The office was eerily quiet when Ethan arrived Monday morning, the kind of stillness that made the air feel heavier. He was early, but he needed the extra time. Lila's expectations weren't just high—they were practically stratospheric.
As he approached his desk, he noticed her office door slightly ajar. Strange. Lila was the type to keep everything closed and controlled, much like herself. Curiosity tugged at him, and before he could think better of it, he knocked softly and peeked in.
"Lila?"
She was standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows, her silhouette outlined against the pale light of dawn. She was out of her usual armor—no blazer, no perfect updo. Her hair fell loose around her shoulders, and she was barefoot, her heels abandoned near the desk. For a moment, Ethan was struck silent. She looked… human.
Her head turned sharply at his voice, her gaze narrowing. "What are you doing here so early?"
Ethan stepped inside hesitantly. "I could ask you the same thing."
"I don't owe you an explanation," she said, though her voice lacked its usual bite.
Ethan chuckled softly, closing the door behind him. "You know, I'm starting to think you don't sleep."
She smirked faintly, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Sleep is overrated."
He moved closer, stopping a few feet away. "You don't always have to keep the armor on, you know."
Her brows lifted, and she crossed her arms. "What are you talking about?"
"This," Ethan said, gesturing toward her. "You. The perfect suit, the sharp words, the constant need to prove you're untouchable. It's exhausting just watching you. I can't imagine what it's like living it."
Lila's expression hardened, and she took a step closer, her voice a low warning. "Careful, Ethan."
But he didn't back down. Instead, he met her gaze head-on, his voice softening. "I'm just saying you don't always have to be her. The world won't end if you let someone in."
The tension between them crackled like a live wire. Lila's eyes locked onto his, and for a moment, her guarded mask slipped. There was something raw there—vulnerability, fear, maybe even longing. But just as quickly, she pulled it back into place.
"You don't know what you're talking about," she said, turning away. "And even if you did, it doesn't matter."
Ethan took a step closer, his voice barely above a whisper. "Why doesn't it matter?"
"Because," she said, spinning to face him, "this isn't some fairy tale where you save me, Ethan. This is business. I hired you to do a job, not to psychoanalyze me."
Her words were sharp, but they didn't have the same sting as before. Ethan could see through them now, see the cracks in her carefully constructed walls.
"I'm not trying to save you," he said softly. "I just… I see you. The real you. And I think you're more than you let yourself be."
For a moment, the space between them felt impossibly small. Lila's lips parted as if she were about to say something, but no words came. The silence stretched, heavy with unspoken truths.
Then, as if realizing how close they were, she stepped back, her walls slamming back into place. "Go," she said, her voice trembling ever so slightly. "Get to work."
Ethan hesitated, his eyes searching hers for any hint of the vulnerability he'd just glimpsed. But she was unreadable once more, a fortress of control. With a small nod, he turned and left, closing the door softly behind him.
Inside her office, Lila let out a shaky breath, her fingers brushing against the windowsill. She could still feel the weight of his gaze, the warmth of his presence lingering in the air. And for the first time in a very long time, she wasn't sure if she was strong enough to push him away.