The days passed, and Noah continued working on the reports without rest. He was the last to leave the office and the first to arrive. In addition to reviewing documentation without missing a single detail, he made sure to keep Sebastian’s office impeccable, orderly to an extreme.

There came a point when he began having lunch at his own cubicle. The exhaustion was evident: his skin looked pale, dark circles framed his eyes, facial hair grew without him seeming to notice. His social life had dwindled to nothing. Even so, the determination driving him— to do his job well, to make up for the damage he had caused— did not go unnoticed.

Especially not by Sebastian.

At first, he observed him with silent irritation. He pretended not to notice how Noah stretched awkwardly after hours of sitting, how once he even had to brace himself against the desk because of a cramp that wouldn’t go away. He thought it was an exaggeration. That it would pass on its own.

But it didn’t.

One Thursday afternoon, Sebastian stepped out of his office with a frown etched deep into his brow.

“Damn it, Noah,” he growled. “What the hell are you doing? It’s already late.”

Noah startled, as if he had been abruptly pulled out of another reality.

“D-do you need the reports, Mr. Cross?” he asked, alarmed. “I can give you the ones I already…”

Sebastian clicked his tongue, irritated. That attitude… it was already starting to bother him.

He grabbed Noah’s hand roughly.

“Go home,” his tone was sharp. “I need someone competent, not a zombie.”

Noah nodded immediately. He didn’t argue. Deep down, he knew he was right.

His boss let go of him and looked him over carefully.

“How much longer do you need to finish that mountain of reports?”

“I was planning to use the weekend,” Noah replied, scratching his head. “I’d have them ready the day before the deadline.”

Sebastian frowned, as if he’d just been told something utterly ridiculous.

“I want them by tomorrow night.”

Noah went pale. He hadn’t expected his time to be cut short on those infernal documents.

“Tomorrow…?” he asked, terrified, as if he might faint at any moment.

“Do you have a problem with that?”

Noah shook his head quickly, without answering.

Sebastian was about to keep pressing him, but suddenly stopped.

“When was the last time you ate something decent?”

The question caught Noah off guard. This… was strange.

“I… I’ll eat here,” he replied, opening his bag and showing him a small lunchbox.

Sebastian looked at it as if it were a personal offense.

“That’s not food.”

He pulled money from his wallet —he always liked to use cash— and handed it to him.

“Go to the cafeteria. Now.”

“It’s not necessary, Mr. Cross,” Noah said politely, but very confused by the sudden shift in his attitude. “Really…”

Sebastian hardened and interrupted him again.

“I don’t accept ‘no’ for an answer,” he lowered his voice in a threatening way. “Either you eat something decent now, or I’ll take you myself.”

The tone left no room for doubt.

Noah hesitated for barely a second before nodding. It was strange, disconcerting. But he didn’t want to provoke his anger.

Sebastian turned halfway around, furious with himself.

“What the hell is wrong with me? I was supposed to hate him. Not worry. Not give in.”

And he went back to his office without looking back.

***

In the cafeteria, Noah sat in a secluded corner, as always. None of his coworkers spoke to him. He ate slowly, trying to regain some energy.

He took out his phone to distract himself for a bit. Sebastian’s change in attitude kept circling his thoughts. He needed answers. To remember. Suddenly, he thought of his mother, Claire. She was the reason he needed that job. The treatments, the medications, the constant expenses. He took care of everything.

He sent her a message asking how she was doing. Then he hesitated… and added another, asking if she remembered Sebastian, an old high school classmate, and he lied, not telling her that he was his boss.

Just then, as if fate once again were being unfair to Noah, the blue-eyed man entered the cafeteria.

He saw him alone. Again.

Sebastian didn’t understand why it should matter to him. And yet, his steps carried him toward him.

Noah, noticing his presence, quickly deleted the previous message. He wrote another one to his mother: that he was fine, that his job was good and his coworkers were kind. A necessary lie under the circumstances.

He stood up from his chair —and to his misfortune, almost collided head-on with his boss.

They were too close. For a second, neither of them moved.

Sebastian took a step back, as if the contact had burned him, as if he felt disgust.

“My office. Now!”

His voice was firm, almost cold. He didn’t explain anything. He simply tilted his chin, demanding that he follow him.

Noah felt a knot tighten in his stomach. Had he seen the message? Had he read it?

And he nodded again. He didn’t argue.

Later, in Sebastian’s office, he closed the door with a sharp slam. He turned toward Noah, and his eyes flared with anger.

“What the hell are you writing to your mother about me?”

The silence that followed was thick. Too thick.