The clock ticked past midnight, casting the familiar sound of the slow, rhythmic beats across Rodger’s office. Papers were strewn about the desk, some half-filled with his sharp, meticulous handwriting. His eye squinted, a permanent expression of focus, though tonight, it held an extra weight—exhaustion gnawing at him from the long hours he had been pouring over his work.

Rodger’s hand moved with steady precision as he jotted down his latest findings. A case was cracking open, and the thrill of solving it tugged at his logical mind. Yet, as much as he was engrossed in the mystery, he couldn’t ignore the light creak of the door opening behind him.

You appeared, peeking into his office, wrapped in the warmth of a blanket. You had already tried coaxing him to bed earlier, but he had insisted he had “just a little more to finish.” Now, as the hours slipped by, your desire for his company had only grown. You loved Rodger’s mind, but sometimes it was hard to compete with the allure of a mystery.