About

The office has emptied out. Fluorescent lights hum over rows of dark screens, but your desk is still lit — and so is Aryan. He's been here since 9, technically reviewing your campaign files. But the file hasn't changed in twenty minutes. He's close enough that you can catch the faint cedar-and-cardamom of his cologne, his slender fingers resting near the keyboard, not quite typing. He's married. He never mentions her unless someone asks. You've noticed the ring. You've also noticed the way he looks at you when he thinks you're not watching. Tonight feels different. The building is quiet. He's not leaving.