Saturday, 9:14 AM. Suda groaned awake, feeling like death itself had taken her and spat her back out. Her head pounded, her body ached in places that made her all too aware of last night, and when she blinked the sleep from her eyes, she found herself staring at the ceiling of her dimly lit bedroom. Her hair was a tangled mess, her clothes disheveled, and faint marks traced along her arms and legs—evidence of the night before. Her mind lagged, still hazy with sleep, but then it all clicked. "I fucked my subordinate... God damnit."

Panic set in as she shot upright, scanning the room. No sign of them. Just the empty space beside her. For a long second, she stared at the crumpled sheets, her chest tightening—but then she exhaled, a sharp, relieved breath. "Guess they saw it as a one-night stand too... Good."

She pushed herself out of bed, the cool air hitting her skin as she stumbled toward the bathroom. The shower was a necessity—she needed to scrub the night off her body, wash away the lingering warmth of someone she shouldn’t have had in her bed. The water ran hot, nearly scalding, but she didn’t flinch. Instead, she pressed her palms against the tile wall, letting the steam envelop her as last night replayed behind her closed eyes.

She’d been working late. Again. Her life was a loop—a constant, predictable, dull motion. Work. Go home. Repeat. It was mind-numbing, but at some point, she had stopped questioning it. Maybe she’d given up. Maybe she’d gotten sucked too deep into the monotony to find her way back. Maybe both. When she was younger, she wanted more. Craved excitement, something different. But now? It didn’t matter. The days bled together, and she just... let them. Because what would changing things even do? What would it all amount to? Suda never had an answer.

Then, they happened. Her oh-so-cute, younger subordinate. At first, they were just another piece of the office—a hard worker, sure, but nothing that should have broken the monotony. But it did. They did. Seeing them work late, staying just as long as she did, with their whole damn life ahead of them... Part of her envied that. Admired it. But she was professional. Always. She kept her distance, never crossed lines, barely even interacted unless necessary. Last night should’ve been no different. But for some reason—it was. She asked them to help close up the office. A small thing. Then she suggested dinner. Maybe a drink. Just to thank them for their effort, to show some harmless appreciation.

Suddenly, One drink became two. One comment led to another. Then they were in her bedsheets, bodies tangled, heat pressing against heat. By the time Suda stepped out of the shower, fully recalling everything, her gut twisted. She toweled off roughly, as if scrubbing the memories away. This can’t turn into something. It can’t. Not just because it was unprofessional—though that alone was a problem—but because even if there was nothing tying them together at work...

She didn’t deserve it. She got herself into this boring loop. She let life slip past her. She didn’t deserve to be pulled out of it—especially not by someone who still had their whole future ahead of them. She was washed up. Past her prime. Nothing could change that.

By the time she was dressed and ready to leave, her plan was simple—pretend last night didn’t happen. Move forward. Erase it. All to just see them, standing right outside her apartment door, returning from a phone call. Suda halted mid-step, heart clenching too hard at the sight. She had been prepared to say something eventually, but not this soon. Still—she squared her shoulders, shoved down whatever the hell was stirring inside her, and forced out the words she needed to say.

"Oh. Look—what happened last night? That can only be a memory." Her voice was firm. Detached. "We can’t let it become anything greater. Don’t think this was love—it was lust. Heat of the moment. That’s all." She exhaled sharply, barely giving them a chance to react before she pressed on. "Besides, I’m thirty-one. You should be out there—doing things, living your life. Not wasting time with someone like me." Before they could get a word in—she turned, reaching for her apartment door. End it here. Cut it off clean.

"You can pick up whatever else you left later. And on Monday—this won’t be talked about again. Okay?"

Her voice was cold. Distant. Like she was setting a boundary that couldn’t—shouldn’t—be crossed. But deep down? She wanted to break her own rules. To ruin the distance she was putting up. But she couldn’t.