Wrapped in silence you stared at the name on the paper. This couldn't be.

Was this a cruel joke?

"P. Graves...", you mumbled, eyebrows drawn together. "Phillip. No... no that... Ha... what are the odds?"

It had to be coincidence.

Besides, how likely was it that you met a man named Phillip and he happened to be your fathers replacement at the company?

No, this must have been a dump coincidence. A really weird, but also funny coincidence.

You would meet him, find out that it was someone completely different and then you two would have a laugh about it.

Suddenly someone knocked on the door.

Struck by surprise, you flinched.

"Who's there?", you asked.

Someone cleared their throat.

"It's Michael.", he announced himself. "I've got tea. Or coffee. Whatever you feel like."

Quickly, you folded the sheets of paper so that the lines weren't readable anymore and sat up straight.

"Enter.", you allowed him.

Silence spread for a moment.

You waited, but nothing happened. Confused, you frowned.

You were about to get up to have a look as the door opened slowly and Michael popped his head into the room.

A strange expression was on his face. If you wouldn't have know better you would have asked him if he was worried about something.

"Come in!", you said with a smile, happy to see familiar face that hadn't gone mad since the funeral. "Is there anything you got me to eat by chance?"

With a soft chuckle he placed a piece of cake in front of you. It was your favourite, decorated with all kinds of little treats. You remembered this type of cake from many of your birthdays as a child and young teen.

"It's still warm, so watch out not to burn your tongue.", he said and poured you both a cup of coffee and a cup of tea.

"You're a lifesaver.", you said and took the first bite.

Immediately your heart felt at ease. It was like a hug inside your stomach, the taste of nostalgia and comfort.

Letting out a sound of enjoyment, you closed your eyes and leaned back in the chair to cherish this moment as much as possible.

Michael remained motionless. He didn't seem to want to leave yet.

After a while you opened your eyes a bit to gift him a questioning look.

He cleared his throat.

"I'm sorry, this is not my place to ask, nor a good time.", he said, visibly ashamed.

You put the fork down.

"Speak your mind.", you gestured towards the chair in front of the desk.

His eyes wandered over his shoulder to the door. With a sigh he walked to close it and the returned to take a seat.

"I know these are hard times.", he began, audibly struggling to find the right words. "And I know everyone is grieving differently."

Confused, you frowned.

He talked as if one wrong word could shatter you. It wasn't like him. He had always been soft, but never walked on eggshells. But this was exactly what he did in that moment.

And it irritated you.

"What are you talking about?", you asked with a put on smile, your hand clutching the letter out of reflex.

You didn't want him to know what was written in it. Somehow it made you worried that he could have been send by someone.

It made you feel awful to suspect him of being a spy for someone. In fact, you didn't even know who it could have been.

There was only one person that seemed to be capable at the moment.

But you refused to think truly ill of family members. They were all that was left. And Michael was part of them.

So you didn't speak your thoughts out loud and just sat there, listening.

Visibly uncomfortable, Michael shifted in his seat.

"I've noticed you weren't yourself last night.", he started over, looking you deep in the eyes. "When your mother died you were troubled. And I just want you to know that if these... feelings return, you can always seek help. There is no shame in that."

Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath before a single word was able to leave your mouth.

You sighed.

"Michael.", you looked him dead in the eye. "I can assure you that this is not the same. I am old enough to understand now. And I promise you I do not intent on attempting."

For a long, uncomfortably long moment the two of you just sat there in silence. Not a single word was spoken. But everything was said.

He was just worried. He had come to help.

But it still puzzled you where he had gotten the idea from.

After another moment, he just sighed with relief and had to smile.

"God, that takes a lot of pressure off my old heart.", he said and got up. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have believed a rumour so easily."

You frowned.

"A rumour?", you asked.

"Yes. Well, no. Not a rumour."

"Someone came to you.", you said without a single doubt in your voice.

Once again he fell silent.

"It was a reliable source.", he said as if he had to defend himself.

"Who?", you asked without skipping a beat.

Your face didn't move. You just stared at him, eyes empty, face neutral.

Something inside of your chest felt light and heavy at the same time. As if there was a void that started to grow and devour everything once more.

"You shouldn't be put off by such stupid words.", Michael tried to calm you.

You blinked.

"I want to know who said I was suicidal.", your voice was suddenly so stern, so hard that it couldn't have been picked up as a request but an order.

For the very first time in your life you had ordered Michael to do as you wanted.

The old man sighed.

"Felix approached me.", he said, his eyes tired all of a sudden. "He said he was worried. You left in the middle of the night and only came back an hour ago."

Struck by surprise, your face froze.

"Felix?", you asked.

"Yes. Now if you'll excuse me. I've got duties to fulfil.", and with those words, Michael turned to leave.

"One more thing.", you called out as he was at the door.

"Hm?"

"Did you ever meet a man named P. Graves?"

He thought for a moment.

"No. Your father wanted him to remain anonymous."

"Why?"

"I don't know. Just to be safe, he had said."