I didn't even realize when the room had gone quiet again.
It wasn't the same kind of silence as before—not full, not thoughtful.
This one felt… interrupted.
Shifted.
Like something had just entered the space without warning.
I felt it before I saw it.
Or maybe—before I heard him.
"So, you figured out Vikran is the right one."
Chak's voice.
Right behind me.
Low. Even. Controlled.
But it cut clean through everything.
My grip tightened slightly around the pen in my hand, my back straightening instinctively as I turned just enough to see him from the corner of my eye.
He wasn't looking at me.
Of course he wasn't.
His gaze was on Anamarija.
And somehow… the entire room shifted around that.
Anamarija didn't react immediately.
She didn't flinch. Didn't rush to answer.
She just looked at him for a second—calm, unreadable—before her lips curved ever so slightly.
"Maybe."
Just that.
Light.
Effortless.
But not careless.
Chak held her gaze for a second longer, something unreadable passing through his expression before it smoothed out again, as if nothing about that answer mattered.
As if he hadn't just asked at all.
Then—
Anamarija moved.
She stood up without hurry, brushing her hands lightly against her clothes, her posture as composed as ever.
"I think my brother doesn't like that we're talking during working hours," she said lightly, her tone almost teasing, though her eyes flickered toward Chak for just a second.
There was no reaction from him.
At least—nothing obvious.
She didn't wait for one.
Instead, she stepped forward, closing the distance between herself and the rest of us, and one by one—
she hugged them.
Amara first, then Non, even Pim and the last me.
Natural.
Warm.
Like nothing heavy had just passed through the room.
For a brief second, something softer crossed her expression.
"See you tonight, Niran."
I nodded before I could think too much about it.
"Yeah."
It came out quieter than I expected.
By the time I looked again, Vikran was already beside her.
Close.
Not touching—
but close enough that it didn't need to be.
They didn't say much as they left.
They didn't need to.
The door closed behind them with a soft click.
And just like that—
the room exhaled.
For exactly one second.
"In my office. Now."
Chak.
I didn't even have time to react before his next words followed, sharper, colder:
"The rest of you—get back to work."
Chairs shifted. Papers moved. The air reset.
Like nothing personal had ever existed here.
Like everything was exactly how it should be.
I stood up.
My legs felt steady.
More than steady.
Too steady.
I didn't look at anyone as I walked past them.
Didn't think.
Didn't speak.
Just followed him.
---
The walk to his office felt longer than usual.
Or maybe it just felt that way because I was suddenly… too aware.
Of him.
Of everything.
He didn't say a word the entire time.
Didn't slow down.
Didn't look back.
And I didn't try to catch up.
I just followed.
Like always.
The moment we stepped inside, the door shut behind me with a quiet, final sound.
A second later—
a sharp click.
Locked.
I barely had time to turn.
He was already there.
Close.
Too close.
His hand caught my arm, firm, pulling me forward until my back hit the door—not hard, but enough to stop me completely.
My breath caught—
but I didn't resist.
I never did.
His other hand came up, bracing beside my head, trapping me there for just a second—
one second—
where everything hung between us.
Tension.
Heat.
Everything we didn't say outside.
And then—
he kissed me.
No hesitation.
No control.
Not like before.
This wasn't careful.
It wasn't measured.
It was everything he hadn't shown out there—
pressed into a single moment.
And I kissed him back just as quickly.
Like I had been waiting for it.
Like I didn't care.
Because I didn't.
Not about the office.
Not about the walls.
Not about who might hear.
Nothing mattered except the way his hand tightened slightly at my side, pulling me closer as the kiss deepened, as if distance wasn't something he could tolerate right now.
We moved without thinking.
Without breaking.
Step by step, the space between us shifting as he guided me further into the room, the edge of the desk hitting the back of my thighs before I even registered how far we had gone.
My fingers caught briefly in his shirt, holding on, grounding myself as my breath faltered for just a second—
and that was all it took.
He lifted me.
Effortless.
Like it wasn't even a question.
The world tilted for half a second before I was sitting on the desk, his presence immediately filling the space between my legs, his hands still firm, still there.
The kiss didn't stop.
Didn't slow.
If anything—it only deepened.
Messier now.
Less controlled.
Like neither of us cared about holding back anymore.
My lungs burned before I finally pulled back just enough to breathe, my forehead almost brushing his as I tried to steady it.
He didn't move far.
Didn't let me.
His breath was just as uneven.
His gaze locked on mine.
Dark.
Intense.
Too much.
I lifted my hand slowly, pressing a single finger gently against his lips, stopping him just before he could close the distance again.
For a second—
neither of us moved.
"I love you."
The words came out quiet.
But steady.
No hesitation.
No fear.
Just truth.
Right there between us.
For a second—
nothing moved.
Not him.
Not me.
Not even the air between us.
My finger was still resting against his lips, and I could feel the warmth of his breath against my skin, uneven, controlled only by effort.
Chak didn't pull away.
He didn't speak.
But something in his gaze shifted.
Subtle—
almost invisible—
and yet it hit harder than anything else.
His hand tightened slightly at my waist, like he needed something real to hold on to, something that wouldn't disappear if he let go for even a second.
Slowly, deliberately, he turned his head just enough for his lips to brush against my finger.
Not a kiss.
Not quite.
But close enough that my breath caught again.
Then his hand came up, wrapping gently—but firmly—around my wrist, guiding my hand away from his mouth.
Not pushing it away.
Just… moving it.
Creating space.
Not distance.
Never distance.
His eyes stayed on mine the entire time.
Searching.
Reading.
Like he was trying to decide something.
Or maybe—
like he already had.
"You shouldn't say things like that here."
His voice was low.
Controlled again.
But not cold.
Never cold.
There was something underneath it—
something heavier.
My chest tightened slightly.
"Why?" I asked quietly.
I didn't look away.
Didn't pull back.
"If someone hears?" I added, softer.
His jaw shifted almost imperceptibly.
Not denial.
Not confirmation.
Just tension.
"That's not the point."
His thumb brushed once against my side, absent, distracted—like his body wasn't fully listening to the restraint his words were trying to hold.
"Then what is?" I pushed, just as quietly.
A mistake.
Maybe.
Or maybe not.
Because this—
this was the moment.
And I wasn't stepping back from it.
His gaze darkened slightly, his grip tightening just enough to make it clear I had crossed into something he couldn't ignore.
For a second, I thought he wouldn't answer.
That he'd pull away.
Reset.
Go back to being the version of himself that existed outside this room.
But he didn't.
Instead, he leaned in again.
Close enough that his forehead almost touched mine, his voice dropping even lower, like the words weren't meant to exist beyond the space between us.
"Because I won't pretend I didn't hear it."
My breath caught.
"And once you say it—" he continued, quieter now, "—I don't get to ignore it. Even here."
There it was.
Not rejection.
Not avoidance.
Something else.
Something more dangerous.
My fingers curled slightly against the edge of the desk beneath me.
"Good," I whispered.
The word slipped out before I could stop it.
Before I could soften it.
Because I didn't want him to ignore it.
I didn't want him to pretend.
Not anymore.
His eyes flickered.
Just for a second.
Surprise—
quickly replaced by something deeper.
Warmer.
And that control—
that perfect, unbreakable control—
cracked.
Just a little.
His hand slid up from my waist to my back, pulling me closer again, closing whatever space had managed to exist between us.
"You don't make this easy," he murmured.
There was no accusation in it.
Just truth.
I leaned in without thinking, my forehead finally resting lightly against his.
"I'm not trying to."
A quiet exhale left him, almost like a laugh—but not quite.
For a second, neither of us moved.
No urgency this time.
No rush.
Just—
presence.
Then his hand came up, fingers brushing lightly along my jaw before tilting my head just slightly.
Gentler now.
Slower.
But no less certain.
And when he kissed me again—
it wasn't the same as before.
Still intense.
Still deep.
But there was something else in it now.
Something steadier.
Something that stayed.
Like the words I had just said weren't just hanging between us anymore—
they had settled.
And neither of us was trying to push them away.
His lips were still on mine when something shifted.
Not the feeling.
Not the pull between us.
Just—him.
Chak broke the kiss first.
Not abruptly.
But decisively.
Like he knew exactly where the line was—and chose the moment to step back from it.
For a second, he stayed close, his forehead almost brushing mine, his breath still uneven against my skin.
Then he exhaled quietly… and stepped back just enough to look at me properly again.
That control—
it was back.
Not fully.
But enough.
He reached for a document on his desk without looking away from me, his movements smooth, composed, like nothing had just happened between us.
Like he hadn't just—
My chest tightened slightly.
He held the papers out to me.
"Make three copies of this."
His tone was calm.
Professional.
Too normal.
"And bring them back as soon as you can."
A small pause.
Then, just slightly lower—
just for me:
"We'll continue… on the couch."
My breath caught again despite myself.
Like it was just another task.
Like it didn't mean anything more.
But it did.
I knew it.
He knew it.
And the way his gaze held mine for just a second longer before letting go—
said enough.
I slid off the desk, taking the document from his hand, my fingers brushing his briefly in the process.
Intentional.
Just enough.
Before I stepped past him.
But not without stopping.
Just for a second.
I leaned in quickly, pressing a soft, fleeting kiss to his cheek.
Light.
Almost innocent.
But not really.
"Okay," I murmured.
Then I pulled back before he could react—before I could think too much about it—and turned toward the door.
My hand was already on the handle when I felt it again.
His gaze.
On me.
Heavy.
Present.
I didn't look back.
I just opened the door and stepped out into the hallway, the shift from that room hitting me instantly.
Cooler.
Quieter.
Normal.
But my heartbeat—
was anything but.
The document felt almost too light in my hand as I walked toward the copier, trying to steady my breathing, to bring myself back into focus.
Three copies.
That was all.
Simple.
Routine.
Except—
nothing felt routine anymore.