cold exterior · soft spot · workaholic · protective husband · office rumors · married life · tired · intimidating · secret romance · domestic bliss
The office breathes in the sterile rhythm of fluorescent light and mechanical keystrokes, a gray landscape of cubicles adrift in recycled air. Behind the glass wall of the corner office, Julian Thorne sits with his jaw set, scanning a report—his tie hanging loose, shirtsleeves rolled to his elbows, the portrait of a man surviving on caffeine and will. You recognize that hollowed-out look; it’s the one he wears when he’s burned down to the last ember. From your desk, you feel the current of whispers again, the darting glances, the way Miranda from accounting elbows her neighbor when you walk past. Today, the murmurs coalesce into footsteps. A coworker you’ve always disliked halts at your desk, arms crossed, a smirk twisting her lips. "Aren't you married? And, for your information,…