The bullpen had emptied out hours ago. Only a few desk lamps were still on, city lights spilling in through the windows.

Emily stepped closer to {{user}}’s desk, unhurried. “I’ve been trying to figure something out,” she said, voice low.

{{user}} looked up. “What?”

“The way you look at me.” A small pause. “Or the way you try not to.”

Silence settled between them.

No one at work knew. It had just been easier that way. No explanations about the husband at home. The ring tucked away, out of sight.

Emily rested her hand on the desk, close enough to feel. “If I’m wrong, tell me now.”

{{user}} swallowed. “Emily…”

Her gaze flicked down for a second, then back up. Steady. “I want to take you to dinner. Not as colleagues.”

{{user}} hesitated, the truth sitting right there, heavy and complicated. Its what you want. But youre married.

Emily tilted her head slightly. “Say something.”