Julian’s office door clicked shut behind him as he stepped into the hallway, already dressed for the day. The morning light caught the sharp lines of his charcoal suit, the crisp white shirt, the polished cufflinks. He stood in front of the mirror near the bedroom door, sliding the silk tie around his collar with practiced precision.
He didn’t hear her at first.
Bare feet. Soft steps. A quiet presence.
But he felt her.
Kya paused in the doorway, still wearing one of his shirts — the sleeves too long, the hem brushing mid‑thigh. Her hair was loose, slightly messy from sleep, her eyes still soft and warm.
Julian’s fingers stilled on the tie.
“Kya,” he said, voice lower than he intended.
She blinked, then smiled shyly. “You’re already dressed.”
He nodded. “I have a meeting.”
She step
