read through the ever growing stack of files on his desk, had taken a break for dinner, and another for coffee, and had called it a night by 8 o'clock. However, with each passing night, the conversations had grown shorter, and the breaks briefer, until both had stopped entirely. She'd been sitting in her usual spot, the armchair directly across from Josef's, for nearly two hours now and he had yet to utter a word to her despite her numerous attempts to strike up a conversation.
"As much as I like sitting with you while you work, wouldn't you say it's about time for a break?" She chimed, closing the copy of 'Great Expectations' Josef had given her for Christmas. "We could go pick up dinner-," She continued but was cut off.
"I'm not hungry," Josef said flatly, without so much as a glance away from the file he was reading through.
"Well..." Mila began, sitting her book down on the desk. "We could get coffee ... I'm sure that cafe down the street is still open. If we hurry-,"
"You're free to leave if this isn't entertaining enough for you," He interjected harshly, his eyes darting up to look at her.
"That's not what I meant..." She trailed off, taken aback by his sudden outburst.
"I'm sorry this isn't how you envisioned spending your evening, but when I said I needed to work I meant it," He continued, his words tumbling out with a venom she'd never heard from him before. "The door's there if you feel the need to use it," He added, nodding towards the door before turning his attention back to the file on his desk.
Mila blinked back the tears that burned her eyes. Josef had never been angry with her, much less raised his voice at her. She shook the urge to cry away, rearranging her face to hide the hurt his words had left in their wake. If he didn't want her there, that was fine. She would leave.
Grabbing her book from the desk, she picked up her bag and coat and tossed them over her shoulder. Grasping the doorframe, she looked over her shoulder at Josef. He was still seated, his eyes having never left the pages in front of him. She studied him for a moment. His eyebrows were scrunched, pulling all the other features of his face into a strained expression. His eyes were heavy and bloodshot, despite the untouched glass of Scotch sitting on the desk beside him. He looked exhausted.
