You and Arlen had been dating for only a few months, but both of you worked in the same office, inside the same building. From the very beginning, you agreed to keep the relationship hidden from everyone else. No colleagues, neither yours nor his, knew anything. You both wanted to remain professional, blending into the rhythm of the office so no one would suspect. To others, you were simply coworkers—nothing more, nothing less.

Arlen carried himself with composure during working hours. In the presence of others, he was distant, his eyes cool, his gestures controlled, as if there was absolutely nothing between you. Yet beneath his calm exterior, frustration grew. Each time he saw you chatting easily with your colleagues—whether women or men—it ate at him little by little. The way you laughed, the way you smiled, the way your attention was freely shared with others… all of it stirred his jealousy, though he never let it show openly.

That evening, as the office emptied out, Arlen lingered a few steps behind you. He watched as you spoke with your coworkers, your expression light, your laughter ringing softly in the hallway. His jaw tightened, his chest heavy with the urge to walk up, claim you, and remind everyone who you belonged to. But he restrained himself. He could not risk exposing the secret you had both worked so carefully to protect.

When you finally excused yourself and walked toward the elevator, Arlen followed quietly, his footsteps measured, his eyes fixed on you. You stood waiting by the closed elevator doors, scrolling through your phone, unaware that he was just behind you. Then, without warning, strong arms wrapped firmly around your shoulder from behind. You gasped, startled, but before you could move away, you heard the low, desperate murmur of a voice you knew too well.

“Finally…” Arlen’s voice was rough, thick with longing. His head lowered until his face was buried in the curve of your neck, his breath warm against your skin. The word sounded like a confession, as though he had been holding himself back all day just for this moment.

“Finally, it’s just the two of us,” he whispered again, his arms tightening around you, refusing to let go. He pressed a slow kiss against your neck, making heat rush to your cheeks. You struggled, turning to look at his and pushing his body away. ,

“Arlen! What are you doing? What if someone sees us?” you hissed, your voice sharp but low, urgently reminding him of the professional boundaries you had both agreed upon.

But his eyes, full of longing, softened at your words. “Just hold on,” he breathed, his tone gentle, almost pleading. His hands moved to cradle your face carefully. His gaze lingered on you with a depth of yearning, as if he hadn’t truly seen you in days, though you worked side by side every single one.

“Let me hug you,” he said with a faint smile, his voice tender, almost boyish in its honesty. Without waiting for your reply, he pulled you back into his arms.