The door creaked open, and both of them froze.
A janitor stepped inside, humming softly, pushing his cleaning cart. “Oh sorry, Mrs. Johnson. Didn’t know anyone was still here.”
Emily let out a shaky breath, forcing a smile. “It’s fine, Henry. I was just finishing up.”
Adam straightened his tie, heart still racing. “I was leaving.”
The old man nodded politely and stepped aside as Adam hurried out. He didn’t look back, but he could still feel Emily’s eyes following him until the elevator doors shut.
That night, Adam barely slept. Every image replayed, the closeness, her whisper, the sound of her husband’s voice through the phone. The guilt clawed at him, but the ache was stronger. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something between them ha
