The morning began as usual. Auren was getting ready for work, hastily smoothing her hair and fastening her jacket. The phone on the table vibrated softly, and she reached for it almost without thinking.
A message from Kael.
"Auren, please buy tickets to Germany and book a hotel for three days. As soon as possible."
She frowned. He had never written so curtly, without explanation. They had seen each other only yesterday evening—he'd looked calm, with not a single hint of any trip.
For a moment she stared at the screen, debating whether to ask questions. But then she sighed, opened her laptop, and began typing. If he was asking, it must be necessary.
Twenty minutes later, the tickets and reservation were ready. She took a screenshot of the confirmation and sent it to him.
His reply came almost immediately:
"Thank you. It's a business trip. Not for our company—my father asked me to help with some matters."
Auren reread the short explanation. The words were simple enough, yet there was a distance hidden between the lines.
She set her phone aside and lingered for a moment, staring at the neatly stacked documents in her bag. A strange feeling stirred in her chest—for the first time, she was about to face a workday without Kael.
The thought seemed oddly unfamiliar. Even empty. She drew in a breath, brushed her hair back again, and walked toward the door, forcing herself not to dwell on it.
The day turned out hectic. Auren buried herself in work—projects, team discussions, paperwork, endless edits, instructions. Hours slipped away unnoticed; the schedule was tight, her concentration absolute.
Only when one of the employees stretched and announced that the workday was nearly over did she glance at the clock. Already so late?
She exhaled quietly, gathered her papers, and made her way back to her office. The building was emptying out, voices fading as people left one by one.
Dropping into her chair, Auren leaned back, rolling her neck. That's when she felt it again—that strange unease. Not physical. Emotional.
Her gaze swept the room, as though searching for something out of place. But everything was as it should be: papers stacked on her desk, a pen by the keyboard, silence all around. Still, the hollowness lingered.
No teasing remarks today. No attentive glances. No playful game that had somehow become part of their routine.
She sighed softly, rubbing her temples.
"Foolishness," she muttered under her breath.
Kael had simply gone away. Only for a few days. Why should that bother her?
All day long she hadn't once remembered that he wasn't there. And yet now… it suddenly felt too obvious. Work had consumed her, yes—that had been a blessing. But in this quiet moment, there was no escaping the truth.
She closed her eyes for a second, gathering herself. Tomorrow would be busy again. For now, she just needed a moment of rest.
When she stepped outside, the wind hit her face, sharp and cold. Dark clouds smothered the sky, weighing heavily over the city. Within moments, fine drizzle turned into a downpour.
Auren stopped, staring at the wet pavement. For some reason, it reminded her of that night when Kael had offered her a ride. It had been raining then too, though she hadn't gotten wet that time.
If he were here now…
She wouldn't even have time to think of the rain. He would already be by her side, opening the car door, tossing some teasing remark, whisking her away before she had the chance to refuse.
But Kael wasn't here.
She tightened her grip on her bag and inhaled the damp evening air.
"It doesn't matter," she whispered.
And yet, as she stepped forward into the storm, the emptiness inside her only deepened.
***
Kael's day unfolded in a blur of meetings, negotiations, and signed contracts. He handled business as he always did—focused, precise, unshakably calm. And yet, behind the sharp clarity of his thoughts, something else kept surfacing.
Or rather—someone.
Toward evening, while he sat in a partner's office, the secretary brought in a tray with coffee. Kael took the cup absentmindedly, raised it to his lips—then paused.
Something wasn't right.
No, the coffee itself was good. Expensive beans, brewed to perfection, balanced in flavor. But still—not right.
He set the cup down slowly, his fingers tightening on the pen he had been holding. At once, another scent flooded his memory.
Auren.
His brow furrowed, and he rubbed his temple.
"Is everything all right?" one of the partners asked, looking up from the documents.
"Yes," Kael replied curtly, lifting the cup again for another sip.
Still, it wasn't the same.
Unbidden, an image slipped into his mind: her placing a cup before him with a faint smile, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, performing the simplest of gestures with an ease that somehow left him undone.
"Damn it. She even makes ordinary coffee better than anyone else."
Kael leaned back with a sigh, his gaze drifting toward the city outside the window.
What are you doing to me, Auren?
He returned to his hotel room late that night. Shrugging off his jacket, loosening his tie, he raked a hand down his face. The room was quiet, the warm glow of a single lamp softening the sterile white of the sheets.
He went to the minibar, opened a bottle of water, and drank deeply. Without turning on the overhead light, he sat on the edge of the bed.
Something was missing.
The day had been successful—the meetings went smoothly, negotiations were productive, everything had unfolded according to plan. And yet, amid all of it, one piece was absent. Something vital.
Auren.
He began undoing his cuffs, and his eyes fell, once again, on the phone lying nearby. Its screen was dark.
Kael hesitated, then reached for it. Scrolling through their last conversation, he found nothing new. No message from her. He closed the chat and tossed the phone back onto the bed, fingers steepled before him.
He didn't even know why he expected anything. She had no obligation to write to him. And yet…
He dragged a hand over his face, then forced himself toward the laptop. There was still work to be done; distraction wouldn't be difficult. But even with documents open on the screen, his gaze kept straying back to the phone.
Maybe I should message her first?
He rose abruptly, grabbed the phone, sat back down at the desk with it in his hand.
No. Ridiculous.
Shaking his head, amused at his own thought, he set it aside again.
But moments later, his eyes drifted to the blank screen once more, hoping against reason to see her name.
He didn't know what he expected. A text. A call. Even a mistaken message—it didn't matter. Anything, as long as it was from her.
"Absurd," he muttered under his breath.
But the emptiness wouldn't leave.
His temples throbbed. Weariness had finally caught up with him. Leaning back, he closed his eyes, hoping the darkness would ease the ache.
Instead, memory filled the void.
Her fingers.
Light. Warm. Gentle. They had touched his temples, pressing softly, easing the tension. At first uncertain, then surer, smoother—instinctive, almost practiced. She had known exactly where to touch, how to soothe.
Kael wet his lips, suddenly aware of how much he missed it.
Why was he remembering even this?
He closed his eyes tighter, but the ghost of her touch remained, lingering like fire along his skin.
Had he known, in that moment, that he would be sitting here now, twenty-four hours later, haunted by the memory of her hands?
He sat up sharply, banishing the thought, and reached for his water.
"Damn it," he muttered, drinking deeply.
He was just tired. That was all. Just exhaustion.
Certainly not her.
Still, his gaze fell on the phone again. Its black screen reflected his own face—drawn, shadowed by fatigue.
Why was he doing this? Why did he keep reaching for the device as though it held something more than it did?
He unlocked it. Opened her chat. Stared at her name glowing at the top of the screen. His thumb hovered.
What would I even say?
"How's work?" Too formal.
"Miss me?" Too much.
"Does your coffee taste as bad as the secretary's here?" …That might work.
He smirked, half-typed the words, then deleted them.
Too obvious.
With a frown, he tossed the phone onto the bed once more.
Let it be. If she wanted to, she would message first.
As for him—he'd simply go to sleep.
Or so he thought.
Minutes later, he reached for the phone again.
He didn't know why. Or perhaps he did, and refused to admit it.
Searching, he typed her name. Did she even use social media? He had never seen her on her phone at work. But curiosity won out.
A list of accounts. Dozens of Aurens. But this one—no photo, no details. Still, he somehow knew.
He opened it.
Private profile.
"Of course," he muttered. "She'd never put her life on display."
At the bottom—just one short line of bio.
"A smoldering ember can become a fire."
His lips curved faintly.
Smoldering ember? You have no idea how fitting that is.
But Kael wasn't who he was for nothing. He knew how to find people.
He searched again: Auren Laurent.
More results this time.
An official account. A professional headshot. Businesslike, immaculate.
He clicked.
Project manager. Business strategist. International experience.
Posts of market analysis, clipped reflections on industry trends.
No personal photographs. No laughter. No trace of the Auren who met his eyes with mischief, who handed him tea in the mornings, who massaged his temples when his headaches threatened to break him.
It felt… wrong.
The woman on this page was polished, untouchable. The perfect professional.
But where was the spark? The flame in her gaze? The Auren who teased him without fear, who cared for him without asking?
He stared at her photo, feeling something tighten in his chest.
He didn't want this Auren. Not the flawless one.
He wanted the real one.
The one only he had seen.
***
The second day began for Auren with ordinary tasks. She came to the office but immediately noticed that something was wrong. Silence reigned in the room, and even her own steps echoed through the empty corridors. Kael was not there, and this absence felt especially strong.
Throughout the day Auren sat in the reception, looking through documents, turning them in her hands, but her thoughts constantly returned to him. Kael was far away, and his absence gave her no peace. Once again, she looked at the clock, hoping the day would pass faster. But time dragged slowly. She reached for a cup of coffee, thinking about how she missed his games and his flirting. It was a strange feeling, because she always told herself that she had to focus on work, not on such little things. But now even his jokes and those moments when he was near seemed important.
The last time they had exchanged glances and joked, she felt her heart start to beat faster. Those little moments, which seemed like nothing, began to take up more space in her head. Now all that was in the past. Kael had left, and Auren again felt somehow out of place.
Meanwhile, Kael was more and more immersed in work, trying to finish everything as soon as possible so that he could return home at least a day earlier. He was so absorbed in meetings and negotiations that he hardly noticed time, and during breaks he only checked his phone, hoping that Auren would write or call. But she did not. And although he did not fully realize it, deep down he wanted her to contact him.
Kael impatiently waited for the moment when his trip would end and he would return to the office to see Auren again. Evening came again, and Auren sat in her room, tormented by different thoughts. She could not stop thinking about Kael, and the more she tried to focus on work, the more her thoughts slipped away to him. She felt that she missed him, and this feeling was new to her.
She looked at her phone, its screen dimly glowing in the dark room. Minutes passed, and her fingers could not decide what to do. What could she write? Simply ask how he was? But that would be too straightforward. Auren was lost in thoughts, not knowing how to approach this. An entire hour passed, but she could not bring herself to do it.
Auren thought. She couldn't just write something trivial. But then her eyes fell on the documents from today. That could be a good excuse—to send them to Kael without making obvious hints. It was something official and not too personal. She quickly gathered the files and prepared a letter, attaching the necessary documents. It was her way of getting out of the situation without showing too much attachment. Taking a final breath, she sent the letter. It was businesslike, maybe even safe, but deep down Auren felt a small relief that, despite everything, she had taken the first step.
At that time, in another city, Kael had just returned to his hotel room. As soon as he closed the door behind him and took off his jacket, his eyes fell on his phone. A notification signal. He checked the screen again, and his heart suddenly skipped a beat—a new letter from Auren. He didn't know what she might write to him, though he had been waiting for it. He opened it, hardly realizing what to expect.
He walked to the table and sat down, his hands automatically scrolling through the letter with the documents, but other thoughts were already forming in his head. Kael held the phone in his hands, and his eyes ran over the letter. It was a report, just a report that she had sent, but to him every word, every symbol on the screen suddenly took on a different shade. He felt that this letter was something more than just work. He read the text again, trying to find more than just formal words. He felt something stirring inside him.
It was not just a report, but his own perception that Auren, despite her outward restraint, also felt some faint but noticeable attachment. And this feeling that arose in his chest made him think. He began typing a message, not without a faint smile: "Good evening. Don't you think this is a little too official on your part?" He wondered how Auren would react. She always managed to remain reserved and a little mysterious, but that was her charm: her replies almost always turned out witty and bold.
A little later the screen lit up with a new message. Kael smiled as he read: "Too official? What exactly? The report? Do you think I wouldn't have sent it just because you're not here? Or are you testing me?" His lips curved in a half-smile. She was provoking him again, playing on the fine edge, making him forget his own restraint.
"Well then, since you decided this is too official," Auren added in the next message, "next time I can send you a video report. To make it look even stricter."
Kael laughed, feeling his heart beat a little faster. In her words he heard a challenge, and it was impossible to refuse it. A lively spark appeared in his eyes, and he typed: "Only if you yourself are in the frame. Without you, I don't need the report."
Auren involuntarily smiled. His words made her nervous again, and at the same time ignited a strange interest inside. Kael always knew how to involve her in his game—his flirting was like a thin line on which she balanced, trying not to stumble. Her fingers quickly typed a reply: "Well, if you want me in the frame, then be ready: I'll record the report with a serious expression on my face."
Sending the message, Auren wondered for a second if she had gone too far. But then she reminded herself: keeping distance had always been her rule.
Less than a minute later a new reply arrived: "A serious face, you say? Maybe then I'll just refuse the video if you can't be sweet… Although, you know, I would be much more interested to see your face when you're disappointed."
Auren rolled her eyes, pressing her lips together to keep from laughing. His words pushed her more and more to stop pretending, but at the last moment she held herself back. "If you're so interested in my face, come back soon. Then I'll show you not only that, but the entire quarterly report. That will be fair."
She sent the message, feeling her heart start to beat faster. His fingers slowly typed a reply: "You say it as if you're waiting for my return. Well, if that's the case, maybe I'll think about my visit."
Auren read his message and felt her pulse quicken. She tried to hide it within herself, but Kael's words not only made her think—they made her feel that this flirtation was already going beyond a simple game. She bit her lip for a moment, hesitating whether to answer or to steer the conversation into a safer direction. But her fingers were already typing: "You're too sure of yourself. I only sent the report because it's my job. And actually, isn't it you who seems to be missing me too much?"
Her fingers slowed on the screen, but she couldn't help but reply. A light response, to keep her distance, but still not let him think she was losing control. She continued: "I just don't want you to get confused. I'm waiting for you only for work, nothing more."
It was hard to be cold when he played with her emotions like that. But she couldn't allow herself to lose her composure, even if inside there were already so many thoughts about him. The answer came quickly, with the same shameless confidence she was used to from him: "You can pretend as much as you like that this is only work. But we both know—you wrote first. Which means you miss me, even if you won't admit it."
Auren sighed again. Her head was full of thoughts, but she decided to regain control. She wrote in reply: "Miss you? Are you sure about what you're saying? Maybe you're just bored because you're on a business trip? After all, two days—it's not that long. I'm working, I have things to do."
That was her way to return the conversation to normal, to show that she did not depend on his flirting. But she herself understood how her words were losing confidence. Kael, reading the message, immediately replied: "Bored, you say? Maybe I should return sooner and make sure you're not having too much fun without me."
Now his words, like fire, kindled in her feelings she tried to avoid. With each of his messages she felt she was losing control. She could have replied with sarcasm, taking the game back into her own hands, but she felt that it had already gone to another level. His words pulled her into an abyss, and she knew that if she did not stop this, she would lose her composure.
"You're playing with fire, boss," she wrote, feeling her fingers begin to tremble. It was not just a reaction to his flirting, but a real challenge. She was bringing the conversation back into the boundaries of a game where both could play.
The answer came quickly: "Well then, maybe I'm not afraid of fire?"—Kael could not resist adding his share of provocation, replying as Auren had.
Auren sat staring at his message, suddenly realizing she could not continue this conversation any longer. He kept pushing her, and she had already gone too far. "Playing with fire"— this was what he said to her whenever she defied him or flirted. It reminded her of how close he had stood when he said it, how his eyes narrowed, and how his voice grew lower.
"I have to go," she wrote quickly, feeling her hands tremble slightly. She didn't know what exactly made her react this way—his words or her own feelings that she could no longer ignore. But she shouldn't write like that, and shouldn't answer her boss this way. It wasn't right. Not just because he was her boss, but because he was Kael Dantes. Precisely because he was Dantes Kael, it was wrong.
"I'll wait, Auren," Kael replied, and her fingers clenched slightly from the tension. She knew this fire in their relationship would not go out, and next time he would again make her feel uncertain. That's why she had to stop in time. Now!
But Auren stared at the phone screen, rereading Kael's last message. "I'll wait." Short words, but they made her heart beat stronger. She felt something inside tremble—as if this simple reply meant much more than it seemed at first glance. Her fingers trembled, and she put them down on the table to calm herself, but accidentally knocked over the pen that was lying there. Auren frowned, leaned to pick it up, but accidentally hit the paper coffee cup. Luckily, it was already empty.
"Damn…"
She quickly picked things up, but her hands were not as steady as usual. Her thoughts were tangled, preventing her from concentrating. Fortunately, the working day was already over. Now she would go home and calm down. Why did his words so disrupt the rhythm of her heart, and why did her body react like this at all?
She stood up sharply, grabbed her bag, and headed for the exit. Hastily rummaging inside for her keys, her hand found the keyring—the keys to the reception. Kael was not there, and although the building had security, no one was protected from internal problems. In his office, as in her own, important documents were kept.
Stepping into the corridor, she approached the door and inserted the key into the lock. But her fingers were still trembling, and the lock did not yield.
"Come on…"
She applied more force, but from nervousness turned the key unevenly. A dull crack sounded. Auren froze. She slowly pulled her hand away, seeing that part of the key remained in the lock.
"You've got to be kidding me…"
Auren exhaled, trying to pull herself together. Panicking was pointless—she had to solve the problem. Thinking through the situation, she turned around and went back to her office. Taking out her phone, she quickly dialed the technical department.
"Good evening. This is Auren, in the director's reception there's a problem with the lock—the key broke. It needs to be fixed as soon as possible."
A tired voice replied on the other end: "Sorry, working hours are already over. All the technicians have gone home, we can send someone in the morning."
Auren bit her lip. Tomorrow—that was too long. She put the phone away, then glanced at the stack of papers on her desk. Among them were important documents that shouldn't be left in her office if the reception was to remain open. Of course, if someone wanted to steal something, they wouldn't break into her room—the director's office was much more valuable. But it was better not to risk it.
Gathering the necessary folders, she went to the boss's door. Auren slipped inside, carefully placed the documents on his desk, and just as quietly slipped back out. This time she checked twice that the key fit smoothly into the lock before slowly turning it. The lock clicked, and the door locked.
Phew.
Shrugging her shoulders slightly, trying to get rid of the tension, Auren grabbed her bag and headed for the exit. The day had already drained her, and the broken key was just the last straw. The main thing—tomorrow she mustn't forget to remind about the lock.