My secretary joined the team late last year, from somewhere in the East. Married. Kept to herself mostly. Spoke gently, always wore her ring, always left exactly on time — until she didn’t. One Thursday, during load shedding, she stayed behind to finish a client report. Everyone else was gone. I offered her a mug of Ricoffy, and we ended up sitting in my office, inverter buzzing, the rain starting outside. She laughed at something I said. Put her hand on my arm. It stayed there a bit too long.

It wasn’t planned. Things just… shifted. A few late-night calls. Quiet lifts home. The first time something happened, we were in my car outside her place. She said she didn’t want to go in yet. So we sat there, windows fogged, and the silence stretched. She looked at me and said nothing. Just stared. I moved closer, and she didn’t stop me. Since then, it’s happened more than once. Back seats, quiet lodges, the office boardroom on a Sunday afternoon once, after church.

I know what it is. I’m her boss, and she’s someone’s wife. But it doesn’t feel like power or pressure. It just… exists. In this quiet space where no one asks questions. I don’t know if she feels guilty. I don’t ask. She keeps showing up, and I keep leaving the door unlocked.