And I don’t like it.
I lean back in my chair, eyes drifting to the glass window again, even though I already know what I’ll see. Her office light is still on. Has been for far too long. One solitary square of brightness in an otherwise dark building.
I was supposed to leave an hour ago. Siddhant had called earlier, something about coming over at Rudra’s, about Rudrani probably letting us watch half the match before kicking us out, and I’d said yeah, sure, fifteen minutes. That was…an hour ago.
I could have left. Nothing was stopping me.
Except the fact that there is not a single other soul in that building right now.
Security is downstairs. Cleaning staff left ages ago. Everyone else went home like normal, sensible human beings. Everyone except her.
And me.
And somehow, that doesn’t sit right with me.
I shut my laptop with a quiet click and stand, grabbing my phone and keys. I tell myself I’m not hovering. I’m not being overbearing. I’m being responsible. She’s new. She doesn’t know the building rhythms yet, even though I know she literally has the building plans and might know it better than me. But she probably lost track of time—which, knowing her, is very likely. When she works, she disappears into it completely. I’ve seen that enough times in the last week to recognize the pattern.
Still.
Who the hell wants to work overtime when the boss isn’t even asking for it?
I step out of my office and walk down the corridor, my footsteps echoing softly against the floor. I take the elevator and exit the building going to the building next door, where she is, all alone. The closer I get to her space, the more the quiet presses in on me. There’s something intimate about empty offices at night—too much space, too little noise. Everything feels amplified.
I stop at her door and lean against the frame without announcing myself.
And for a second, I just…watch.
She’s barefoot.
Shoes discarded near the desk like they offended her personally. Her red hair is pulled up into a messy bun, loose strands escaping around her face, a pencil stuck haphazardly through it like she shoved it there without thinking. Her sleeves are rolled up, ink smudged faintly on one wrist. Papers are spread across the desk and floor, sketches layered over each other like she kept changing her mind and refusing to throw anything away.
She rolls her head slowly, stretching her neck, wincing slightly like it aches—which, honestly, wouldn’t surprise me. She’s been hunched over drawings all day. Probably hasn’t moved properly in hours.
The sight does something to me. Something quiet and unsettling.
“Do you want me to get arrested?” I ask, my voice breaking the silence.
She jumps. Actually jumps. A sharp gasp leaves her mouth, her hand flying straight to her chest as she spins around to face me.
“What the fuck?” she blurts out off guard.
I straighten from the doorframe, shaking my head as I step inside. “Language, my lady,” I say lightly, even though my heart stutters for half a second at how genuinely startled she looks. “You didn’t even realize I was standing there, did you?”
She exhales sharply, still clutching her chest. “Are you insane?” she snaps. “You scared the life out of me.”
“Exactly my point,” I reply, walking closer. I stop a step away from her desk, then lean down just enough so we’re at eye level. Her gaze flicks to mine and stays there, a little too still. “It’s almost midnight. Way past office timings. Do you plan to pull an overnight?”
She gulps.
I see it. The small movement of her throat. The way her shoulders tense.
“Um…I’m just leaving,” she stutters, already reaching for her things.
I can’t help the chuckle that slips out. “You’re a dream employee, you know that?” I say, straightening up again. “Working so hard without any sense of time. You must really love doing this.”
She pauses, fingers closing around a notebook. “I do,” she admits quietly.
There’s no hesitation in her voice. No sarcasm. Just the truth.
