By the time I left work, it was almost 7 p.m.

The entire building had thinned out long before I stepped out of the conference room. Most sane people had gone home. Even the janitorial staff had started politely hovering, waiting for me to clear the hallway so they could lock up the floor.

But today wasn't about being sane, it was about surviving the last stretch before the final presentation for the Meridian Development Initiative. Three weeks. That's all that stood between us and the finish line.

I wasn't surprised when Val didn't beat me home.

The house was quiet when I pushed open the front door. The kind of quiet that wasn't empty… just waiting. Warm lights were already on, though — Aline's touch. The soft glow from the entryway spread across the living room, mixing with the faint, comforting smell of food.

Aline popped her head out from the kitchen the moment she heard me.

] "Good evening, sir."

"Evening, Aline." I slipped off my shoes. "Val's not back yet?"

She shook her head, gentle as always. "No, sir. She phoned earlier. Said she'd be delayed and asked me to start dinner so you wouldn't have to wait."

Of course she did.

Val might get swallowed by work, but she never forgot the small things.

I nodded. "Thank you."

] "Would you like to eat now, or wait for her?"

I didn't even pretend to consider it. "I'll wait."

Aline gave a small knowing smile, the kind that didn't judge, just understood, and disappeared back into the kitchen.

I headed upstairs, peeled off the day with a cold shower, then sat at my desk with the intention of finishing a few reports. That lasted… maybe ten minutes.

After that, I was mostly staring at a spreadsheet, clicking through tabs just to kill time, listening for the sound of her car.

There was a strange comfort in the waiting, though. A rhythm we'd built without meaning to: she comes home, we eat, she messes with me until I surrender, then she curls into me on the bed as if that's the only place she belongs.

The clock's ticking was loud enough to be a conversation on its own.

8:14 p.m.

Right on cue, the low hum of an engine rolled into the driveway. Tires gripped the concrete.

My shoulders relaxed without permission.

A few seconds later, the inside door opened with a soft click, and Val stepped in — blazer half-buttoned, hair slightly messy from the day, finger with her ring, the one she never stopped showing people the second she had the chance.

She looked tired, yes. But the moment her eyes landed on me, that exhaustion melted into something warm and bright.

"There you are," I said, leaning against the dining table with a smirk. "Someone's back late."

She let out a long, dramatic sigh, the kind only she could pull off without looking childish. "You have no idea. Today was supposed to be simple. Quick alignments, a few simulations, one internal briefing." She gestured vaguely upward. "Then everything exploded. Twice."

I raised a brow. "Exploded, huh?"

"Yes," she said, stepping out of her heels with a soft groan. "Not literally. But it might as well have been. Gianna accidentally reset one of the model parameter sets, so we had to rerun the entire—"

"Bath first," I cut in gently.

Her eyes narrowed, like I'd interrupted the climax of a very dramatic speech. "I wasn't done."

"Bath first," I repeated, stepping forward to tap her forehead lightly. "Dinner after. Then you can whine."

"I don't whine," she said immediately, offended on a spiritual level. "I explain. Clearly. Thoroughly. Elegantly."

I bit back a laugh. "Sure. That's one word for it."

She huffed — a tiny, adorable puff of breath — and crossed her arms. "It's not... it's not whining, it's… elaborating."

I stared at her. "Uh-huh."

> "Don't 'uh-huh' me."

"Then go bathe," I said, nudging her shoulder. "Before you fall asleep at the table."

She opened her mouth to argue again — I could see the gears turning, the dramatic comeback forming — but fatigue finally caught up. Her body sagged just a little, her eyelids softening.

"Fine…" she muttered.

She turned toward the stairs, peeling off her blazer as she walked. By the time she reached the landing, she was tugging loose the first button of her shirt, leaving it hanging slightly off one shoulder. Casual. Comfortable. Natural in a way she rarely let the world see.

But she let me see it every day.

She disappeared down the hallway, the faint sound of her footsteps softening into a hush as she pushed open the bathroom door.

The light flicked on.

Running water followed.

And just like that, the house felt complete again.

My mind eased, even as the weight of work, presentation deadlines, and everything waiting for me tomorrow lingered beneath the surface. But right now? Right now was simple.

She was home.

And somehow, that made everything else manageable.

---

Dinner passed in a comfortable blur — the kind of quiet meal where neither of us needed to say much. We were both tired, both thinking about work, both happy enough just sitting across from each other and sharing the same space. Before long, the dishes were done, Aline had retired for the night, and we made our way upstairs.

I leaned back against the headboard, scrolling lazily through some emails, though I wasn't reading any of them. Val climbed into bed beside me, legs tucked under the duvet, shoulders brushing mine.

I glanced at her, smirk tugging at the corner of my mouth.

"So," I said, setting my phone aside, "you wanted to say something earlier."

Her towel froze mid-motion.

"Oh—right." She blinked, as if she'd genuinely forgotten she had something important to tell me. Then she turned fully to face me, knee knocking gently against my leg. "Yeah. I did."

The shift in her face was instant. The playful glint dimmed, replaced by something quieter, more serious.

"It's about Lucien," she said.

I straightened a little. "Your brother?"

She nodded. "He's been… off. For a while now. Weeks." She exhaled slowly, folding the towel in her lap. "He leaves the office during work hours. A lot. And when he comes back, he has this… I don't know. This look. Like he's hiding something. Or stressed about something he can't tell anyone."

Her voice softened on the last words.

Worried.

Not dramatic, genuinely concerned.

"He's always been busy," she continued, "but this is different. It feels like he's… moving pieces I can't see. And it's Lucien, so I know he doesn't tell me everything, but…" A faint crease formed between her brows. "I can't shake this feeling that something's wrong."

I reached out, brushing my thumb over her hand. "Did you talk to him?"

"I tried." She made a small, frustrated sound. "He brushed it off. Said it's just work. But he's not acting like it's just work." Her gaze lifted to meet mine. "I'm his sister. I know when he's lying."

I held her eyes, steady and warm. "You're worried."

"Of course I'm worried." Her voice dropped even lower. "He's family."

I let a moment pass before speaking — giving her space to breathe, to process.

"Val," I said gently, "your brother's not stupid, but he does have a habit of jumping into things when he's trying to prove a point. Especially when it comes to your dad."

She huffed, rubbing her palm against her thigh. "Exactly. That's what scares me."

"If he's sneaking out during work hours, then… yeah, it might be one of those impulsive Lucien things. The kind where he convinces himself he's doing something brilliant when he's actually walking straight into a mess."

"That makes me feel worse, Kai," she muttered — but the honesty in her voice told me she appreciated that I wasn't sugarcoating it.

I reached for her hand, grounding her. "Maybe. But it also means he's acting out of pressure, not carelessness. And pressure? You can pull someone back from that — once they stop hiding."

Her shoulders relaxed by a fraction. "I just… I don't want him getting into something stupid."

"I know he is," I said. "And you're allowed to be concerned. But you don't have to solve it for him all at once. Just be there. You're good at that."

She looked at me for a long moment — eyes soft, thoughtful, grateful in a way she rarely verbalized.

"…Thanks," she murmured.

"Anytime."

A quiet settled between us — heavy enough to mean something, but light enough not to suffocate the moment. She leaned her head against my shoulder, and I brushed my fingers through her still-damp hair, letting the room fall back into that familiar, slow rhythm.

Then, right when I thought we were winding down for the night—

She shifted.

Lifted her head.

Gave me that look.

The one with the mischievous spark. The one that always meant trouble.

"So," she said slowly, "since you gave me advice, I think I should… reward you."

I blinked. "Reward me?"

"Mhm." She nodded, inching closer. "Just a little something."

"We have work tomorrow," I reminded her, though it was more habit than resistance.

"I know." She drew a finger along my jaw, playful and deliberate. "We'll make it quick."

I stared at her. "Val—"

"What?" she said sweetly, innocence absolutely not included.

"You're tired."

] "I'm not that tired."

"You were falling asleep at the dinner table."

She shrugged. "I revived."

"You revived?" I repeated, half-laughing despite myself.

"Mhm." She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, expression deadly serious but eyes glittering. "Look, I'm stressed. You're stressed. Lucien is acting weird. The world is chaotic. We should combat that chaos as a team."

I groaned. "That's not how that works."

She lifted a brow. "It is now."

I tried — genuinely tried — to maintain some semblance of resistance.

But this was Val.

And Val, once she set her mind on something, moved with the confidence of a woman who knew exactly how to disarm me in under ten seconds.

She shifted closer still, voice dropping into a whisper. "Come on… just a little stress relief."

I laughed — helplessly, fully defeated. "Unbelievable."

She grinned, triumphant. "I'll take that as a yes."

I exhaled, shaking my head. "Yeah… fine. You win."

"I always win," she said proudly.

And as she tugged me down to kiss her, her eyes still shining from everything she held inside — worry, love, mischief — I couldn't help the thought that drifted through me, warm and grounding:

There were a hundred things waiting for us tomorrow.

Deadlines, pressure, work, expectations.

But tonight?

Tonight was ours.

---

To be continued...

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