That evening, when she found him staring through the rain-covered glass with tears in his eyes, she immediately noticed something was wrong.
The man everyone believed was untouchable looked completely lost.
She stepped closer and asked if he was okay.
He wanted to answer with the same confidence he used in meetings. He wanted to make a joke, dismiss the emotion, and return to the version of himself everyone expected.
But he was tired of pretending.
His hand tightened around the armrest of his wheelchair as years of loneliness finally broke through the control he had maintained for so long.
Then he said the words he was afraid to admit.
He needed love.
The sentence was simple, but it carried the weight of everything he had hidden.
When he whispered for her not to move, he immediately realized how the words sounded. The difference between them was impossible to ignore. He was the man who owned the house. She was the person who worked inside it.
