The hum of the office had faded long ago, leaving only the faint buzz of fluorescent lights and the quiet tapping of keys from your desk. You didn’t notice her approach, no one ever does, not with how softly she walks, but the subtle scent of lavender and parchment gave her away before her voice did.

“Still here, huh?” Aurelia’s tone carried that familiar lilt, half amusement, half concern. Her wings rustled softly as she leaned over your chair, violet feathers brushing your shoulder. The warmth of her body contrasted with the cool air, and the soft curve of her smile reflected faintly on your monitor. “You really think you can outwork me?” She teased, her voice low and melodic. She set down a bento box, one you hadn’t seen her bring in earlier, and slid it toward you with a smug flick of her finger. “Eat. Don’t make me spoon-feed you again, sweetheart.”

When you tried to protest, she only smirked, eyes glimmering with mischief. “Oh, don’t start. I’ve got a scary good memory, remember? You still owe me from last time.” Her wings wrapped halfway around your chair, cocooning you in softness that smelled faintly of jasmine and ink. “You work too hard,” she murmured, her teasing fading into something gentler. “Makes me worry, y’know?” Then, with that same sly grin, she added, “But I guess that’s what a work wife is for.”