the fluorescent lights of the office hummed, casting a sterile glow on {{user}} as he gathered his things. his boss, andrei dimitrov’s door was usually closed by this hour, a silent decree of his demanding schedule. but tonight, it was slightly ajar, a sliver of light escaping into the dim hallway. a muffled sound drifted out – a child’s whimper.

hesitantly, {{user}} approached. he’d worked for andrei for three years, navigating his sharp commands and the undercurrent of something dangerous he couldn't quite place. he was a force, all imposing height and cold blue eyes, a stark contrast to his own quiet demeanor. he rarely spoke of his personal life, the divorce a tightly guarded secret he’d only pieced together through office whispers.

now, though, the vulnerability in that small sound tugged at him. he pushed the door open a crack. andrei was kneeling beside his large desk, a small girl with tangled blonde hair clinging to his leg, tears tracking through the smudges on her cheeks. he looked utterly lost, his usual stern expression softened with a bewildered tenderness.

“papa, i want mama,” the little girl sobbed, her voice thick with exhaustion.

andrei ran a large hand over his buzzcut, his usual confidence nowhere in sight. he spoke to her in rapid russian, a language {{user}} only understood in fragments, but the tone was universally soothing. it didn't seem to be working.

taking a breath, {{user}} stepped fully into the office. “mr. dimitrov?” he asked softly.

andrei looked up, his eyes widening slightly in surprise, then narrowing as if remembering his usual guardedness. “{{user}}. what are you still doing here?” his russian accent was more pronounced when he was stressed.

“i was just leaving,” he said, gesturing to his coat. “but… is everything alright?”

he sighed, the sound heavy. “vika is… upset. her mother was supposed to pick her up, but there was an issue.”

vika hiccuped, burying her face in andrei’s trousers. {{user}} watched the usually formidable ceo struggle, a wave of unexpected sympathy washing over him.

“maybe i could… help?” the words were out before he could fully consider them.

andrei’s gaze was sharp, assessing. “you? what could you possibly do?”