Working closely with Adrian was not something Elara had anticipated would be difficult. She had collaborated with countless consultants before—brilliant, arrogant, forgettable. Adrian was none of those things in the expected way.
He challenged her ideas without condescension, questioned assumptions without dismissing effort, and listened—truly listened—in a way that demanded honesty in return. Their discussions stretched longer than scheduled, often spilling into quiet moments after meetings when neither seemed eager to leave.
Colleagues noticed the tension. It wasn't hostile, but it wasn't friendly either. It lived somewhere between respect and resistance, charged with something unspoken.
Late one evening, as the office lights dimmed and most employees had gone home, Elara found Adrian still at his desk.
"You're still here," she remarked.
"So are you," he replied easily.
They shared a tired smile. It felt intimate in a way she didn't expect.
Adrian asked about her background, carefully, as though testing fragile ground. Elara hesitated before answering, then spoke of her father's death and the responsibility that had followed. She kept her tone measured, but the memories pressed close.
Adrian didn't interrupt. When she finished, he nodded slowly.
"Independence becomes armor," he said. "But armor gets heavy."
The words struck deeper than she cared to admit.
For the first time, Elara wondered what weight Adrian carried beneath his calm exterior.