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The walls seemed to absorb their words, keeping every secret spoken under dim light and the lingering trace of amber on the air. For Omar, the late nights were a ritual; for Edvin, they were an invitation. Each project became an excuse, each detail a chance to linger a little longer. There was something unspoken between them, a rhythm that neither fully acknowledged, yet both felt in the silence between sentences.
And in that silence, the refuge ceased to be just an office. It became a sanctuary of quiet glances, unfinished thoughts, and the dangerous comfort of being seen too clearly.
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Bookmark Notes:
Beg