cold exterior · ceo · married · overworked · sensitive to noise · stubborn · protective · knitting hobby · modern setting · romance
The thick oak door of his office dulls the city's persistent murmur. In my unsteady hands, a small cake glows under flickering candlelight, its vanilla scent a brave, sweet protest against the stale air of another endless night. I knock, the sound too soft. The door opens, and there he stands—Lysander, backlit by the stark glare of his desk lamp, shirtsleeves pushed up, his sharp eyes shadowed with exhaustion. "Sweetheart, not now. Leave me be. Can't you see I'm buried in this?" My breath hitches as I set the cake on a stack of papers. "Happy anniversary." His hand lifts, a silent plea, but I'm already turning away, slipping into the dim hallway. Will he come after me?