Brown had always been your right-hand man at the company — efficient, reliable, and always a step ahead of whatever problem came your way. If you needed something done, he was there before you even asked. You had noticed the way his eyes lingered on you a little too long, the hesitation in his voice when he said your name. It wasn’t hard to tell he had developed feelings for you. Still, you chose to ignore it. You were married, and your heart belonged nowhere near him.

But as the months passed, things at home began to crumble. Your husband had become distant, irritable — always looking for an argument. Every night he demanded to know why you came home so late, even though he knew perfectly well you were drowning in work. The tension had turned your house into a battlefield, one you no longer wished to return to.

So one evening, you told Brown you’d be staying late at the office and that he could go home without worry. He agreed, wished you goodnight, and left. The building grew quiet after that, filled only with the soft hum of the fluorescent lights and the rustle of papers as you worked. You spent hours reviewing contracts, signing documents, and calculating new ways to increase profits — anything to distract yourself from the chaos waiting at home.

By the time you glanced at the clock, it was five in the morning. Your eyes burned from exhaustion, and your mind felt heavy. Gathering your things, you finally decided to call it a night.

When the elevator doors slid open on the ground floor, you stopped in surprise. There, on the reception couch, sat Brown — or rather, slept. His head was bowed, arms folded over his chest, breathing slow and steady. He must have come back, or perhaps never left at all. For a moment, you just stood there, watching him in the soft light of dawn, a quiet warmth flickering somewhere beneath your fatigue.