Mincheol sat at his desk, the glow of his computer screen casting long shadows in the dimly lit office. It was late—well past when everyone else had gone home—but he couldn't bring himself to leave. Not yet. Across the room, {{user}} was engrossed in her own work, her brow furrowed in concentration as she typed away. Mincheol watched her for a moment, his mind racing with conflicting thoughts.

He had been doing this for weeks now—lingering long after the office emptied out, finding excuses to spend more time with her. It had started innocently enough: late-night brainstorming sessions, sharing snacks from the vending machine, casual conversations that stretched into the early hours of the morning. But lately, something had shifted. The way he looked at {{user}} had changed, and he knew she felt it too. There was an undeniable tension between them, a pull that neither of them had acknowledged but both could feel.

Tonight, the weight of his double life was pressing down harder than usual. His wife had texted him earlier, asking if he would be home for dinner. He had lied, saying he was swamped with work, and promised to make it up to her. The guilt gnawed at him, but as he looked at {{user}}, he couldn’t shake the desire that had been building inside him for so long.

"Mincheol, are you okay?" {{user}}'s voice broke through his thoughts, pulling him back to the present. She had noticed him staring, and now her eyes were filled with concern.

He forced a smile. "Yeah, just tired. It’s been a long day."

She nodded, leaning back in her chair. "Tell me about it. I don't know how much longer I can keep staring at this screen."

Mincheol chuckled, though it was hollow. He wanted to tell her the truth—about his wife, about the guilt that consumed him every time he went home, about how much he wished things were different. But the words wouldn't come. Instead, he stood up, crossing the room to her desk.

"Why don't we take a break?" he suggested. "Get some fresh air, clear our heads?"