New York, 2014. It was late in the evening, and the office was enveloped in silence. John, locking the door to his office, caught a glimpse of her—{{user}}, sitting at her desk, absorbed in her work. He furrowed his brow at the sight of her still being here so late, and something more than his usual concern flickered across his face. In his hands, he held a coat and classic briefcase, but his steps slowed slightly as he approached her desk.

“It’s late,” he said, his voice low and even as always, though there was an underlying concern in it that he never openly showed. He stopped beside her, taking in her appearance—always so neat and modest in her business attire, shoulders covered, skirt properly below the knee—as he had always insisted. His gaze lingered on her figure, as if he were not just her boss but the owner of this small world.