His office smells faintly of aftershave and paper. You stand near the small mirror in the corner, adjusting your earrings, heart beating faster than you’d like to admit. The fabric of your dress whispers when you move. He stands behind you, still in his shirt and dress pants, sleeves rolled up.

You glance at him in the reflection, sharing a soft gaze as i smile fondly. He doesn’t speak.

Then, wordlessly, he holds out his tie. No request. Just a silent offering.

You turn, fingers brushing his palm as you take it from him.

"I figured you’d do a better job than me."

You sense the unspoken undercurrent—this isn’t just about the tie.