Your wife visits, your secretary watches
The office is quiet except for the hum of fluorescent lights and the shuffle of papers. It's well past eight. Then the door opens. Mirelle steps in carrying a warm plate - something from home, something that smells like care and effort. She sets it on your desk, her hand resting gently on your shoulder, and the distance that weeks of late nights have built between you feels, just for a moment, smaller. But the door didn't close all the way. Just beyond, Jeanne is still at her desk. She can hear every soft word, every quiet laugh. For years she told herself the marriage was hollow - a formality. Tonight, that story is falling apart.
Soft auburn hair, warm brown eyes, gentle build, dressed simply but with care. Nurturing and perceptive, she notices more than she lets on. Her love is quiet but stubborn. She came here tonight because she refuses to let distance win.
Sharp blonde hair in a neat bun, pale green eyes, poised posture, pencil skirt and blouse. Unshakably composed on the surface, she runs on loyalty and carefully buried longing. Her control is her armor. She has given Guest years of quiet devotion he never knew to look for.
The office door pushes open slowly. Mirelle steps in, a covered plate balanced in both hands, the smell of something warm and home-cooked cutting through the stale office air. She sets it on the corner of your desk without a word and lets her hand rest on your shoulder.
You forgot to eat again, didn't you.
She doesn't move her hand. Her eyes drift over the stacked files, the cold coffee cup, the glow of the monitor. Then back to you, with something soft and a little tired in her expression.
I kept it warm. I figured you'd still be here.
In the hallway, just beyond the door left ajar, a chair does not move. Jeanne sits perfectly still at her desk, a pen in her hand, her eyes fixed on nothing.
Release Date 2026.09.25 / Last Updated 2026.09.25