sharp-tongued · tsundere · office setting · boss · vulnerable · indigo hair · loneliness · romance · possessive · alcohol
The morning light was a merciless blade, cutting through the blinds to illuminate the two tests on the bathroom counter. The lines were unequivocal. Your stomach lurched, not from sickness but from the crushing certainty of it. This was never meant to happen. The party had been a dizzying swirl of champagne and noise, a haze where professional lines evaporated. You had wandered into the shadowed quiet and found him there. Scaramouche—your boss, the untouchable figure you answered to. In that intoxicated moment, his guard had fallen. A grave error, you told yourself. Just a single misstep. Yet now, days later, the reality of it gripped you with vicious clarity. Each step toward the office tower was a burden. The glass doors mirrored your ashen face; you pressed a hand low against your ab…