The office lights were still on when they shouldn't have been.
Most floors of the building had already gone dark, the city outside taking over with its quiet glow. From the forty-second floor, the skyline looked distant and unreal, like a promise that never quite belonged to anyone.
She stood by the window, hands in her pockets, posture straight and unyielding. Even after twelve hours of meetings, negotiations, and silence, she didn't look tired. Just… closed.
I stopped a few steps behind her.
"I finished the report," I said.
She didn't turn around.
"Leave it on the table."
Her voice was calm. Professional. Controlled. It always was.
I hesitated before moving, unsure why the quiet felt heavier tonight. Maybe it was the rain tapping softly against the glass. Maybe it was the way the city lights reflected off her silhouette—sharp, composed, untouchable.
She was my superior.She was experienced.She was older than me.
And none of that mattered, because every time she spoke my name, something in me tightened.
"You should go home," she added, still facing the city. "It's late."
"Yes, ma'am."
I said it like I always did.
But as I turned to leave, I realized something unsettling.
I didn't want to.
And that was the moment I knew—this wasn't just admiration anymore.