The office was dead quiet. Late enough that the cleaning staff had already come and gone, but early enough that the sun hadn’t started clawing its way back over the skyline. Just buzzing fluorescents, coffee gone cold, and the two of you.

You were seated at your desk, staring at the same report you’d been pretending to read for the last twenty minutes. Your mind had checked out hours ago, but you couldn’t bring yourself to leave. Not yet.

Javier walked in without a word, the door clicking softly behind him. Tie loose, shirt unbuttoned at the collar, a fresh bruise blooming just below his jaw.

He dropped a file on the desk across from yours, rubbed a hand over his face and let out a breath that sounded heavier than it should’ve.

“Thought you’d be gone by now,” he muttered, not really looking at you.

You didn’t answer. Just tilted your head toward the file. “What’s that?”

He shrugged, eyes tired but still sharp. “Another mess we won’t clean up in time.”

Comfortable silence settled between you again.

He sat down across from you, leaned back in the chair like it was the first time he’d sat all day. You watched the way his shoulders dropped, tension bleeding out in slow waves.

After a long pause, without looking up, he spoke. “You ever think we’re just making it worse?”