Chapter Text
I had already spent too many afternoons and some nights at the offices, but that afternoon was different. The warm sunlight filtered through the windows, softly bathing the table, bringing with it a kind of comfort that I couldn’t ignore. The way the light illuminated the space, as if it wanted to caress it, offered me a strange sense of peace, a whisper in the air telling me that everything was in its place, though I knew it wasn’t. The walls, painted in soft and cozy tones, seemed to whisper calm, enveloping the atmosphere like an invisible blanket that hugged me every time I crossed the door. In the air floated the subtle scent of wood and essential oils, that mixture that spoke of everything we had created there, of the story we were weaving with each bottle, with each essence.
It was late. Two hours had already passed since the office’s hustle and bustle had faded, and the rest of the employees had gone home. I was always the last to leave, the last to let the stillness take over this little universe of bottles, samples, and sketches. In this calm, I found my refuge, the only place where my mind could think clearly, without the noise of the outside world constantly threatening to interrupt my concentration. I was alone, and that silence allowed me to listen to myself, feel myself... perhaps even find that lost corner of myself that daily routine drowned out.
My mind focused on the product, on what was still missing. My hand moved across the bottles, each one a reminder of my obsession. What I wanted to create had to be perfect. Not just a perfume, but a sensory experience that went beyond the expected, something that would touch the deepest, most intimate essence of whoever smelled it. It couldn’t just smell good; it had to awaken something, something that would reach the very soul. With Edvin, we were the architects of that fragrance, of that story we wanted to tell. But something was still missing, a spark, a flash I couldn’t capture. The idea that I hadn’t found it yet, that invisible detail continued to slip through my fingers. That lack of resolution, that emptiness, kept me awake for entire nights.
Suddenly, the door opened, breaking my train of thought. It was him: Edvin.
His presence had always been like a silent current in the office, a calm that seemed to impose itself naturally, but deep down, it wasn’t as innocent as it seemed. There was something about the way his serenity threw me off balance, as if, by being close to him, everything else lost its clarity. Since he became co-owner, his presence had stopped being an innocuous constant. Now, something in the air changed every time he entered, as if the space became smaller, denser, closer. And though I tried to remain impassive, something inside me betrayed me, an undeniable desire that had grown deep inside.
Edvin looked at me. With that steady, penetrating gaze, as if he wanted to see beyond the obvious, beyond my facade. His voice, soft and laden with something I didn’t want to identify, broke the silence.
Edvin: — Are you still here? I thought you’d finished for today...
I was surprised to see him there. Edvin never usually showed up so late, especially when everyone else had already left. His presence in the office felt, in some way, like an intrusion.
What had brought him to this quiet corner of the day?
His proximity was palpable, almost unbearable. He walked slowly toward me, observing the bottles with an attention that seemed more intimate than I could justify. Every one of his movements felt studied, calculated, as if the simple act of touching the bottles connected him to something deeper, something we both shared without the need for words.
Omar: — You know I have a hard time leaving things unfinished. It’s difficult to find the perfect balance, you know? In the ingredients, in the essence... in life.
I couldn’t help but smile slightly, though without looking directly at him. It was a smile that hid much more than I wanted to show. A small gesture that spoke more than words could express. My mind was still on what we had created, but there was something else in the air, something between us, that I couldn’t ignore. The brush of his eyes on my figure, the closeness of his presence. It was a tension I couldn’t define, but it was there, and it only grew with the silence that settled between us. I finally looked at him, and my voice came out quieter than I had expected, with a tone filled with doubt, but also a desire I didn’t dare fully comprehend.
Omar: — And what are you doing here at this hour? You know we agreed to meet first thing tomorrow... Besides, how did you know I’d be here?
My voice involuntarily veered as if I didn’t want to finish the question, but my curiosity took over. Edvin didn’t respond immediately. His gaze remained fixed on me, with that serenity that, though it usually calmed me, now threw me off even more. There was something in his posture, in the glint of his eyes, that told me his presence there was no coincidence.
Edvin: — I had a feeling the office was calling me…
He answered with that half-challenging smile, as always. His tone was so carefree, so light, but there was something in his expression that told me he said it to dodge a much deeper question. He was being evasive, but at the same time... something in his demeanor told me he didn’t care that I knew it... As if the only thing he really wanted was to be here, close to me.
Edvin’s answer was the same as always: evasive, as unattainable as he himself was. But in that moment, I didn’t want to delve deeper into his excuse. The uncertainty that had begun to fill the room was becoming unbearable, and I needed something concrete, something tangible, so I could move on without letting the tension consume me. I decided, without thinking too much about it, to change the subject, pushing aside the emotions that were starting to take over me. For now, tomorrow’s meeting was still our priority... or at least, that’s what I tried to convince myself of.
Omar: — Tomorrow we have to decide on the color, shape, and size of the new product. So, since you’re here... Let me show you the first designs. I want you to see this.
I stood up and, without looking at him, walked straight to the desk, opening the drawer to pull out the sketches I had prepared for the upcoming launch. I felt his presence come closer to me immediately, like a shadow that didn’t leave me space to breathe. Still, I was determined to stay calm. I laid the papers out on the table, with the sketches and ideas I had been working on for the past few weeks. There was something satisfying about seeing everything laid out on paper, but at the same time, an inner unease told me the next product still wasn’t complete, that I was still missing that final piece. Edvin didn’t say anything right away, he just moved closer, sat beside me, and began to examine the sketches with an attention that seemed disproportionate for something so trivial. His proximity was unbearable, almost cruel. I could feel his body near mine, too close. The way his presence spread in the space was as if he were invading everything that belonged to me. And my body, traitorous, couldn’t stop reacting to each of his movements. My breath became irregular, heavier. I tried to focus on the sketches, on the colors and shapes, but the feeling of his proximity threw me off center. Every time his fingers slid over a drawing, I felt something inside me light up, as if his invisible touch was running through me from head to toe. I couldn’t think, I couldn’t rationalize anything. All I could do was feel Edvin’s presence, almost invading my space, touching my skin with his soft breath, almost imperceptible, but so close I felt it in every fiber of my being. In an impulsive move, I extended my hand to give him a small jar with a sample I wanted to show him. As I did, our hands brushed. It had been so long since I had felt his skin.
That fraction of a second, when our skins touched, was like an electric shock that ran through my body. The intensity of the sensation made me lose my breath. My pulse quickened, and I felt a discomforting warmth rise up my neck, reaching my cheeks. I tried to hide it, to remain firm, but the vibration of that shared energy still lingered on my skin.
Why did it have to be so hard to ignore?
Edvin, of course, noticed it. There was nothing subtle in his reaction. His eyes gleamed with an intensity that left me speechless, fixed on mine, as if he wanted to pierce me with his gaze. And there, in that instant, I understood something I didn’t want to accept: he felt it too. Everything we hadn’t said until now was collapsing inside that brief touch, that fleeting brush that, though insignificant, overflowed with meaning. I couldn’t bear Edvin’s gaze. His presence was too strong, too penetrating. I lowered my gaze to my hands, as if that could save me from what I could no longer control. But my body wasn’t lying, and even though I tried to hide it, I knew he had noticed: my racing pulse, the slight tension that was now evident in the stiffness of my shoulders. Edvin, as always, seemed unaffected. Or at least not in the way I was. His smile stretched, this time much more intense, much more... playful. All the while, he was biting his lips.
He knew my weak point and how to attack me to completely disarm me.
That smile, so enigmatic and provocative, was enough to make me realize what I already knew but didn’t want to admit: Edvin enjoyed the tension. He enjoyed that invisible friction that had settled between us, that thin line growing more and more blurred. And worst of all, for reasons I couldn’t fully understand, I was enjoying it too—even though it terrified me.
I decided I had to cut the moment short, that I couldn’t let myself be dragged into whatever was happening between us. I forced myself to regain control. I had to think about my boyfriend, about the decision I had made with him: the future we were building. That was the only thing that mattered. And as I thought about it, I felt the pressure of reality tightening around my chest.
Omar: — Look, Edvin… this doesn’t make sense. We’ve talked about this, haven’t we? There’s too much at stake to let ourselves get distracted. I… I have a boyfriend now. You know I’ve made that decision.
The air seemed to thicken, as if those words were an obstacle too difficult to overcome. Edvin didn’t speak right away, his face remained calm, but his eyes—those damn eyes—were piercing me, searching for something, as if he were trying to measure my sincerity. For a moment, I thought I had escaped that tension, but I couldn’t avoid feeling how the atmosphere became even heavier.
Edvin: — I always knew that what we had wouldn’t be easy, but do you really think “your decision” is enough?
His tone was softer than I expected, as if he were trying to manipulate the air between us, making it more... intimate. But I couldn’t let that doubt slip into my mind. I couldn’t afford to get lost in that fog.
Omar: — Whatever happened between us… it has to stay in the past. I can’t keep turning a blind eye. I’m in a relationship—he’s my future, what we’re building together. There’s no room for anyone else.
The truth was out, but as I said it, I felt a pang of unease. My gaze shifted to the papers, the ideas that still hadn’t taken form. I had to stay focused on what mattered, on what I could control. Edvin didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he stayed silent, watching me with an intensity that made me want to disappear. His gaze, as always, was a deep ocean, and I was a castaway struggling to stay afloat. After what felt like an eternity, his lips curled into a small smile, but this time there was no amusement in it. There was a kind of recognition, as if he knew something I still didn’t want to understand.
Edvin: — Relax, Omar. Don’t worry. I already figured you had a... decision made. But don’t forget something: no matter how much you try to seal it off, there will always be something between us. Maybe not now... but sooner or later, you’ll know.
When he said those words, his tone wasn’t one of challenge or reproach. He spoke with a calmness that seemed to penetrate everything, as if that truth had already been written in the air. And the worst part was that, for a moment, I started to doubt. But I forced myself to stay firm.
Omar: — We’ll see, Edvin. But right now, we need to focus on the products we need to release soon. We’re already five months behind. We can’t afford to let anything or anyone distract us.
Somehow, I managed to soften his gaze, but that spark of something more didn’t disappear. We sat in silence for a while, only the murmur of the empty office and the sound of our breathing marking the rhythm. I felt the tension transform, change shape, as if instead of an abyss between us, a layer of ice had formed. I could walk on it, but I knew that, at any moment, if I wasn’t careful, it could crack.
In the end, Edvin stood up, still looking at the sketches with the same attention he had shown before, but without saying another word. I felt relieved that he hadn’t pressed further, but at the same time, something in his posture told me that everything we had said had only served to build more questions, more uncertainties. When he left the office, I stayed there a little longer, staring at the walls, the bottles, the product design, the sketches... And even though I tried to concentrate on my work, an unsettling feeling accompanied me. I could no longer distract myself with Edvin. And while I told myself I had to move on, I couldn’t help wondering if Edvin was right.