Page 3 of Vega

I majored in health informatics before earning my master’s in data analytics. I preferred numbers because they behaved logically. Data didn’t lie unless someone manipulated it, and even then, the inconsistencies usually left a trail.

People were less predictable.

Dior could enter a room full of strangers and leave with three invitations to some elite social events, two phone numbers, and enough personal tea to ruin somebody’s relationship. I needed time to observe people before deciding whether I wanted them near me.

Somehow, our differences worked, though.

He snatched the menu from my hands and placed it on the table. “You deserve to do something big for your birthday.”

“I’m having lunch with my best friend.”

He dramatically rolled his eyes. “That isn’t big.”

“It’s big to me.”

Dior’s eyes stayed on mine. He knew birthdays were complicated for me. He understood that celebration could make absence feel louder, and that I preferred keeping the day controlled rather than building expectations other people might disappoint.

Still, Dior never let me pretend the day didn’t matter.

“We can go to dinner this weekend,” I offered. “Somewhere nice. We’ll dress up, have drinks, and stay out past ten.”

His lips twisted. “Eleven.”

“Ten-thirty.”

“Midnight.”

“You’re negotiating in the wrong direction.”

He sighed dramatically. “Fine. Eleven.”

“And no club afterward.”

“I’m not agreeing to that.”

“Then dinner ends at ten.”

“You’re a bitch on your birthday.”

The server approached before he could continue arguing, and Dior ordered champagne.

When the glasses arrived, he raised his toward me. “To another year of being brilliant, beautiful, and unnecessarily boring.”

I lifted mine. “To another year of you minding my business more than your own.”

He smiled and our glasses touched.

I might not have wanted a packed club, a section, or strangers shouting my name over music I couldn’t hear clearly, but sitting across from the person who had chosen to love me like family felt like enough.

At 11:16PM, I finally found the error.

One of our hospital clients had changed the billing code for canceled cardiac procedures without notifying our analytics department. So, the system had been counting canceled surgeries as completed ones, which explained why my forecasting model kept predicting a shortage of implantable heart devices that nobody actually needed.

I corrected the query, re-ran the report, and smiled when the numbers fell back within the acceptable range.

“Got you.”

The empty office offered no applause.