The office had rules.
Unspoken ones.
Invisible lines no one dared to cross.
Ava had learned most of them quickly.
But one thing she hadn't learned—
was how to ignore him.
It started subtly.
So subtle she almost missed it.
"Miss Ava."
She looked up.
He was standing by her desk.
Closer than usual.
"This report," he said, placing a file down, "you overlooked a detail."
Ava frowned slightly, taking the document.
"I checked everything—"
"Page four."
She flipped through it.
Paused.
And there it was.
A small error.
Easy to miss.
"…I didn't see that."
"I know."
Her brows furrowed slightly.
"You knew?"
A pause.
Then—
"I reviewed it before it was submitted."
Ava blinked.
"…You checked my work?"
Silence.
Then—
"Yes."
That shouldn't have meant anything.
A boss reviewing work was normal.
But something about it didn't feel normal.
"You didn't have to," she said quietly.
His gaze lingered on her for a moment.
"…I don't do unnecessary things."
That answer stayed with her.
Long after he walked away.
Later that afternoon—
things changed.
Voices.
Raised.
Sharp.
Ava looked up just in time to see Clara standing near her desk again.
But this time—
she wasn't smiling.
"You sent the wrong file to the client."
Ava blinked.
"No, I didn't—"
"You did."
The surrounding office grew quieter.
People were watching now.
"I double-checked before sending it," Ava said, her voice calm but firm.
Clara crossed her arms.
"Then explain why the client is complaining."
Ava's chest tightened slightly.
That didn't make sense.
"I—"
"Enough."
The room went still.
He was there.
No one had seen him walk in.
But suddenly—
he was standing behind them.
His presence alone was enough to silence everything.
"Sir," Clara said quickly, straightening.
"There's been a mistake—"
"I'm aware."
His voice was calm.
Controlled.
But colder than before.
He stepped forward.
His eyes moved briefly to Ava.
Just for a second.
Then back to Clara.
"The file sent to the client," he said, "was not Miss Ava's version."
Silence.
Clara froze slightly.
"…I don't understand."
"I do."
He reached for the tablet in Clara's hand.
Tapped once.
Then turned the screen toward her.
"Check the timestamp."
Her expression changed.
Just slightly.
But enough.
"You modified the document," he continued, "after she submitted it."
A pause.
Heavy.
"I—maybe there was confusion—"
"No," he said quietly.
"…There wasn't."
The tension in the room tightened.
Ava watched everything.
Heart beating faster.
Not because she was scared.
But because—
he noticed.
He noticed everything.
"Return to your work," he said finally.
Clara nodded quickly.
Left.
Without another word.
The room slowly returned to normal.
But the air—
felt different.
Ava turned toward him.
"…You knew."
He didn't respond immediately.
"You checked my work," she continued softly.
"…and you knew it wasn't me."
His gaze met hers.
"Yes."
A small pause.
Then—
"…Why didn't you say anything earlier?"
Another silence.
"I was waiting."
"For what?"
His expression didn't change.
But his voice lowered slightly.
"To see how you would handle it."
Ava exhaled slowly.
"…And?"
A brief pause.
Then—
"You didn't panic."
Something about the way he said it—
felt like more than an observation.
It felt like approval.
"…You trusted me," she said quietly.
That made him still.
Just for a second.
Then—
"No."
But it wasn't convincing.
Ava tilted her head slightly.
"…You're a terrible liar."
A beat.
Then—
something unexpected happened.
He stepped closer.
Not aggressively.
Not intentionally.
Just… closer.
"You're becoming comfortable again," he said.
Her breath slowed.
But she didn't move away.
"Maybe I am," she replied.
Silence.
But it wasn't empty.
It was full of everything they weren't saying.
Everything they were trying not to feel.
Then—
without warning—
his hand moved.
Not to touch her.
But to reach past her.
Too close.
His fingers brushed lightly against the edge of her desk—
just beside her hand.
But the distance—
was gone.
Ava felt it.
That sudden awareness.
That quiet tension.
That moment that lasted just a second too long.
"…Be careful," he said softly.
Her eyes lifted to his.
"…Of what?"
A pause.
Then—
"People here don't like what they don't understand."
Her heart tightened slightly.
"…And what don't they understand?"
His gaze didn't leave hers.
"You."
Silence.
Then—
before she could respond—
he stepped back.
Distance.
Again.
Walls.
Again.
"Focus on your work," he said, voice returning to normal.
And just like that—
the moment was gone.
But Ava knew something now.
Something she couldn't ignore.
He didn't just see her.
He was watching her.
Protecting her.
And worst of all—
he was starting to care.
Even if he refused to admit it.
And somehow…
so was she.