The afternoon light had turned golden, slanting through the tall windows of the executive floor. Maya sat stiffly at her desk; she had finally finished the report for the event but the weight of the day's encounters with her boss hovered over her like a cloud. she was so happy that she handed over his coffee to him professionally without any mishaps.

She stretched her body on her chair, feeling the weight of being like humans, their bodies were so fragile, she already felt like her legs were losing feeling from just sitting. With that, she rubbed them, applying a little pressure as she did.

The door to Richard's office opened.

She glanced up quickly. He stood there, his expression unreadable as always.

"Maya. Come in here a moment."

"Yes, sir."

She followed him into the office, her heartbeat climbing steadily.

He gestured to a stack of papers on the far side of his desk. "I need you to go through these and highlight discrepancies in the data. You can work in here. It's easier if we go over it together."

"O-okay," she said, biting the inside of her cheek.

" Don't mess up." she mumbled to herself.

She sat opposite him, the edge of her seat digging into the backs of her knees as she tried to maintain a polite, neutral posture. Her fingers trembled slightly as she picked up the first paper.

She didn't see the way Richard watched her. He wasn't reading the files. Not really. Every so often, his gaze flicked up. He watched for signs: a sudden chill, a weakening, a faint pallor. But she remained steady.

No mortal spent this much time so close to him without a cost.

Still nothing.

Minutes passed. Maya dropped a paper. She bent to retrieve it at the same time he reached for another. Their hands brushed again.

Her breath hitched. "I'm so sorry."

He shook his head slowly. "You're not doing anything wrong."

The room was still. She tried to refocus, flipping through more pages, highlighting a few errors with her pen.

Richard stood and came around the desk to sit beside her. Not across from her.

"It's easier to look at them together," he said.

Maya nodded mutely, trying not to stare at the sleeve of his suit so close to hers, the faint scent of his cologne unsettlingly warm and dark.

He leaned forward to point something out on the paper, and their shoulders brushed.

Her whole body went still.

So did his.

Then he did it again—casual, natural. His hand briefly touched hers as he pointed to a line of numbers.

Her breath quickened. Her head felt foggy.

But not from illness.

"Are you feeling alright?" he asked, his voice low.

She looked up, startled. "Yes! I mean, yes sir."

His eyes searched hers for something.

"I see."

Another paper slipped from her lap. She bent again and smacked her head softly against the underside of the table.

"Ow."

He was beside her in a second. "Careful."

"Sorry sir." she muttered, rubbing her forehead.

He looked almost amused, he realized Maya was a bit clumsy and she was employed as a secretary, not just any secretary, his.

When she looked up, he was already composed again, but there was a softness at the corner of his mouth.

"Are you okay Maya? " he said.

She blinked. "Yes sir." Maya wanted the ground to swallow her up whole.

He picked up the file and handed it to her, their fingers brushing for the fourth time.

"Okay, be careful."

She nodded dumbly, her throat too tight to speak.

Richard was watching for signs that could explain what was happening, initiating contact and Maya on the other hand was silently cursing her nerves.

______

By late afternoon, the sunlight had faded into a soft overcast gray. Heavy clouds hung low outside the tall windows, muting the golden tones into a moody dusk. The shadows stretched longer in the corners of Richard's office, casting a quiet stillness over the room. The only sound was the rustle of papers and the occasional tap of a pen against the desk.

Maya shifted in her seat, trying to ignore how close Richard sat beside her. His presence was overwhelming. Not in a loud or imposing way—he was always quiet—but in how he made the space feel smaller, like the very air between them was charged with something she couldn't name.

She blamed it on how badly she wanted to do things right.

Still, her hands trembled slightly when she reached across him to grab a binder. She hadn't meant to brush against his arm, but she did.

A moment too long.

She quickly withdrew, heart pounding. "I'm sorry. Again."

"You apologize a lot," he said quietly.

She stared at him, panicked. "I am sorry sir."

"Again, another apology." he said, and the way his eyes held hers made her throat feel tight.

He reached over to adjust the binder between them. His fingers ghosted over hers again. This time, she didn't flinch away. She was too confused, holding back the apology on the tip of her togue. 

Her fingers curled instinctively, and she looked down, suddenly embarrassed.

Richard watched every flicker of her expression. The way her cheeks flushed faintly, the way her breathing changed when he leaned just slightly closer to read a highlighted section of text. She wasn't reacting like someone repulsed or uncomfortable.

She was... confused. Flustered.

Another minute passed. Then two.

He leaned in to point at a line in the document, his shoulder nearly touching hers again. "Here—what does this note mean?"

Maya swallowed, forcing her voice to work. "It's a side comment from the venue. About how many guests stayed past curfew."

"Hmm."

He didn't move away. And neither did she.

She was very aware of him, of the sharp cut of his suit, the deep rumble of his voice, the calm, almost unreadable face that now seemed impossibly close. Her thoughts scrambled.

Maybe it was just his cologne making her lightheaded. Or the fact that she hadn't eaten much, humans need to eat repeatedly in a day, maybe that was it or maybe it was how the room had grown warmer with the thick clouds outside and the quiet hum of the heater.

Still... she didn't move.

Then her elbow accidentally knocked over a small stack of papers. They fluttered to the ground like soft, guilty whispers.

"Oh no—I'll get them—" she said, bending.

They both did at the same time.

Their hands collided again.

This time, neither of them moved away right away.

Richard watched her. He was close enough now to see the individual lashes framing her wide eyes, to hear the way her breath caught when their fingers touched. Still no cold. Still no sickness. Still no weakening.

Why?

How?

He lingered just a second too long. It was deliberate.

And Maya noticed.

Her breath trembled. She couldn't look at him directly, but she didn't pull her hand away either. She just stared at the papers in front of her like they were the most important documents in the world.

"Here," he said at last, his voice quieter now. He passed her one of the sheets.

She took it, brushing his hand again. Deliberate? Accidental? She didn't know anymore.

Her heart was being very unreasonable.

Back in her seat, she tried to focus, but the words swam.

He hadn't moved far.

She could still feel the quiet weight of him beside her, the sense that something was shifting between them. It wasn't romantic—no, not exactly. She wouldn't dare think like that. She didn't understand enough to think that way.

But there was something different now. Something deeper.

By the time the evening lights turned on automatically and the sky outside dipped into charcoal gray, Maya had barely highlighted anything new. Richard didn't seem to mind.

He hadn't moved back across the desk.

Instead, he said softly, "You're not cold, are you?"

She blinked at the odd question. "No sir."

He looked at her for a long, silent second. "Okay."

She gave a soft, nervous laugh. "I'm always too warm, actually. I think I'm just naturally a furnace."

Then she realized she was making causal conversation with her boss from just a simple question he asked.

Why was she always so scatterbrained, she thought silently cursing herself.

Richard gave a small, thoughtful nod. "That's a good thing." He said and he didn't look away, he realized she didn't feel cold around him.

Neither did she, shocked that he replied. 

There it was again—that impossible thing. The feeling that something had passed between them, but she had no words for it, just the soft flush that wouldn't leave her cheeks