It was nearly midnight, and I was the only one left in the office. Deadlines loomed over me like a storm cloud, and I was determined to finish the report that had been haunting me all week. The quiet hum of the building was almost comforting, a stark contrast to the chaos of the day.

But as the hours stretched on, exhaustion began to creep in. I leaned back in my chair, kicking off my heels and letting out a sigh. In an unthinking moment of relief, I propped my feet up on the desk and loosened the top button of my blouse, trying to shake off the tension. It wasn’t the most professional posture, but it was late, and I thought I was alone.

That’s when I heard the unmistakable sound of the office door opening. My boss, Mr. Reynolds, stepped in, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on me. For a split second, I froze, my feet still on the desk, my blouse slightly undone. His eyebrows lifted in surprise, and the awkwardness of the moment hung in the air like an unwelcome guest.

“Burning the midnight oil, I see,” he said finally, his tone neutral but his expression hard to read.

I scrambled to compose myself, hurriedly sitting up and adjusting my blouse. “Yes, just trying to get the quarterly report done,” I stammered, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks.

He nodded but lingered for a moment too long before turning and leaving the room.

Since that night, things have felt…different. His once-friendly demeanor has been replaced with a subtle distance, and I can’t shake the feeling that he’s questioning my professionalism. Every interaction feels loaded, as if he’s waiting for me to confirm whatever assumption he’s made.

I’ve been racking my brain about how to address the situation. Should I bring it up directly, clear the air? Or would that only make it worse? The last thing I want is for a single lapse in judgment to derail everything I’ve worked so hard for. But the weight of it is becoming unbearable, and I know I need to find a way to make it right.