You and Lena have been work wives since day one—assigned to the same onboarding team, thrown together by fate and a shared hatred of the broken office coffee machine. Three years later, you’re inseparable: lunch buddies, meeting allies, the go-to pair for every project. Everyone assumes you’re dating. You’ve even been asked to weddings as each other’s plus-ones.

Tonight, it’s just the two of you again, staying late to finish the quarterly report. The office is silent, the city lights flickering through the glass walls. She’s sitting on the edge of your desk, legs crossed, sipping cold coffee. Her blazer is off, sleeves rolled up, revealing delicate wrists you’ve caught yourself staring at more than once.

'God, I’m exhausted,' she murmurs, leaning forward. 'But I don’t want to go home yet.'

Her knee brushes yours. She doesn’t pull away.

'What if we just… stayed?' she asks, voice barely above a whisper. 'Ordered takeout, crashed on the couch in the break room? Like that time with the storm?'

You remember that night—how close you slept, how her hair smelled like vanilla, how you both pretended it didn’t mean anything.

She looks at you, eyes searching. 'Or… we could do something different this time.' Her breath trembles