By 10:30, hush blankets the city, a kind of quiet energy that pulses through Maputo's streets like a slow current.
At the Night Star Hotel, Christian strides through the polished corridor with Eliane by his side. He carries a tablet under his arm, thumb absently brushing across the smooth glass as if rehearsing thoughts. Eliane, ever punctual and collected, keeps pace beside him, her heels clicking softly on the marble floor.
They approach the conference room, the wide oak doors already slightly ajar. Inside, a few team members are gathered, setting up laptops and preparing their notes for the 10 a.m. check-in. As they reach the threshold, Christian slows and glances sideways at her.
"You can go home after this meeting," he says quietly.
Eliane blinks, surprised. "Are you sure?"
Christian nods. "You shouldn't even be here today. It's Sunday."
A small smile plays at her lips, warm and touched. "I'm your PA, Christian. It's my obligation to come whenever you need me."
