They both stood there, the glow and beauty of the night sky engulfing the room, time felt still as he let himself get lost in her smile.

But then Maya blinked, as if reality snapped back into place. She quickly dropped her gaze and took a small step back.

"I should... I should go, sir," she said, voice barely above a whisper.

Richard nodded once, curtly. "That would be best."

Maya moved toward the door, her steps light but hurried. She didn't want to mess things up any further. The thought that she might already have done too much sent a tightness to her chest.

Her hand reached for the doorknob.

He said nothing else.

She slipped out, the door shutting softly behind her.

Now she stood outside his suite, back against the door, heart hammering wildly in her chest.

She had survived the encounter, somehow. But what now? Would he fire her? Had she crossed some invisible line? She'd broken so many rules already. Touching him, staying too long, speaking when she shouldn't have.

And yet—he hadn't said anything cruel. He hadn't dismissed her on the spot.

Still, he was unreadable. She couldn't tell if she was safe or already walking toward the edge of disaster.

_____

The next morning arrived wrapped in pale sunlight. Maya sat up in her hotel bed, eyes puffy from restless sleep. She kept replaying the night in her head. Over and over. Every glance, every word.

She hadn't expected him to thank her. Or even look at her properly. He was a storm in a pressed suit, cold and unbothered by everything around him.

And yet, something about that moment—when he said thank you—made her feel like she'd peeked through a crack in his armor.

She got dressed quickly. Neat, professional. Hair pinned, blazer buttoned. She didn't want to seem unprepared again. Not around him.

Her nerves returned when she placed a special request with the hotel kitchen for a breakfast tray. It took some convincing—she wasn't technically allowed to place guest orders for suites—but somehow, she managed to persuade the staff. By the time the tray was delivered to her, she handled it with trembling fingers, carefully arranging the toast, tea, and fresh fruit.

It wasn't protocol. She knew that. But it felt right.

Maya knocked gently on his door, unsure what she'd say if he actually opened it.

He did.

Richard stood there, perfectly composed as always. Not a trace of last night's weakness in sight.

"Good morning, sir," she said quickly, holding up the tray. "I, um... brought you something. Just in case you hadn't eaten. I thought it might help."

His gaze dropped to the tray, then slowly rose back to her face.

"Maya," he said, his voice calm but cool. "You didn't need to go to that trouble."

Maya's fingers tightened slightly on the tray. "I know. I just... I wanted to."

He didn't respond at first. Then, after a long pause, he stepped aside. "Leave it on the table."

She moved quickly, placing the tray on a small table by the window. The morning light spilled across the room, soft and golden. When she turned back, Richard was watching her.

Not just watching. Studying.

His eyes lingered briefly on her arms, her face, her posture—searching for something. A hint of fatigue, a shadow of pallor. Any sign she might be weakening like the others had.

But she stood upright. Breathing easily. Completely fine.

She should've been showing signs by now.

Last night, she'd touched him. For more than a moment. Her hand had stayed on his forehead. She'd hovered close. She'd even sat beside him for hours. It should have drained her. She should be coughing by now, at the very least.

Richard didn't show it, but his unease was rising.

"I'm sorry if I overstepped," Maya blurted. "I didn't mean to bother you last night. I just—you looked like you needed help."

Her voice cracked slightly at the end. She hated that.

His face remained impassive, his hands behind his back.

"You may go now," he said after a pause.

Maya nodded quickly, retreating to the door. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment.

"Thank you." Richard said, pausing for her to turn around.

She turned halfway, surprised. The tone wasn't warm, but it wasn't cold either.

"You helped. That's all." Richard continued.

She gave a small nod and walked out, this time with less fear in her steps.

Back inside the room, Richard stood in silence.

She shouldn't have helped him. She shouldn't have stayed. Every moment she was near made it harder to maintain the boundaries that kept humans safe.

He felt it—the slight hum of warmth that remained in the room. It had dulled the ache that always lingered in his chest.

But it was more than that.

She had touched him.

And nothing happened.

Not immediately. Not hours later. Not even now.

He crossed the room, picked up the teacup she'd left, and stared into its reflection.

This wasn't just strange. It was unprecedented.

Why was it different with her?

Down the hall, Maya leaned against the elevator wall as it descended, trying to quiet her thoughts.

Today would be different. She would do better. Be better.

Even if she was terrified of him, even if her heart wouldn't stop beating like a drum every time he looked at her, she'd keep showing up. That had to count for something.

She couldn't afford to mess this up. Not this time. Not again.

Her job was to assist, to survive this assignment without making a mess of it like she always did. That was the test.

______

Later that morning, just as Maya was adjusting some folders in the temporary workspace they'd been given at the hotel, Richard stepped in.

"Maya," he said, his voice clipped and brisk. "You're not needed for the rest of the day."

She looked up, startled. "Sir?"

"I have matters to attend to. Take the day off. Do not wait around. If I require anything, I'll handle it."

She opened her mouth, hesitated, then closed it again. "Yes, sir."

Richard nodded and walked away without another word.

Maya stood there, gripping the folder to her chest, unsure if it was punishment or a gift. But whatever it was, she would use the time to steady herself—before she stumbled again.