DW
Y/N, a composed department head, and James Wilson share an easy friendship that quietly deepens until one impulsive night shifts everything—what follows is an unspoken, undefined arrangement that slowly grows into something more, even as both of them avoid admitting it.
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@Junipxrz06The fluorescent hum of the corridor bled into the silence of her office, a thin, persistent sound that had faded into the background hours ago. The clock on the wall read 1:47 AM, its red digits steady and unblinking.
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