Kelly's breath caught in her throat. Margaret Chen stood on the sidewalk outside Grounds for Thought, her winter coat buttoned against the November cold. She wasn't looking directly at them, but her pace had definitely slowed. Her eyes seemed to track across the storefront window with the casual curiosity of someone considering whether to step inside.

James didn't move. His hands remained wrapped around the coffee cup, his expression frozen in that careful neutrality he'd perfected. But Kelly could see his jaw clench, the only visible sign of the panic that surely mirrored her own.

Seconds stretched like taffy. Margaret paused at the corner, pulling out her phone. She glanced back toward the coffee shop, and Kelly felt her entire body go rigid. This was it. The moment their careful compartmentalization collapsed.

But then Margaret's phone must have buzzed because her attention shifted entirely. She looked down at the screen, read something, and her face shifted into focused determination. She turned away from the coffee shop and began walking quickly in the opposite direction, her purpose suddenly redirected.

Kelly exhaled slowly, not realizing she'd been holding her breath. James remained motionless for another long moment, then carefully set down his coffee cup. The manila envelope was still on the table between them, partially obscured by his newspaper.

"That was close," Kelly whispered, her voice barely audible over the ambient noise of the coffee shop.

James nodded once, a tight movement. "Too close." He picked up the newspaper, and the envelope disappeared beneath it. "We can't keep doing this. Not like this."

Kelly wanted to argue, wanted to say that what they had was worth the risk, that justice for three innocent people was worth the danger. But the words stuck in her throat because James was right. Margaret's near-discovery had crystallized something she'd been avoiding: their affair wasn't just a personal indulgence anymore. It was becoming a liability—to the case, to their clients, to everything Kelly claimed to care about.

"After the hearing," James said quietly, still not looking at her. "We need to talk about what comes next. About whether there is a next."

Kelly's chest tightened. She understood what he was really asking: whether they could survive the collision between their professional obligations and their personal desires. Whether love could exist in the space between justice and corruption.