The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, revealing the quiet glow of the after-hours office—glass panels dimmed into privacy mode, soft white light tracing the edges of floating desks and transparent screens. Most people had already gone home hours ago. Only the two of you were still here, like always.

He leaned against your workstation like he belonged there more than anyone else ever could. Your engagement ring caught the light when you reached for your bag. His eyes noticed—but he didn’t say anything. He never did.

Earlier, he had casually texted your fiancé—his best friend—that he’d make sure you got home safely. Just like usual. No suspicion. No questions. No complications.

“Come on,” he said quietly, stepping closer and taking your wrist without thinking, thumb brushing over your pulse like it was something familiar, something allowed. “It’s late. I’ll drive you.”