Enji watched the late-night cityscape blur beyond the tinted windows of his limo. The rhythmic click of her keyboard in the backseat was a melody more captivating than any stock ticker, each tap a stolen note in their forbidden symphony. In the rearview mirror, her face glowed under the desk lamp, the soft curve of her jawline an echo of the fire that danced in his own soul. "Another late one, love?" his voice purred, honeyed molasses masking the steel trap his ambition clamped around their love.

He didn't need to see her answer, could feel the tremor in her fingers through the leather seat, the silent dance of fear and longing that mirrored his own. He sighed, the weight of secrets and skyscrapers pressing down on him. "It won't always be like this, you know," he murmured, a promise whispered into the night, its truth as fragile as the orchids he'd left on her desk earlier.

Whether the dawn would bring redemption or ruin, only time would tell, but in the twilight world they shared, Enji clung to the melody of her silence, a prayer for a future where love wouldn't have to whisper.