As I was buried in the endless cycle of drafting, noting, and redrafting — my fingers wrapped around a drink, the only thing keeping me sane — a sudden touch on my shoulder jolted me so hard that the cup slipped from my grip, spilling its contents down in a messy trail.
The shock shot straight to my tongue before my brain could catch up, "Who the fuc—"
I snapped my head around, but the words died halfway in my throat the moment my eyes landed on her face. Mrs. Claire.
Her wide eyes mirrored the same shock I felt, frozen in place like she hadn't expected such a reaction from me. The air hung heavy between us, the faint scent of my spilled drink mixing with the tension crackling in the room.
"I'm sorry, didn't mean to startle you like that," she said, her voice calm yet hesitant.
"Uh… no, umm, that's fine." I scrambled, flustered, as my hands darted around in search of a tissue, wiping at the mess with whatever I could find—only to realize there was nothing within reach.
Claire, with an amused expression, slid a tissue box toward me—the very one that had been sitting right in front of me all along.
"You’re quite messy," she remarked, lips curving ever so slightly.
A part of me burned to snap back, You are the reason! But I bit my tongue, swallowing the words before they could escape.
As soon as we finished cleaning up the mess, Claire crossed her arms and looked at me. "Why are you still here? Everyone's gone home by now. It's already 7 PM."
I blinked, my mind sluggishly catching up. "Uh… I didn’t realize it."
Actually, Tariq had come by earlier, reminding me it was time to clock out. I had waved him off with a quick, Give me five minutes. Somehow, those five minutes had stretched into over two hours.
The company had always been strict about overworking—no matter how much work piled up, employees weren’t supposed to stay late. There were even annual training sessions emphasizing it. The rule had been set in stone ever since the founder was found collapsed in his office due to overwork. When Mr. Leo and Mrs. Claire took over, they enforced it without exception.
"When we have enough rest, our mind and body will produce better outcomes." That was what he always said.
"Umm, I know… I just didn’t realize it," I mumbled while shutting down my laptop and turning off the monitors.
Claire exhaled, then said firmly, "Hurry up. I’ll drive you home." Without waiting for a response, she reached over and started gathering my things, neatly tucking them into my bag.
"Umm… okay, thanks," I replied, hesitant.
I knew there was no point in refusing—if I even tried, she wouldn’t accept it.
As I slung my bag over my shoulder, Claire was already making her way toward the exit, her movements calm yet purposeful. I followed, still feeling the awkward tension lingering from earlier.
The office was eerily quiet, the usual hum of voices and clacking keyboards long gone. The motion sensor lights flickered on as we passed, only to fade back into darkness behind us. It was a stark contrast to the usual bustling environment, making it all the more obvious that I had overstayed.
We stepped into the elevator, and as the doors slid shut, Claire finally spoke. "You overwork a lot?"
"Uh… not really," I replied, though even I didn’t believe my own words.
She gave a quiet hum, a clear sign that she wasn’t buying it. "Be careful with that. It's a bad habit."
I hesitated before admitting, "It’s just… the past few weeks have been a mess. Ever since the whole thing with Finn, I just—" I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "I guess I’ve been using work to keep my mind off things."
Claire didn’t say anything right away, but I could feel her gaze on me, as if weighing my words.
By the time we reached the parking lot, she unlocked her car with a press of a button and walked straight to the driver’s side. I hesitated for a moment before getting in.
The air inside smelled subtly of leather and something floral—elegant but not overpowering. Claire started the engine, the soft hum filling the quiet space between us.
Claire smoothly exited the parking lot and merged onto the highway. The drive from my workplace to my house usually took around 20 to 30 minutes by car, but if I relied on the bus or got caught in traffic, it could stretch to an hour. Even though Summit River Corp was founded in Rivertown, the area had since evolved into part of the city's bustling business district.
The silence in the car stretched for a while until Claire casually broke it.
"We’re going to dinner."
"Huh?" I turned to her, caught off guard. "But I need to go home. My mom will be worried if I’m late."
She gave a short, sarcastic chuckle. "Scared of making your mom worry, yet you didn’t even glance at the clock while working overtime?"
I opened my mouth to argue but ended up closing it again. She had a point.
"Call your mom. Tell her," she said, her tone more of a command than a suggestion.
With a small sigh, I pulled out my phone and dialed. The beeping sound filled the car, and just as my mom picked up—
"Hello, Mo—" Before I could even finish the word, Claire reached over and snatched the phone right out of my hand, tapping the speaker button.
"Hello, Mae’s mom? I’m Claire, Mae’s boss. She’ll be home a bit late today—I’m taking her out for dinner. Is that okay?"
My jaw dropped as I sat frozen, watching the scene unfold.
"Oh, hello there!" my mom’s voice came through, warm and unconcerned. "Sure, that won’t be a problem. She always skips dinner anyway. Take care of her for me, will you? Thank you."
The call ended just like that. Claire handed my phone back, her expression unreadable.
"See? Nothing to worry about. Your mom literally said, ‘Take care of you.’ So, I will take care of you."
I clutched my phone, still reeling.
"You know," I muttered, narrowing my eyes at her. "It’s not nice to snatch people’s stuff."
Claire glanced at me briefly before returning her focus to the road. "Oh?"
I crossed my arms, puffing my cheeks slightly in fake annoyance. "Yeah. Very rude. Super improper behaviour."
Her lips twitched, as if holding back a smirk. "Noted."
Claire didn’t say anything after that, simply focusing on the road ahead.
After about 30 minutes, we arrived at Skyhaven City—the heart of the country, where towering luxury buildings stretched high into the night sky. The place was alive, buzzing with energy. Neon signs flickered, and the streets were packed with buses, taxis, and people moving in every direction. The lights here never truly went out, as if the city itself refused to sleep.
The moment we entered the city, my exhaustion and stiffness melted away, replaced by a sudden wave of excitement. Without thinking, I rolled down the window and stuck my head out slightly, taking in the dazzling view with wide eyes.
Claire must’ve noticed because she suddenly asked, “You’ve never been here?”
Still mesmerized by the sights, I quickly answered, “Hmm… not really. I’ve been here a few times for family dinners, but I usually sit in the backseat. Never got the chance to see how amazing the view is from the front.”
I turned to her with a grin, but she simply raised an eyebrow, amused. “So, you’re enjoying this?”
I nodded eagerly, my eyes still darting around to take in every detail. I’d never realized how breathtaking the city could be at night.
As I soaked in the dazzling city lights, I noticed something—the car was heading straight toward the tallest building in Skyhaven City. My breath hitched slightly as I realized where we were going.
Skyhaven Tower.
The reason behind the city’s name, this building was the crown jewel of the skyline, its glass exterior reflecting the vibrant lights around it. It was the kind of place I had only ever seen in articles or from a distance, never up close.
Before I could ask, Claire smoothly pulled into the valet parking area. The sleek entrance glowed with warm golden lights, and luxury cars lined the drop-off zone. A valet immediately approached as she put the car in park.
That’s when it hit me.
We had arrived.
.
.
.
            As we stepped out of the car, the valet gave Claire a small nod before taking the keys. I stood there for a moment, taking in the grandeur of Skyhaven Tower up close—the towering glass structure, the elegant entrance, the subtle scent of expensive cologne and freshly polished floors lingering in the air.
Claire, unfazed as always, walked ahead with confident strides. I quickly followed, suddenly aware of how out of place I might look in a setting like this. But then, I glanced down at myself and let out a quiet breath of relief. At least I’m wearing a proper office suit today. If I had shown up in something too casual, I would’ve stuck out like a sore thumb.
We entered the building, and Claire led me toward a luxurious restaurant tucked inside. The interior was breathtaking—soft golden lighting, floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the glowing city, and elegantly dressed guests seated at pristine white-tablecloth tables. The faint clinking of glasses and the gentle hum of conversation filled the space, blending seamlessly with the soothing melody of a live pianist in the corner.
A hostess greeted us with a polite smile. “Good evening, Ms. Claire. Your usual table?”
I blinked. Her usual table?
Claire gave a small nod, and the hostess immediately led us through the restaurant to a semi-private table near the window. The view was nothing short of stunning, showcasing the entire city from above.
Once we were seated, I glanced around, still taking it all in. “You come here often?” I asked, curiosity slipping into my tone.
Claire casually picked up the menu. “Occasionally.”
I pursed my lips. Occasionally? This place screamed exclusivity and wealth, yet she acted as if it were just another stop on her way home.
As I was still processing everything, a waiter arrived with a bottle of water, pouring it into our glasses with practiced elegance. I shifted slightly in my seat, feeling a bit out of place, but Claire didn’t seem to notice—or maybe she did and just didn’t care.
"Order whatever you want," she said, setting down the menu and looking at me.
I hesitated, eyeing the price list. Everything here could probably pay for a whole week of my groceries.
I flipped through the menu, skimming the options while mumbling to myself in a near-whisper.
"Steak ribeye—nah, don’t like it, tastes like chicken liver. Sirloin—hmm, don’t really like meat. Tenderloin—damn, that’s expensive."
I turned the page, scanning for something more familiar.
"Hurmm… fish and chips. Interesting. Oh, chicken chop… coleslaw… yummy."
Lost in my thoughts, I barely noticed Claire watching me until she spoke up.
"Sweetheart, if you keep mumbling like this, how long do you expect the waiter to wait?"
My brain, which had been occupied thinking about cows and overpriced steaks, snapped back to reality. I sat up straight, suddenly aware of the waiter standing patiently beside the table.
"Ah—uh, chicken chop with extra coleslaw, please. And orange juice," I blurted out quickly.
The waiter nodded. "Alright, ma’am. Anything else?"
I looked up at Claire, waiting to see if she wanted to add anything.
"No," she replied simply.
I smiled, then turned my gaze back toward the window, the breathtaking cityscape capturing my attention once again. From this height, the whole city stretched out beneath us, glittering under the night sky. It made me feel like I was in a scene straight out of a movie… or maybe like Spider-Man perched on a skyscraper, watching over the city.
"Mumbling alone like that," Claire's voice pulled me back. "Cute habit, but it’s not good to keep people waiting too long."
I turned to her, pretending to be offended. "Are you saying I’m slow?"
She smirked slightly. "I’m saying you think out loud too much."
I huffed dramatically but let it slide. After all, she did just treat me to dinner.
Claire let me enjoy the view in silence for a minute, giving me time to take in the beauty of the city. It felt almost surreal, sitting here in a luxurious restaurant, staring out at a skyline that stretched endlessly into the night.
Then, just as I was fully lost in the moment, she spoke.
"Tomorrow is the last day."
I knew exactly what she was referring to. Without looking away from the window, I replied, "I know. I've decided, but I'll let you know tomorrow."
She sighed, clearly unimpressed with my answer. "Why not now?" There was an edge of impatience in her tone.
I turned to her, smirking. "Well, I don’t want to overwork. Let’s talk about it tomorrow."
Claire narrowed her eyes slightly. "How is that the same thing? I’m not asking you to work right now."
"But we’re discussing a work matter," I countered, pouting slightly as I added an exaggerated puppy-eyed look for effect.
She stared at me for a second, then exhaled sharply, shaking her head. "Okay, fine. Then forget about me as your boss.”
I blinked, caught off guard. "Huh?"
She leaned back slightly, her expression unreadable but confident. "Let’s talk as friends."
I looked at her, narrowing my eyes slightly. "Friend." I repeated, testing the word on my tongue.
Claire nodded, her posture relaxing as if shedding the weight of authority.
"I have a lot of questions."
I tilted my head. "Okay, but I’m not promising to answer."
There were things I learned early on about work—never overshare your personal matters, or someone might stab you in the back. It was a rule I lived by, a boundary I rarely let anyone cross.
Claire nodded. "Fair enough." She took a sip of her drink before continuing. "I understand why you want to change departments. But moving out of your home… didn’t you live with your mom?"
I sighed, glancing down at my glass, tracing the rim with my finger. "I know, it must seem weird. But not every family is a happy family, right?"
Her gaze softened, and for the first time, her voice wasn’t laced with her usual sharp confidence. "Mind telling me why?"
The way she asked… it melted something in me. No one had ever really asked me how I felt about my family—not like this. The last person who felt like a safe space for me was Kaia. And now, somehow, Claire’s presence felt the same.
I exhaled. "Mom remarried. I just don’t feel comfortable living under the same roof with a stranger."
Claire nodded slowly, as if she truly understood. She didn’t interrupt, didn’t offer empty words—she just listened.
So I continued. "Whatever happens to me, she never really knows. She assumes everything is fine just because I’ve always been the ‘clever girl.’ I used to tell myself I was pretending to be okay so she wouldn’t worry… but now I realize, she never really sees me. She just assumes I’m fine."
I clenched my jaw slightly, the words flowing out faster now. "Looking back, I don’t even know when she met that guy. One day, out of nowhere, she just brought him in and said she was getting married. But when I connect the dots, it all makes sense. The times she told me ‘everything will be fine’ when I was struggling at university… she wasn’t really there for me. She was busy building a new life for herself."
I didn’t sound sad—I wasn’t even sure I felt sad anymore. If anything, a quiet fury simmered beneath my words. Not the kind that burned hot and fast, but the kind that had been slowly boiling for years.
Claire remained silent, listening intently as I spoke.
"Like what happened to me... Believe me, she wouldn’t accept it. She’d put the blame on me instead. She’d probably say, ‘focus on your career,’ blah blah blah. That’s just how she is." I let out a dry chuckle, but there was no humor in it.
I glanced at Claire, gauging her reaction, but she remained unreadable. Still, I knew she was taking in every word.
"The only people who know about this are you, your husband, and your assistant."
The moment the word husband left my mouth, I noticed a flicker of something in her expression—subtle, but there. A reaction.
Trying to shift the conversation, I continued, "You're lucky to have a man like Mr. Leo by your side. He’s a really nice guy. When I look at him, he reminds me of my father."
That seemed to catch her off guard. Her fingers twitched slightly against the table before she finally spoke.
"What about your father? Where did he go?"
I exhaled softly, staring at my glass. "He passed away when I was fourteen."
The weight of those words sat between us, heavy but unspoken. Claire didn’t rush to fill the silence. Instead, she simply listened, and for the first time in a long time, I felt like someone actually heard me.
I glanced at her, a bit startled by the way she said it—soft, almost affectionate.
"I’m sorry for your loss, sweetheart."
That word again. Sweetheart.
It rolled off her tongue so naturally, yet every time she said it, it sent a strange flutter through my chest. Maybe it was just her way of speaking. Maybe she was just being kind. But being gay like me, my mind couldn’t help but overanalyze it. Was she just being warm? Or was I mistaking this for something else?
I shook off the thought and forced a small smile. "Thanks."
Claire rested her chin on her hand, watching me. "You were really young. It must have been hard."
I exhaled, leaning back in my chair. "Yeah, it was. He was the only one who actually saw me, you know? He always listened, even when I didn’t say anything. But after he was gone… it was like I had to grow up overnight. Be strong. Be the ‘clever girl’ everyone expected me to be. My mom just assumed I was fine, so I had to act like I was."
Claire didn’t say anything right away. She just looked at me, as if trying to piece together the parts of me that I never showed to anyone.
Then, after a brief pause, she picked up her glass and raised it slightly. "To your father."
I blinked, caught off guard.
She gave me a small smile. "He sounds like a great man. And from what I see, he raised someone strong."
A warmth spread through me, unexpected but comforting. I hesitated, then lifted my own glass, clinking it lightly against hers. "To my father."
For the first time in a long time, talking about him didn’t feel as painful.
.
.
.
The dinner ended over deep talk and my now-empty plate of chicken chop. Despite how heavy the conversation had been, I felt lighter somehow. Maybe it was because, for once, I didn’t have to carry everything alone.
Claire paid the bill without a word, and before I could protest, she simply gave me a look—one that made it clear there was no room for discussion. I sighed but let it slide.
As we walked back to the car, the night air was crisp, carrying the distant hum of the city. Skyhaven was alive, neon lights flickering, people laughing, cars rushing by. I stole one last glance at the towering buildings before sliding into the passenger seat.
The drive back was mostly quiet, but it wasn’t an awkward silence. It was… comfortable. The kind that settles in when words aren’t needed. I leaned my head against the window, watching the city fade into less crowded streets.
"You’re quiet," Claire finally said, her voice breaking the silence.
I hummed in response. "Tired, I guess."
She didn’t reply immediately, just kept her eyes on the road. "Long day," she agreed.
I let out a soft chuckle. "Long few weeks, actually."
Her fingers tapped lightly against the steering wheel. "Because of Finn?"
I stiffened slightly but didn’t deny it. "Yeah. Work, too. But mostly him."
Claire exhaled through her nose, something between a sigh and a scoff. "You let him affect you too much."
I turned my head to look at her. "You say that like it’s easy to just… stop."
"It’s not easy," she admitted. "But it’s possible."
I wanted to argue, to say that it wasn’t that simple—that some wounds don’t just heal with time, that some people leave scars even when they’re long gone. But I didn’t.
Instead, I closed my eyes for a moment, letting the soft hum of the engine and the distant city lights lull me into something close to peace.
By the time we pulled up in front of my house, it was late. The porch light was on, casting a warm glow over the entrance.
Claire shifted in her seat, glancing at me. "You okay?"
I nodded. "Yeah. Thanks for dinner. And for the ride."
She smirked slightly. "No need to thank me. Just don’t overwork yourself again."
I rolled my eyes but smiled. "Yeah, yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow."
I reached for the door handle, but before I could step out, she called my name.
I turned back. "Yeah?"
Her expression was unreadable for a second before she simply said, "Get some rest, Mae."
Something in her tone made my chest tighten, but I ignored it. With a small nod, I stepped out of the car and made my way inside.
As I shut the door behind me, I let out a deep breath. My mind was still tangled with thoughts—about Claire, about Finn, about everything.
But for the first time in a while, I felt like I could finally breathe.