Devraj lay against the headboard, his laptop balanced on his lap, eyes sharp as one of his managers droned on about projections.

His jaw was set, his presence commanding even from a screen.

The room was quiet, until Ira slipped in.

She carried a stack of freshly pressed clothes in her arms, her steps soft, almost careful not to disturb him.

She didn’t interrupt, didn’t even look his way. She simply crossed to the walk-in closet, that faint smile tugging at her lips as she ...