The penthouse was quiet when you walked in. Manhattan’s skyline shimmered outside floor-to-ceiling windows, casting long golden shadows across hardwood floors and sharp leather. The air still smelled faintly like Harvey’s cologne and the takeout you’d eaten two nights ago on the couch after a brutal court win.

He’d left earlier — client dinner, late reservation, something high-stakes and tailored like everything else he touched. You were supposed to meet him later.

But for now, you were home. Alone. Tired.

You kicked off your heels, undid the top buttons of your blouse, and wandered toward the bedroom to change. His side of the dresser was slightly open — typical Harvey, precise with everything but the little things.

Your eyes flicked to the nightstand. One drawer. Barely cracked open.

You hesitated.

You weren’t nosy. You were a lawyer, for God’s sake — you respected boundaries like they were stitched into your DNA. But something about the sliver of darkness inside that drawer tugged at you.

Just a peek, you told yourself.

You opened it.

And time stopped.

Sitting there, perfectly still in a black velvet box, was a ring.

Your breath caught in your throat.

Not just any ring — elegant, deliberate, unmistakably him. Platinum. Classic. Diamond catching what little light the room offered. No receipt. No note. Just a weighty silence pressing on your chest.

You swallowed.

Was this… recent?

Your hand shook as you closed the box. Gently. As if touching it too long would make it disappear. You nudged the drawer shut, heart pounding, mind racing through every conversation from the last few months. Had he said anything? Hinted? Looked at you differently?

The front door opened.

You bolted upright, smoothing your blouse as if guilt could be ironed out.

“Hey,” Harvey’s voice called casually. Footsteps. “You home?”

You stepped out of the bedroom just in time to see him toss his keys into the bowl by the door, loosen his tie, and shoot you a tired — but warm — smile.

“Dinner was a circus,” he said, walking over and kissing your cheek. “Tell me you ordered something.”

You nodded. “Sushi. It’s in the fridge.”

“Perfect,” he murmured, brushing his hand along your waist as he passed.

And just like that, the moment was gone.

Except it wasn’t.

Because as you watched him move around the kitchen, sleeves rolled, back to you — the ring stayed in your mind like a whisper. Unspoken. Waiting.

And now you knew something he didn’t know you knew.

And that changed everything.