"Back at the Office"
The elevator doors opened with a soft chime, and I stepped into the office, heels clicking softly on the polished floor.
My blouse was tucked just right, lipstick subtle but perfect.
From the outside, I looked composed, confident, unchanged.
But inside?
My thoughts were still tangled between yesterday's kiss and last night's message.
As I walked past the reception desk, I noticed it.
A beat too long in the receptionist's glance.
A half-smile that faded as soon as I made eye contact.
My brow furrowed slightly, but I kept walking.
Down the corridor, two interns leaned closer over a screen and whispered before quickly straightening up when I passed.
One of them offered a forced smile.
Okay… that was weird.
At my desk, my inbox was full, my desk exactly as I left it, yet everything felt off.
Like the air was laced with something unsaid.
I sat down slowly, scanning the room.
People weren't staring. Not exactly.
But they weren't staring either.
And then my screen blinked.
📩 New Message from Mr. Michael
"Ella. Step into my office when you're free."
My stomach flipped.
I stood, smoothed my skirt, and walked down the hall toward his glass-walled office.
Each step felt louder than the last.
When I knocked lightly, he didn't look up right away. "Come in," he said.
The door clicked shut behind me.
Mr. Michael stood by the window, his posture unusually relaxed, hands in his pockets, eyes on the skyline.
He turned slowly, his gaze settling on me with that same unreadable calm that made him such an effective leader, and such a frustrating enigma.
"Thank you for coming," he said.
I nodded. "Of course. You asked to see me?"
He studied me for a long moment. "I did. I just wanted to check in. After yesterday."
"Yesterday?"
"The day off," he clarified, stepping closer. "I hope it helped… even a little."
I hesitated. "It did. It was… unexpected."
He nodded, pausing before speaking again. "I meant what I said in the message."
My heart beat faster. Message.
"I wasn't sure if you saw it," he added. "But I wanted you to know, it wasn't just a formality.
I meant every word."
There it was again, that quiet sincerity.
The kind that didn't need volume to carry weight.
I searched his face. "Mr. Michael… I appreciate that. But"
"I know," he said quickly, a small smile ghosting across his lips.
"This isn't a conversation for now. Or maybe not ever. But I also know this place"
He glanced toward the frosted glass window where shadows of colleagues moved beyond.
"is full of people who live for whispers and rumors. So if you hear anything… know it didn't come from me."
I blinked. "Rumors?"
A short nod. "Someone saw you yesterday. At Joe's office."
I stiffened.
"It's none of my business," he said quietly, "but in this environment… anything personal gets weaponized.
Just… be careful."
His tone wasn't jealous. It wasn't possessive. It was something else, protective? Respectful?
"Thank you," I said softly. "For the warning. And for… whatever yesterday was."
He met my eyes, and for a fleeting second, I thought I saw something flicker there.
A want, held in check. A truth unsaid.
"You're a good employee, Ella," he said finally. "But more than that, you're a good person.
You deserve kindness. In and out of this office."
I swallowed hard, unsure of what to say.
He turned back to the window.
"You're dismissed," he said gently.
I walked out, my heels once again echoing through the corridor, but this time, they were matched by the louder thud of my heartbeat.
In one day, everything had shifted.
And now, I wasn't sure what I was walking back into: an office of rumors, the arms of a new love, or the beginnings of something entirely unexpected with a man I thought I'd figured out
Between Lines and Looks
By mid-morning, I had all but memorized the way people paused their sentences when I walked by.
The printer room was the worst, small enough to trap whispers, loud enough to drown denial.
I had ducked in to pick up a report, only to overhear two familiar voices from marketing.
"I'm just saying, it's bold to visit your boyfriend in broad daylight. In his office, no less."
"She's got guts. Or maybe something else is going on."
"Don't forget Mr. Michael. He's been... unusually nice to her lately."
Laughter followed.
The kind that wasn't playful.
The kind that curled under your skin and stayed there.
I clutched the paper tighter, heart racing.
I didn't confront them. I didn't turn around.
I simply left, the weight of their words tucked tightly under my ribs.
Lunch with Joe
Joe showed up just after noon, just like he always did when he sensed something was off.
This time, he didn't bring food.
Just his eyes, sharp, searching, and that familiar pull of protection wrapped in concern.
"I figured you hadn't eaten," he said as he led her outside, away from the buzz of the office, to a small corner café two blocks away.
We sat in a quiet booth by the window.
I stirred my iced tea absently, avoiding his gaze until he finally broke the silence.
"What's going on?" he asked, not unkindly. "You've barely said three words since I got here."
I hesitated. The café hummed with life, cutlery clinking, doors opening and closing, light conversation in the background, but I felt oddly detached from it all.
"They're talking about me," I finally said. "About us."
Joe's jaw tightened. "I figured."
I met his eyes then. "They saw me in your office. And they're connecting dots I never drew."
"They're idiots," he said flatly, leaning back. "People talk. It doesn't mean they know anything."
"I know," I said. "But it's still... uncomfortable. I've worked hard here, Joe.
I don't want to be known as someone who gets ahead by flirting across departments."
Joe leaned forward, resting his arms on the table.
"You didn't flirt your way into anything. You earned every damn thing on your résumé and more.
And anyone who doesn't see that is just jealous or petty."
I smiled, but it didn't reach my eyes. "It's not just them."
Joe tilted his head. "What do you mean?"
I paused. Then, carefully: "Mr. Michael. He's been acting... different."
Joe's expression didn't change, but the air between us did.
"How different?" he asked, tone low.
I looked away. "He texted me last night. Said I mattered. That there were things he wanted to say but couldn't."
Joe's hand curled into a fist around his napkin. "Did he ever cross a line?"
"No," I said immediately. "Nothing inappropriate. Just… it felt personal.
Too personal. Like there's something unspoken, and I don't know what to do with that."
Joe's jaw twitched. "Do you want him to say more?"
The question hit harder than I expected.
"No," I whispered. "I just want things to go back to normal. But I think normal has already left the building."
We both sat in silence for a moment.
Finally, Joe reached out, taking my hand gently in his.
"I'm not going anywhere, Ella," he said. "But if this… if us… If ever it threatens your peace or your job, you have to tell me."
I looked at him, really looked.
This man had been steady, solid, always there.
But now? There were cracks in the comfort. And beneath them… questions I hadn't yet dared to ask myself.
"I will," I promised, my voice quiet. "But I'm not ready to make any big decisions yet."
Joe nodded, his grip loosening just slightly. "Then we'll take it slow."
We finished lunch without saying much else. But the silence this time was thick with everything unspoken.
As we stepped out of the café, the sun peeked through the clouds, casting a warm glow over the street.
I tilted my face toward it, eyes closed for just a second.
But even with the sun on my skin, I couldn't shake the feeling that a storm was coming.
One that had nothing to do with the weather.