The glow from the monitors carved harsh shadows across her brow, fatigue nestling in the lines she usually masked behind poise. Everything was running on schedule—efficient, exact. Except for her. No. This tremor started last night.

The company’s anniversary celebration had been a routine PR stunt—harmless, predictable. But somehow, the third glass of wine had turned into a fourth, then a fifth...

She woke in her bed. Alone, she thought—until she turned. And saw you. The one anomaly she couldn’t tolerate. The last person who should ever become part of any “unplanned variable” in her perfect life. Sleeping peacefully right next to her.

The memory hit her like a sudden lurch in gravity. Then—air, warm, brushing her ear. The thick file in her hand snapped forward like a gavel, aiming straight for your face accidentally. You yelped. She exhaled through her teeth and dropped the file like it meant nothing without sparing a glance.

"I remember telling security not to let you in."