The office didn't return to normal after the crisis.
Not completely.
People went back to their desks, screens filled again, conversations restarted—but something had shifted.
At least for me.
I stayed late that evening, finishing reports I'd promised to send. The floor gradually emptied until the quiet returned, softer than before.
I was packing my bag when I noticed the light in Arvan's office was still on.
I hesitated.
Then knocked.
"Come in," he said.
He was standing by the window, jacket draped over the chair, sleeves rolled up again. The city lights reflected in the glass, casting shadows across his face.
"You should go home," he said when he saw me.
"So should you."
He almost smiled.
Almost.
I stepped inside, the door closing behind me.
"Today would've gone very differently without you," he said.
"I didn't do anything extraordinary," I replied.
"You did," he said quietly. "You stayed."
The word lingered.
Stayed.
I crossed my arms, suddenly unsure where to look.
"I didn't mean to make things harder before," I said. "By asking for space."
He turned from the window.
"You didn't," he replied. "You did what you needed to."
"And you respected it."
"Yes."
That was what made it hurt.
"I'm not good at pretending," I admitted. "Distance only made everything louder."
His gaze softened.
"You don't need to explain yourself to me," he said. "Just don't shut me out."
I nodded. "I won't."
Silence settled—not awkward, not tense.
Intimate.
"I don't trust easily," Arvan said suddenly.
I looked up, surprised.
"People see control," he continued. "They mistake it for certainty. But most days, it's just… discipline."
I waited.
"I learned early that attachment gives people leverage," he said. "So I stopped allowing it."
My chest tightened.
"And now?" I asked softly.
His eyes met mine.
"Now I'm aware of how quiet things feel when you're not around."
The honesty in his voice stole my breath.
"I don't expect anything from you," he added. "No promises. No decisions."
He stepped closer—not invading, just present.
"But I don't want to keep pretending this is nothing."
My heart thudded.
"It's not nothing to me either," I said.
The admission felt like stepping off a ledge.
He didn't move.
Didn't touch me.
Just held my gaze like it mattered.
"We should take this slowly," he said.
"Yes," I agreed immediately.
"Carefully."
"Yes."
A pause.
"But honestly."
I nodded again.
He exhaled, some tension leaving his shoulders.
"Go home," he said gently. "I don't want this moment ruined by exhaustion."
I smiled faintly. "You're always thinking five steps ahead."
He looked at me, eyes warm.
"Not always."
I reached the door, then stopped.
"Arvan?"
"Yes?"
"I'm not disappearing again."
Something eased in his expression.
"Good," he said softly. "Neither am I."
I left the office with my heart steady in a way it hadn't been before.
Not because things were clear.
But because they were finally real.