By Thursday afternoon, Maya thought she'd found her rhythm. She had Ethan's schedule memorized, meetings coordinated, and deadlines neatly aligned on her screen. Every moment was planned, professional, efficient—just how she liked it.
But fate, as usual, had other plans.
At 5:27 p.m., just as most employees were packing up, Ethan stepped out of his office, sleeves rolled, tie loose, a faint look of frustration in his eyes. Maya glanced up from her desk, startled by his expression.
"Ms. Hayes," he said, his voice calm but clipped. "We've got a problem."
She straightened instantly. "What kind of problem?"
"The quarterly report. The finance team's numbers don't align with the projections I presented to the board this morning. We need to fix it tonight before the system updates at midnight."
Maya blinked. "Tonight?"
"Yes." His lips curved faintly. "I promise I don't make a habit of keeping my assistants hostage after hours."
She sighed, shutting her laptop with a resigned smile. "I'll make an exception this once."
"Appreciated," Ethan said with a grin that softened his usual composure. "Let's get to it."
---
Hours passed.
The rest of the building emptied, and the glow of city lights replaced daylight. The hum of computers and the occasional rustle of papers were the only sounds left. Maya sat beside Ethan at the long conference table, their laptops open, spreadsheets spread around like battle maps.
"I can't believe this many figures were misfiled," she murmured, massaging her temple.
"Neither can I," Ethan said, leaning over her shoulder to review a chart. "Though I suppose I can't complain. It means I get to keep my best assistant a little longer."
Maya glanced up, her breath catching. He was close—too close. The scent of his cologne, warm and faintly woody, brought back memories she'd spent years trying to bury.
She looked away quickly. "Flattery doesn't make numbers add up faster, Mr. Cole."
He chuckled quietly. "Worth a try."
For the next hour, they worked in silence, the quiet comfort of focus between them. Every so often, Ethan would make a small comment—sometimes about a miscalculated cell, sometimes about her stubborn habit of biting her lip when she concentrated.
"You still do that," he said at one point.
"Do what?"
"Bite your lip when you're thinking," he replied, smiling softly. "You used to do it when you were deciding between dessert flavors, too."
Her pen froze mid-air. "You remember that?"
"I remember everything," he said simply, his gaze steady.
The air between them thickened. Maya quickly looked back to her screen. "Let's focus on the reports, not pastries."
Ethan leaned back, a small, wistful smile tugging at his mouth. "Of course."
---
By nine o'clock, they had corrected most of the inconsistencies. Maya stretched, groaning softly as she rubbed the back of her neck. Ethan noticed immediately.
"Here," he said, standing. "You've been staring at that screen for hours. You need a break."
"I'm fine," she said automatically.
He ignored her protest, walking toward the kitchenette and returning with two steaming mugs. "Coffee. No sugar."
She raised an eyebrow. "You remember how I take it?"
He smiled faintly. "Some things don't change."
She accepted the cup, their fingers brushing lightly. The touch sent a jolt through her—unwelcome, familiar, dangerous.
"Thanks," she murmured, staring into the dark liquid.
Ethan sat across from her, his expression gentler now. "You don't have to prove yourself, you know. You're already doing more than anyone could expect."
"It's not about proving anything," she said quietly. "It's about not repeating mistakes."
His gaze softened. "You mean… me."
She hesitated, then met his eyes. "I mean both of us."
Silence. The kind that said too much.
Ethan leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees. "Maya, about before—about what happened five years ago—"
She cut him off, her tone sharp. "We don't need to talk about that."
"I think we do," he said gently. "Because I never got to explain."
Her hands tightened around the mug. "Explain what? How you disappeared without a word? How you let your family's expectations come before everything we had?"
His jaw tensed, but his voice stayed calm. "That's not how it happened."
"Then how did it happen, Ethan? Because all I remember is waking up one morning to a message saying you couldn't 'do this anymore.'"
He closed his eyes briefly, as if the memory hurt him too. "It wasn't my choice, Maya. My father was sick, and the company was falling apart. I was… pressured into taking over earlier than planned. I didn't want to drag you into that chaos."
"You mean you didn't think I could handle it," she said bitterly.
"That's not true," he replied, his tone firm. "I thought protecting you meant letting you go. I was wrong."
Maya's throat tightened. For a moment, she saw the same boy she'd fallen in love with—ambitious, kind, too self-sacrificing for his own good.
She looked away. "It doesn't matter now. We're different people."
Ethan's voice softened. "Are we?"
She didn't answer.
Outside, the city lights shimmered through the glass, reflections painting patterns across the floor. The quiet between them wasn't heavy anymore—it was alive, charged with unspoken emotion.
Then, from the hallway, a faint crash echoed—followed by the flicker of the office lights.
"What was that?" Maya asked, startled.
Ethan frowned and stood. "Probably the cleaning crew. Or maybe maintenance."
The lights flickered again, then went out completely. Darkness swallowed the room.
Maya gasped. "Oh, perfect. Just what we needed."
"Stay where you are," Ethan said calmly. She heard him move, the faint shuffle of his shoes on the floor. A moment later, the glow of his phone illuminated his face. "Power outage. Backup generator should kick in soon."
"Remind me to file a complaint with building management," she muttered, crossing her arms.
Ethan chuckled. "You always did hate surprises."
"I prefer order," she said, her tone defensive but amused.
"And yet, you fell in love with me," he teased lightly.
The words slipped out before he seemed to realize what he'd said. Silence followed—tense, fragile.
Maya stared at him in the dim glow, her heartbeat loud in her ears. "That was a long time ago," she said softly.
He smiled faintly. "Doesn't feel that long."
Before she could respond, the lights blinked back on, flooding the room in harsh white. They both blinked, caught in the sudden brightness, their closeness undeniable now.
Ethan took a small step back, clearing his throat. "Right. We should… finish the report."
"Yes," Maya said quickly, sitting down again, pretending to focus on her screen.
But her hands shook slightly on the keyboard.
---
By the time they finally wrapped up, it was nearly midnight.
Maya closed her laptop and exhaled. "All done."
Ethan smiled tiredly. "I'll have the team verify in the morning, but this looks solid. You've saved the day, Ms. Hayes."
"I'll add it to my résumé," she said dryly, standing to gather her things.
He laughed quietly, the sound soft and genuine. "I've missed that. Your sarcasm."
She froze for half a second but forced a smile. "I didn't realize it was a highlight of your career."
"It might be now," he said, watching her.
The air between them felt fragile again—like a line neither dared to cross, yet both stood dangerously close to.
When the elevator arrived, Ethan insisted on walking her to the lobby. Outside, the night air was crisp, the city alive with headlights and distant music.
"Thank you for staying late," he said as they stepped to the curb. "I know it wasn't exactly how you planned to spend your evening."
"It's part of the job," she replied, glancing up at him.
"Still," he said softly, "I appreciate it. More than you know."
Their eyes met—steady, warm, and full of everything they weren't saying.
Maya took a slow breath, forcing herself to break the moment. "Goodnight, Mr. Cole."
"Goodnight, Ms. Hayes," he said, his voice low, almost tender.
As she climbed into the waiting cab, Maya glanced back through the window. Ethan still stood there, hands in his pockets, watching her go.
And though she told herself not to care, not to feel anything…
her heart whispered otherwise.