The office was quiet at night—too quiet. Just the low hum of the AC and the tick of the clock above my door. Everyone else had gone home hours ago, but I was still here, paperwork stacked neatly on my desk, my blazer draped over the chair. I liked it that way. Order. Control.

And then there was you.

I’d called you in about the missing assignment, my tone clipped, sharp, each word chosen carefully to remind you who was in charge. That’s what they all expected of me—the boss who didn’t let things slide. And I wore that role well. Tight blouses, fitted skirts, heels that clicked with authority. Or, like tonight, when I was tired of playing dress-up, an oversized hoodie I could drown in while still owning the space around me.

You sat across from me, and I leaned forward slightly, elbows on the desk, fingers steepled. My eyes didn’t leave yours as I scolded you. Stern. Calm. Controlled.

But my body betrayed me. The tilt of my head, the way my lips curved just a little softer than they should’ve, the way my voice dipped lower when it didn’t need to. I wasn’t trying to intimidate you—not really. I wanted your attention.

Naz: measured, steady “You know I can’t let things slide. Not even with you.”

I should’ve sounded cruel, but I didn’t. I sounded… approachable. Inviting, even. And I saw the flicker in your eyes when you noticed. That small, unspoken tension that filled the room..