They are in the middle of a meeting.
Kevin stands at the front, presenting the sales report while the team sits around the table, eyes on the projector. Beside Mia, Ben leans forward slightly, sleeves rolled to his elbows, forearms resting on the table. His veins are visible—subtle but defined—each time he moves to write something down.
Mia shifts her gaze, trying not to linger, but her eyes drift back. She focuses on the back of his neck instead, noticing a small mole just below his hairline—something she somehow never caught before. Despite all the teasing and arguments, despite how often he gets under her skin, there are moments—small, fleeting ones—when his actions hint at something softer.
"Okay, everyone," Kevin says, clapping his hands. "Great job. Sales are up, and the CEO wants to treat us to dinner tonight."
The room bursts into applause. Mia blinks, snapping back to the present.
Ben leans in slightly, voice low and teasing. "Were you staring at me just now?"
Her face warms. "I wasn't."
"Sure." His smirk is quick, almost smug, and he doesn't even look at her fully when he says it.
She steals another glance at his forearm, then looks away quickly. This is getting dangerous. Her fingers tap against her notebook before she gives herself a small, discreet slap on the side of the head.
_________________________________________________
The restaurant is buzzing. Plates of grilled meat and seafood fill the long tables, along with half-empty bottles of soju and beer. Laughter bounces around the room, loud and uninhibited.
"Mr. Diaz, give us a speech!" someone shouts from another department.
A chorus follows. "Speech! Speech!"
Mr. Diaz, the CEO, rises with a proud smile, lifting his glass.
"Alright, alright," he says, pausing as the table quiets. "Let's celebrate the success of this month. We've outdone ourselves—surpassing the last few months by a mile. It's all thanks to your hard work and commitment. So tonight, let's eat, drink, and enjoy! Cheers, everyone!"
"CHEERS!" everyone echoes, lifting their glasses and clinking them together before drinking.
The soju burns as it goes down. Mia blinks, lightheaded. She leans toward Jella, voice soft.
"I need to go to the restroom."
"Hmm? Okayyy," Jella replies, her head already swaying.
Mia stands, the room tilting more than it should. She places a hand on the edge of the table to steady herself, but her balance still falters slightly. A soft flush colors her cheeks, rising quickly as the alcohol swirls warm and reckless through her veins.
Across the restaurant, Kevin expression shifts instantly, brows lowering as he watches her sway. His drink hovers just below his lips, forgotten. He doesn't move, but his eyes sharpen with concern.
At another table, Jack his playful smirk fades. He watches with quiet curiosity, gaze tracking the way she straightens and tries to compose herself.
Ben's elbow resting on the table, his eyes locking on her with a tension he doesn't bother to hide. He doesn't speak, doesn't move—just watches, as if assessing whether she's about to fall or walk it off.
Each man caught in their own reaction, focused entirely on one woman.
Mia manages to make it to the restroom, her steps unsteady but determined. She stumbles slightly toward the sink and braces herself with both hands on the cool porcelain.
The cold water shocks her system as she splashes it across her flushed face.
Her reflection doesn't lie—cheeks too red, eyes glassy, shoulders rising and falling with uneven breaths.
When she steps out, she nearly stumbles. Someone's waiting.
Kevin leans against the wall, arms crossed, his black suit sharp under the hallway light. As soon as her eyes meet his, he pushes off the wall and walks toward her.
"You're drunk," he says, voice low and steady.
She straightens, trying to compose herself. "I'm not." The slight wobble in her voice betrays her.
"How are you going home in that state?" he asks, brows drawing together.
"I can manage myself," she mutters, brushing past him before anything more can be said. Her steps are unsteady, but she returns to her seat beside Jella without looking back.
Still, Kevin's stare lingers, heavy behind her.
Jella and Mia drink more than they should. The world blurs at the edges now, and both women sway quietly in their seats.
Jay crouches beside Jella, concern etched on his face.
"Come on, let's go. You're already drunk," he says gently.
But Jella waves him off, voice rising. "No! I don't want to leave Mia here alone!"
Heads turn. A few coworkers glance their way.
Jack approaches from the far end of the room, his steps quick but composed. As he reaches Mia's table. He brushes a hand lightly through her hair, careful not to startle her.
"Mia, let's go. I'll take you home."
Her eyes lift to his, bright despite the haze. "Jack!" she exclaims, smiling as if she's just spotted a favorite person in the crowd.
"Yes, it's me," he says with a soft chuckle, easing her arm over his shoulder. He wraps a steady arm around her waist, guiding her gently to her feet.
"What would I do without you?" she murmurs, leaning into him. "You're always rescuing me. You know I love you…"
He freezes for a moment, caught in the weight of her words.
"…my friend," she finishes, the last part slipping out with a slight slur.
Jack doesn't answer. But in the pause that follows, something changes—quiet, but unmistakable. The kind of silence that says more than any words could.
Just as they turn to leave, Kevin steps into their path.
"Secretary Dizon," he says coolly, eyes trained on Jack. "Can you please escort the CEO home?"
Jack halts, caught off guard."What about Mia?"
"I'll take care of her," Kevin replies without hesitation, already stepping closer.
He reaches for her—too close, too confident. His hand hovers, invasive in its intent.
Startled, Mia recoils instinctively. Her body tenses, and with a sharp flinch, she pushes him back—not forcefully. In the process, she loses her own balance, stumbling backward into the chair behind her.
"AHH!" she cries out, the sudden impact sending a jolt through her.
"Are you okay?" Kevin asks, voice laced with concern, as he steps forward again, reaching for her.
Before he can touch her, another presence cuts through the tension.
Ben.
"I'll take her," he says, calm but unwavering, his voice slicing cleanly through the air.
Kevin turns, startled, but Ben doesn't wait for a response. He steps in, his body angled protectively. With a steady grip, he gently lifts Mia's arm around his neck, crouching low to carry her up with ease.
The room falls into silence, a hush settling over the dinner like fog.
Ben rises to full height, adjusting her gently. Then, without a glance back, he walks—slow, sure, and unbothered by the eyes that follow him.
Kevin stands frozen, lips parted, eyes locked on the two of them as they disappear out the door.
No one says a word.