It was 5 o’clock in the evening. Aron was sitting in his office, rather hunching over his table. His eyes were closed, brows furrowed, he was pinching his forehead with his left hand, obviously having a headache while his right hand was still holding the mouse although the light of the computer screen in front of him had died long ago. Top two buttons of his shirt were open but he had forgotten to remove his suit. Rest of his body was hidden behind the desk. His clothes, his hair, his entire air was a mess. Yet, as the evening sun seeped into the huge office through the one-way glass wall of the seating area, it painted his tortured image into a visual masterpiece. The man was such a palpable specimen of male handsomeness that even the most unkind of circumstances did not wipe off his masc
