A short message from Noah popped up on her phone.
Might be pretty late tonight. Sorry. Eat without me.
Celeste set the phone down and glanced at the clock.
6:10 p.m.
An hour later, she was stepping quietly into the Langley Press team's office, a tote bag of dinner in hand.
"Oh—hello!"
"W-wait… M-Madam Chairwoman?!"
The veteran reporters—
Noah's direct team—
were usually unflappable, but seeing her appear out of nowhere knocked the composure right out of them.
Celeste smiled politely, the kind of calm, practiced smile that still managed to feel warm.
"Please, don't mind me. Keep working—but eat first."
She held up the bag in both hands, and a chorus of gasps broke out.
"Beef bowls… and tarts?!"
"When did you even make all this? Thank you so much!"
They were halfway to the break room when the editor-in-chief's door swung open.
"What's with all the noise? Don't you people have—"
Noah stepped out, sleeves rolled, glasses on, and froze.
The rest of his sentence vanished.
"…Wow."
For a moment, he just stared at her like he'd forgotten where he was.
Then, slowly, a crooked smile appeared.
"Didn't expect to see you here at all… Feels so damn good, but I can't even think of a word for it."
She smothered a laugh.
"You talk too much. Come on—get inside. I've got something to say. And yes, I brought dinner for both of us."
As she turned, she addressed the team over her shoulder.
"Noah talks about you all the time. Because of you, I can always trust the media team. If you ever need anything, just tell him."
The reporters lit up like kids being handed front-row tickets.
"You're amazing, Madam Chairwoman…"
"Chief!! I'm so jealous!"
"Thank you!"
The door clicked shut behind them.
Noah took a step forward, crowding her gently back toward the wall.
Sliding his glasses off, he kissed her—firm but unhurried.
"Why do you keep doing these cute little things? You're making it impossible to focus on work."
"Then don't come over?" she teased.
"…No. Come every day. Please."
She laughed, pushing lightly at his shoulder."Sit. Before it gets cold."
Under the soft office light, they opened the bentos.
Steam curled up, carrying the sweet scent of beef.
"You packed a lot,"
Noah murmured.
"Did you spend all day making this?"
"You think I'd waste a whole day just on lunchboxes? You really think my cooking's that bad?"
He paused with his chopsticks halfway up, just looking at her.
"…I swear, I almost lost it today."
"Why?"
"All I wanted was to ditch everything and come see you."
She smirked.
"God, listen to you…"
She tilted her head toward his mouth.
"You've got sauce—right there."
"Where?"
He reaches up to wipe it, but she stops him and brushes it away herself.
The brief touch made his breath catch.
"…That's cheating."
"What is?"
"I almost flipped the table just now."
"Ugh, eat your food."
Noah's eyes glinted.
"You've got some too."
"Where?"
"Here—"
He wipes it with his lips instead.
"Mm… tastes good. Can't wait to finish work and keep eating."
"Ugh… I feel like I've got five hundred butterflies in my stomach."
He smirked.
"Say that again and I really will flip this table."
The playful tone was still there, but his gaze had gone darker.
"…Alright, calm down."
She nudged his shoulder.
"There are people outside. You're still on the clock, remember?"
Noah frowned faintly, then let out a breath and smothered a grin.
"…Fine. I'll let you off tonight."
"Thank you for your mercy, Chief Editor."
"Oh, but after work—"
"What?"
"I'm sprinting to the 15th floor in ten seconds flat. Don't you dare fall asleep. You're taking responsibility."
"God… you're unbelievable."
She shook her head, laughing, though her cheeks had gone warm.
The air between them settled into quiet again.
On the table, the bentos still let off a gentle steam—
and beneath it, the heat they'd been holding back lingered,
waiting for later… ready to rise again, slow and sure.