The distance didn't reduce.
It sharpened.
By mid day, Bosco had already noticed the pattern.
Again.
Every response from Riyana was:
Short
Formal
Controlled
And most importantly—
Distant in a way that felt deliberate.
"Riyana, send the mail."
"Yes, sir."
"Update the draft."
"Done, sir."
"Sit for the review."
"Okay."
No eye contact.
No extra words.
No presence.
Just… function.
At first, he ignored it.
Then, he observed it.
Now—
It was starting to irritate him.
Not because of work.
But because it didn't make sense.
By afternoon, the irritation turned into something else.
Frustration.
"Riyana."
She stood near his desk, file in hand. "Yes?"
Bosco didn't look at the file.
He looked at her.
"Sit."
"I can stand."
"Sit."
His tone wasn't loud.
But it wasn't optional either.
Riyana hesitated for half a second—
Then sat.
Back straight.
Hands still.
Eyes not meeting his.
Silence stretched.
A few seconds too long.
"What is this?" Bosco asked finally.
She frowned slightly. "What?"
"This," he gestured lightly toward her. "The way you're acting."
"I'm working."
"That's not what I asked."
Riyana exhaled quietly, already tired of this conversation.
"I don't see a problem."
"I do."
That made her look at him.
Briefly.
Then away again.
"You were fine," he continued. "Then suddenly you're… like this."
"Like what?"
"Like I'm just your boss."
A pause.
Then she said—
"You are."
That landed.
Harder than she expected.
Because for the first time—
Bosco didn't respond immediately.
He leaned back slightly, his jaw tightening just a fraction.
"Is that what this is about?" he asked.
"What?"
"You correcting yourself?"
Riyana's fingers curled slightly in her lap.
"I'm just keeping things clear."
"Clear?" he repeated.
"Yes."
"By pretending yesterday didn't happen?"
Her breath hitched—
Just slightly.
But he noticed.
"I already said that was a mistake."
"There it is again," he said, more firmly now. "You keep calling it that."
"Because it was."
"Then why are you reacting like this?"
The question came faster now.
Sharper.
Less controlled.
"I'm not reacting," she said, her tone tightening. "I'm fixing it."
"Fixing what?"
"This," she gestured slightly between them. "Whatever this is."
"And what is it?" he asked.
Riyana went silent.
Because that—
That was exactly what she didn't want to define.
"See?" Bosco said. "You don't even know."
"I don't need to," she replied quickly. "I just need to make sure it doesn't affect anything."
"Too late," he said.
That made her look at him.
Fully this time.
"It already has."
His voice was low.
Controlled.
But there was something under it now.
Something real.
Riyana felt it.
And it made her defensive.
"This is exactly why I don't want this," she said.
"Don't want what?"
"This… unnecessary complication."
Bosco let out a short breath.
"This isn't complicated."
"It becomes complicated," she snapped. "That's how it always works."
The words slipped out—
Before she could stop them.
Silence.
Bosco's expression changed.
Slightly.
But enough.
"Always?" he repeated.
Riyana froze.
She hadn't meant to go there.
Not here.
Not with him.
"It's not about you," she said quickly.
"I didn't say it was."
"But you're making it into something."
"No," he said, his tone firmer now. "You are."
That hit.
"You're the one pulling back," he continued.
"You're the one shutting everything down."
"You're the one acting like normal conversation is some kind of risk."
"Because it is," she said immediately.
The room went still.
That—
That was the first honest thing she had said.
Bosco stared at her.
"What exactly do you think is going to happen?" he asked.
Riyana's heart was racing now.
Too fast.
Too loud.
"You get comfortable," she said, her voice quieter now but no less firm.
"You start trusting it."
"And then it changes."
Her eyes lifted to meet his.
For the first time—
There was no distance.
No wall.
Just something real.
"And I'm not doing that again."
The words hung in the air.
Heavy.
Unavoidable.
Bosco didn't interrupt.
Didn't react immediately.
He just watched her.
Processing.
"So this," he said slowly, "is about something that already happened."
Not a question.
A statement.
Riyana looked away.
That was answer enough.
A long silence followed.
Then—
Something shifted in Bosco.
Not anger.
Not irritation.
Something deeper.
"Fine," he said finally.
The word was calm.
Too calm.
Riyana looked up, slightly confused.
That wasn't the reaction she expected.
"If that's how you want to handle it," he continued, "then do it properly."
Her brows furrowed. "What does that mean?"
"It means," he said, his tone now back to fully controlled, "don't go halfway."
A pause.
Then—
"If you want this to be strictly professional…"
His eyes met hers.
Direct.
Unwavering.
"Then act like it."
The words landed heavier than anything else he had said.
Because this time—
There was distance in his tone too.
Riyana's chest tightened.
She didn't expect that.
Didn't expect him to… agree.
"Understood?" he asked.
A beat passed.
Then she nodded.
"Understood, sir."
And just like that—
Something shifted between them.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
But enough.
Bosco picked up the file in front of him.
"Finish the report."
"I will."
She stood up.
Turned.
Walked out.
No hesitation.
No pause.
No looking back.
But her steps—
They weren't as steady as she wanted them to be.
Back at her desk, she sat down quietly.
Her hands rested still.
But her thoughts—
Weren't.
That's what you wanted.
Distance.
Clarity.
Control.
Then why—
Did it feel like something just… broke?
Across the room, Bosco didn't look up again.
Didn't call her.
Didn't say anything further.
But his jaw remained tight for a long time.
Because for the first time—
He didn't just feel confused.
He felt shut out.
And that—
That didn't sit right with him at all.