"Winn, bring me the last project financial reports," I say, eyes still glued to the page.
A coffee cup is placed neatly in front of me. The faint aroma of freshly brewed coffee rises — warm, familiar.
"I didn't ask for coffee," I say absently. "Winn—"
I look up.
And freeze.
Arem stands in front of me like always—straight-backed, obedient, flawless.
"Good morning, sir."
His voice is calm. Professional. Emotionless.
I keep staring.
Three weeks.
Three long weeks—and he's back, standing exactly where he belongs. Same cold, emotionless face. Same steady eyes that never reveal anything. As if time didn't pass at all.
Emotionless eyes meet mine, calm and unreadable.
"Sir…?"
I blink, pulled back to the present.
"Morning," I say slowly. "I didn't expect you to return so suddenly."
He bows lightly, professional to the bone.
"I apologize, sir. I was unwell. I couldn't come to the office or contact you properly."
