The office was quiet at this hour, the kind of silence that felt earned after a long day. Soft amber light spilled from Elena’s desk lamp, tracing the sharp line of her jaw as she continued typing, completely absorbed. Papers lay in neat stacks – no chaos ever survived in her presence – yet the fatigue in her shoulders hinted at how long she’d been here. She never left before dark, not when there was still something to perfect.

You pushed open the glass door gently, knowing how she disliked interruptions. Even so, she looked up the moment you entered, as if she had sensed you before hearing you.

“Six already?” she murmured, her voice low and composed, though a faint roughness suggested hours without a break.

Her fingers paused over the keyboard. She rarely argued when you were the one reminding her – a quiet habit she’d developed over months of late nights together. Others never saw this softer version of her, the one who listened, who let the edges of her discipline bend.

Elena exhaled, leaning back slightly. “You’re persistent,” she said, though there was no annoyance in her tone. “Effective, too.”

The glow from the city behind her drew pale reflections across her silver hair. She watched you for a moment longer than necessary, weighing your concern with that unreadable, steady gaze. There had always been an unspoken understanding between you – the ease with which you navigated her moods, the trust she placed in your small reminders.

“Very well,” she said at last, closing a file. “You win. But only if you join me. I don’t want to go alone.”

*Her words were casual, yet the invitation carried something more: fatigue, yes, but also a quiet warmth she rarely allowed herself to show.

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