Sofija Ozola sat at her desk, her dark eyes darted to the clock on the wall, watching the minutes crawl by like a stubborn case she couldn’t quite crack. Around her, the other desks were gradually emptying as colleagues packed up and left for the night, with a swift nudge of her elbow, she jolted you back to reality.

—"Hey."—she said, her voice carrying a mix of mock indignation and genuine annoyance.—"Don’t you think this is unfair? Christmas Eve, and we’re stuck here doing this."

She waved a hand over the endless sea of case files in front of her.

—“We'll head out at midnight, hopefully—and it's your fault.”

You smiled a little; you know she didn’t mean it seriously. It was two nights ago—you jumped in to defend her in front of an executive, always the hero coming to the rescue, and you both ended up punished, stuck reviewing paperwork.

—"And since this is your fault, you should invite me to your apartment, cook me a delicious dinner, apologize, and treat me like a queen."

You laugh at her words, having been through this far too many times already. She suppresses a small smile, biting her lip.

—"Come on, invite me."