ing, the office fe

d a last-minute product pitch, and Eva

in close quarters a situation that should

the conference room. His voice was light, but

forcing a professional tone while my

gic debates. We fell into the same rhythm we'd had years ago but this time, every gl

through, the

stronger if we..." I began, poi

sharply. "We don't have time to rework that

ed an edge I hadn't heard from him in years.

y voice steady. "We can make it work.

"Trust me. This isn't about your plan. It

reement anymore it was old wounds, old resentments,

, surprising even myself. "I don't n

tension-it was electric, charged with past heartbreak a

a growl. "Don't do that. Don't shut m

d to let him in, after everything. And yet, looking

cologne, feel the warmth of his body a fraction to

." I started,

s locked on mine. "I get it. I am too. B

mate. I wanted to step back. I wanted to run. But I c

to lose this... or you. But I don'

take it slow. Together. But

dangerous, and undeniably personal. Every brush of hands over papers, every glance over the laptop screen, re

here was no resolution, no kiss, no confession but the t

ietly, voice low enoug

l that tomorrow might be the day every

d the occasional click of the cleaning crew's vacuum. I was still at my desk, re

he asked, his voi

, surprised.

r knees brushed under the table, and a jolt ran through me. I tried to

open the folder. "I figured we could tackle them together,

him alone was dangerous. We were walking a fine line bet

des and charts. Every time our hands brushed while swapping papers, my he

ustration b

they are," I muttered, runn

aling. "I know. But we can fix it.

me stop. There was care there...familiar, unshakable care. And b

catching. "This is... hard.

ay. "I know. It's

pty, it was heavy, charged with yea

fall back into the same mistakes. But I c

breath. "Neither can I. But maybe... this time we do it

. Could we? Could we really rebuild what we

a reminder that the client's deadline loomed dangerously close. The tension between us did

e light from our screens. We packed up without sayin

s cool, crisp, and somehow close. Eva

o your car?

the deserted sidewalk. Our shoulders

y. "We finish this and...

hammering, already nervous and

stance between us felt smaller than

soft drizzle at first, then heavier, hammering against the concrete

sked, raising an eyebrow a

admitted, shiv

teasing grin. Then he extended hi

s arm. His warmth hit me like a jolt, and for a moment

rted, but the words

ce me. The drizzle clung to his hair, highlighting the sharp li

I'd built between us were years of hurt, fear, an

"Every time we're close... I feel everyt

our faces were inches apart. "I'm afraid I'll hurt y

ed, and I realized I was shaking, not because it was cold, but because I

against his chest, feeling the steady t

me time, searching my eyes f

umbrella, soaking us both. We froze for a heartbeat, staring at

he said, his voice low, urgen

e past and present collided in that moment, a

orn from the garage startled us. The spell broke. We stepped bac

morrow," I stammered, tr

d touching mine. There was an

ise that the next encounter wouldn't wait. The tension had reached its p