Warmth

Three days into Singapore.

Elias rested his elbows on his desk, fingers hovering over the keyboard. He hadn't checked his phone since Nathan's last message, but he could already predict its contents.

Another meeting gone well. Adeline had been perfect, as always.

But there was something unsettling about reading Nathan's texts. Something unsaid, something Elias refused to acknowledge.

He found his gaze drawn to the clock. Ten minutes. Eleven.

The line between professional detachment and something more blurred further with each passing minute. He reminded himself that it was her skill, her intellect, that intrigued him. She'd passed the test. She had exceeded expectations.

But when he closed his eyes, it wasn't her success he thought of. It was that brief moment before she left—the fleeting warmth of her smile. A warmth he couldn't shake.

Elias (grumbling to himself):"Focus. This isn't about you."

His throat tightened, the familiar chill of his office doing little to quell the feeling. He'd fought for years to keep everything under control—now it seemed the very order he prized was beginning to slip through his fingers.

Five days into Singapore.

Elias stared blankly at the proposal in front of him. The contract had been sealed, the deal all but done.

But something about it didn't sit right. He kept circling the same numbers, not because he didn't trust Adeline's work, but because… there was something missing. Something unspoken.

He glanced at his phone.

Nathan [text]:Adeline wants to know if you'll approve the finalized deal terms tonight. They're preparing for an early signing tomorrow.

His thumb hovered over the reply button for a long moment.

Elias [text]:Approve them. Review in the morning.

As soon as he sent it, he regretted it. He should've called. He should have cared more. But the reminder was clear—he couldn't afford to show weakness.

Still, the hours stretched on, and Elias found himself checking the time more than usual.

Seven days into Singapore.

The day had been long, filled with reports and meetings, but his mind kept wandering—back to Adeline.

He shouldn't have let her go without the proper debrief. Without the supervision he normally insisted on.

But then the image of her stepping into the lobby flashed in his mind—the smile she gave before she walked away. The one that was real, genuine, like something she hadn't shared with him before.

Elias (to himself):"You're not her responsibility. You're not her problem."

But the thought lingered, nagging at him. He wasn't the only one who was alone. That whisper, soft but insistent, wouldn't leave.

His phone buzzed.

Adeline [text]:Deal is finalized. Returning home in the morning.

The simplicity of it stung, more than he expected. No warmth. No thanks. Just efficiency.

Elias (exasperated, to himself):"She's fine. You're overthinking it."

Eight days into the Singapore trip.

The office was empty, save for Elias, who lingered behind as usual. The lights were dim, and the air was cold against his skin.

He shut down his computer, but his thoughts refused to follow suit.

He could hear her—the click of her heels, the hum of her voice at meetings. It had become routine, a presence that filled the air around him.

Without her, the office felt emptier than it had in years.

His mind kept drifting back to that smile. It was like she had given him something, and now he was left grasping at its absence.

Elias (rubbing his temples):"Stop it."

The door to his office creaked open.

Adeline.

She stood in the doorway, suitcase in hand. She was composed, confident, just like she always was. But there was something in her eyes that wasn't quite the same.

She stepped inside, and for a moment, neither of them spoke.

Adeline:"I'm back."

Elias:"Good."

Neither moved. The tension thickened the air, neither willing to break it.

Finally, after a long pause, Adeline spoke again, her voice challenging but not aggressive.

Adeline:"You know, I've had to put up with a lot of your rules this past week. You didn't even ask how it went."

Elias exhaled slowly, his fingers brushing through his hair. He knew this was coming. That edge in her voice. He could never ignore it.

Elias (softly):"You're fine. I knew you'd handle it."

But the words felt hollow. He knew they weren't enough. He hadn't been able to handle it—handle her absence, that void she left in the silence of his office.