Chapter 3: Unspoken Ties

The days passed, and somehow, I found myself spending more time with her. It wasn't intentional—at least, that's what I told myself. But lunch breaks that were once solitary now included her, and casual conversations turned into something more familiar.

It started small. She would wait for me when heading to the office cafeteria, waving me over when she spotted an open table. "Come on, I don't want to sit alone," she would say, flashing a playful smile.

I told myself it was just friendliness. Just a colleague being nice. But the way she leaned in when she spoke, the way her fingers brushed against mine when passing a cup of coffee—it all felt deliberate. Or maybe, I was just imagining things.

One afternoon, as we walked back to our desks, she suddenly reached out and dusted something off my shoulder. It was such a small gesture, yet it caught me completely off guard. My breath hitched for a second, and she must have noticed because she let out a quiet laugh.

"You're so tense all the time," she murmured, her fingers lingering for just a moment before she stepped away.

I wanted to say something—to brush it off as nothing—but the truth was, I wasn't sure if I wanted to.

At work, my boss's gaze still followed me, her silent expectations weighing on me like an invisible chain. At home, my girlfriend's eyes held a sadness she refused to voice. And in between all of that, there was her—this colleague who was slowly, unintentionally, pulling me into something new.

And that terrified me more than anything else.

A Late Night of Hardship

That evening, work dragged on longer than expected. A sudden issue arose, and as luck would have it, both she and I were the only ones left capable of dealing with it. The rest of the office had long emptied, leaving only the soft hum of computers and the occasional sighs of exhaustion.

"This is ridiculous," she muttered, stretching her arms above her head. "I swear, they always dump everything on us."

I chuckled, rubbing my temples. "We're the only ones left, so I guess that's how it goes."

She shot me a look, a teasing glint in her eyes. "So what, does that make us survivors?"

I smirked. "More like victims."

She laughed, a genuine, carefree sound that made the fatigue in my body a little less overwhelming. We worked side by side, leaning over reports, discussing strategies, and occasionally poking fun at each other to keep the mood light. Hours passed, and before we knew it, it was well past midnight.

By the time we finished, the city outside had fallen into a sleepy silence. The last train had long since departed, and the few remaining taxis had already been snatched up.

She sighed, checking her phone. "Well, this sucks. No trains, no buses… and knowing my luck, no taxis either."

I glanced around, realizing the same grim reality. "Guess we're stuck."

She hummed in thought, then nudged me with her elbow. "Midnight snack?"

It was a simple suggestion, but in that moment, it felt like the most natural thing in the world. We found a small 24-hour diner tucked away in a quiet corner of the city. The warm glow of neon lights bathed us in soft colors as we slid into a booth, exhausted but oddly content.

She ordered beer, I followed suit. The cold drink burned down my throat, washing away the fatigue but replacing it with something else—something heavier.

"This feels kinda nice," she admitted, swirling her glass. "Being out like this… feels like college again."

I nodded, though my mind was elsewhere. The atmosphere, the dim lighting, the way she absentmindedly toyed with the rim of her glass—it all felt dangerously comfortable.

After finishing our food, we finally began searching for a place to stay. But as luck would have it, every nearby hotel was either fully booked or way out of our price range. That is, until we found one last place.

"Only one room left," the receptionist said, barely looking up from his screen. "But it only has one bed."

Silence stretched between us as we processed the situation. She turned to me with an unreadable expression. "Well… guess we don't have much of a choice."

I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. "Yeah… guess not."

As we walked toward the elevator, neither of us spoke. The night had led us here—whether by chance or by fate, I wasn't sure anymore.

But one thing was certain.

This was a night of no return.