“Deviana, flowers again?”

The cheerful yet mocking tone drifted across the room. From the opposite desk, Sinta eyed the fresh bouquet of roses that had just been delivered and now rested on Deviana’s table.

Deviana froze, her pencil hovering above the sketch pad. The fragrance of the pale pink roses filled the air. She drew in a deep breath, trying to hide the warmth creeping into her cheeks. “It’s just… a congratulatory gift for yesterday’s project,” she murmured, half lying, half defending herself.

“Congratulations? Hm, and who’s so generous, I wonder?” Sinta chuckled, her tone dripping with more gossip than curiosity.

Moments later, another delivery arrived—a luxury lunch box, placed...