Ethan

In an effort to prevent any further mishaps, Ethan found himself in the elevator with Ruth cradled in his arms.

Her form was peaceful in slumber, her vulnerability at odds with the spirited woman he had encountered earlier.

He held her with a cautious gentleness, mindful of her unpredictable reactions.

Thomas stood awkwardly in the back of the elevator, maintaining a significant distance from Ruth.

The memory of her powerful punch still lingered in his mind, a testament to the unexpected strength she possessed even in her sleep.

His hand absently rubbed his cheek as he replayed the incident in his thoughts. He had only intended to assist his boss, never anticipating being on the receiving end of a punch from a sleeping woman.

Ethan's analytical nature sought to unravel the enigma that was Ruth Westwood

Ethan's focus remained on Ruth, his every movement careful and deliberate. He was acutely aware of the weight in his arms, both physical and metaphorical.

Her presence had stirred a complex range of emotions within him, and he was determined to navigate this delicate situation with caution.

He found himself lost in speculation, pondering the mysteries that lay beneath her carefully crafted persona. How could a woman who appeared so delicate possess such a resilient spirit?

He couldn't help but marvel at the incongruities—the way she had confronted the man, the strength behind her punch, and the undeniable fire that had burned in her eyes.

Yet, her physical appearance contradicted these traits, her slender frame and fragile wrists seemingly at odds with the force she had displayed.

In the midst of his contemplation, Ethan's thoughts took an unexpected turn, his internal monologue interrupted by an involuntary blush that crept up his cheeks. His gaze shifted away from Ruth, his mind suddenly occupied with an entirely different aspect of her.

Unwillingly, he found himself reflecting on her physical attributes, his thoughts straying to parts of her anatomy that he had no business pondering in this context.

His cheeks flushed a deeper shade of crimson, and he quickly averted his gaze, chastising himself for the inappropriate direction his thoughts had taken.

The soft hum of the elevator surrounded them, the atmosphere heavy with unspoken tension. As the elevator ascended,

As the elevator doors slid open, Ethan's gaze swept the hallway before him. He stepped out carefully, his movements fluid as he carried Ruth's slumbering form. The corridor was quiet, a stark contrast to the tumultuous emotions that churned within him.

Thomas followed at a respectful distance, his gaze shifting between the two figures. He had played an inadvertent role in this unfolding narrative, and the events of the day had left an indelible mark on him.

As they approached the door to Ethan's residence, Thomas stepped forward pressing the password to the door and opening the door to let Ethan and his wife inside their house.

It was the first time; Mrs. Westwood was going inside his boss's house. He wondered if the new circumstances in their life might bring them closer.

Thomas had been with Ethan for 5 years and he had seen his boss suffer, he wondered if Mrs. Westwood was the change that his boss needed, to bring some much-needed smile to Ethan's face and happiness into Ethan's life.