She closed her office door and leaned back against it for a brief moment.
Just a moment.
That was all she allowed herself.
The day had been controlled. Efficient. Predictable. Exactly how she preferred it. And yet, the quiet afterward felt louder than the meetings ever did.
She moved to her desk and sat, straightening the folder he had brought earlier even though it didn't need it. A habit. Order where she could find it.
She had noticed everything.
The way he arrived early.The way he didn't mention the rain.The way he kept his distance without being cold.
That restraint unsettled her more than anything else.
Most people crossed lines without realizing it. They pushed. They hinted. They tested boundaries with smiles and excuses.
He hadn't.
And that was the problem.
She opened her laptop, intending to review contracts, but her focus slipped. Her thoughts drifted back to the car. The rain. The silence that had felt heavier than words.
She shouldn't have offered the ride.
She knew that.
It had been impulse—rare, dangerous. A moment of concern overriding discipline. She prided herself on not doing things like that.
She stood and walked to the window.
The city stretched out below, endless and indifferent. It reminded her why she had built her life the way she had. Clear rules. No attachments that complicated decisions.
And yet, something had changed.
Not because of what happened.
Because of how carefully nothing had.
She exhaled slowly.
She was older.She was his superior.She was responsible for his career.
She had reminded him of that today. Reminded herself too.
Still, when she had said "Let's keep it that way," part of her had wondered if she was convincing him—or herself.
Her phone buzzed with a notification. Work-related. Harmless.
She ignored it.
Instead, she thought of the way he had said "I understand" without turning around. No resentment. No disappointment. Just acceptance.
That acceptance stayed with her longer than it should have.
She straightened, professionalism settling back into place.
Nothing would happen.
She would make sure of it.
But as she turned off the lights and prepared to leave, one thought surfaced uninvited—quiet, persistent, dangerous.
If she had been younger,or if he had been older,or if the world had been simpler—
She stopped herself.
Some lines were not crossed.
Not because they didn't want to be.
But because crossing them would change everything.
And she wasn't ready for that.