Nobody knows I stay at work until the cleaners leave

Dear Delyara, I finish work at six. I usually leave around ten. My colleagues think I am ambitious. I am not. I stay because going home is worse. My wife died two years ago. My children live overseas. At the office, air conditioning hums, printers make noise, cleaners talk to each other. Someone exists nearby. At home, the first sound is the lock clicking behind me. I have started timing my departure around the last cleaner. Her name is Mei. She sometimes tells me I work too much. I tell her she does too. Tonight, she left early, and suddenly the whole floor became silent at nine. I sat there pretending to review a document while knowing I had no reason to remain. Loneliness has made me professionally impressive. My boss praised my dedication last month. I nearly laughed. If I had someone waiting at home, my dedication would disappear before the lift doors closed.