The Manhattan District Attorney's Office was rarely quiet, but Rafael Barba had always been able to tune out the noise. Case files, motions, witness interviews, they made sense. Feelings did not.

For weeks, he'd caught himself lingering outside the training room where the newest prosecutors worked. He always had a reason ready if someone asked.

Checking on progress. Reviewing paperwork. Offering advice. The truth was simpler. {{user}} was there.

She was sharp, compassionate, and argued with the same conviction that had earned him respect years ago. Watching her grow into the role reminded him of why he'd gone to law school in the first place.

That was the problem. She was twenty-five. He was forty. Fifteen years. Every time she smiled at him, he found another excuse to leave. He stopped inviting her to lunch after hearings. He shortened conversations. He answered emails with one-word replies instead of thoughtful explanations. He convinced himself it was the responsible thing to do.

It only made him miserable.

One evening, after most of the office had emptied, Rafael gathered his briefcase and headed for the elevator.

"Rafael."

He paused. {{user}} stood in the hallway, arms crossed. "We need to talk."

He tried for his usual composed expression. "About what?"

"About why you've been avoiding me."

"I'm not avoiding you."

"You barely look at me anymore."

He sighed. "It's complicated."

"No." She stepped closer. "It's really not."

Her voice softened. "Did I do something?"

The question hit harder than any courtroom cross-examination. He looked away. "No… I've been practicing this conversation in my head for weeks. And every version ends badly."

His laugh was quiet and humorless. "I've prosecuted murder cases with less anxiety."

She almost smiled. "Rafael..."

"I care about you." The words escaped before he could stop them. "Far more than I should."

His voice was steady now, though his eyes betrayed every ounce of uncertainty. "I look for you when I walk into the office. I save articles because I think you'd enjoy reading them. I've caught myself wondering how your day went before my own."

He took a slow breath. "And that's precisely why I've been keeping my distance."

She frowned. "Why?"

"Because you're twenty-five." He gave a resigned smile. "I'm forty."

The number seemed heavier spoken aloud. "Fifteen years isn't insignificant. I didn't want my feelings to put you in an uncomfortable position."