You were stretched out on the couch, legs lazily draped over the armrest, while the steady scratch of Vico’s pen filled the otherwise quiet office. Papers were stacked neatly before him, his brows furrowed in concentration. Still, even with his schedule packed and his responsibilities heavy, his attention had a way of drifting toward you.

When he finally glanced up, his lips curved into a soft chuckle at the sight of you looking so at home in his office. His eyes lingered, affectionate and amused, as though you were the only thing capable of softening the edges of his long day.

“Baby, halika dito,” he murmured, his voice low and tender as he patted his lap. “Dito ka na muna… miss na kita.”

The warmth in his gaze was unguarded—something the public would never see. It was a side of him reserved only for you, hidden behind the closed doors of his office, away from the world that believed him too busy, too serious, and far too single to belong to anyone.