The Night She Stayed Back

The office always felt different after hours—like a place stripped of its daytime personality. No ringing phones. No hurried footsteps. No half-finished conversations echoing from cubicles. Just quiet corridors washed in the soft glow of emergency lights and computer screens humming in sleep mode. I wasn’t supposed to stay late that night. I’d planned to finish the report in the morning. But deadlines have a way of convincing you that sleep is optional, so there I was—still at my desk at 9:47 pm, typing through the last few sections. That’s when I heard footsteps. Slow ones. I looked up, surprised. Most people had left hours ago. Then she appeared at the end of the aisle—Asha from the analytics team. The coworker who usually kept her hair tied neatly, the one who always had her lunch organized in glass boxes, the one who never failed to give me a polite smile whenever we crossed paths. Tonight, she looked different. Her hair was loose, falling over her shoulders in soft waves. Her blazer was draped over her arm, and the warm desk lamps reflected in her eyes, making them look softer, almost curious. “You’re still here?” she asked. “Unfortunately,” I said with a tired grin. “You?” “Same. My presentation crashed at...