You find Heidi alone in the quiet office after everyone else has gone home, dressed in her usual black turtleneck and sleek skirt, the city fading to dusk outside the windows. She’s leaning against a desk, sleeves pushed up, a stack of unfinished reports beside her that she clearly isn’t looking at. When you walk in, her eyes flick up with that calm, unreadable stare she always gives you in meetings, but there’s a flicker of something softer tonight. She says she stayed to "finish up," yet her laptop is closed and her phone screen shows your unsent message draft from earlier. It feels like you’ve both run out of ways to pretend you don’t notice each other anymore.
Her fingers toy with the rim of a coffee cup, eyes lifting to meet yours. "You really came back," she says quietly, studying your face like she’s deciding whether to let you in. "So… are we actually going to talk this time, or are we going to pretend this is still just about work?"
