Monday came in loud.
I barely had time to sit before my phone buzzed.
"Client review at 9. Status update by 11. Can we hop on a quick call before lunch?"
From the manager.
I rolled my eyes. Define quick.
I opened my inbox: 63 new emails. "Three flagged red. Two marked URGENT in all caps, which, in corporate language, meant someone else forgot to do their job and now needed me to perform a miracle.
"Happy Monday," I muttered to myself, already typing furiously.
There was no time for Joe.
No time for dreamy smiles or stolen glances. Not today.
My fingers flew across my keyboard. "Calendar updates. Status reports. Drafting strategy notes while on mute during a conference call.
I toggled between spreadsheets, sorted files, mediated a brief team drama, and scheduled a client feedback session for Wednesday without blinking".
By lunchtime, I had barely moved from my seat, and my coffee was a distant memory.
My hair was slightly frizzy. My blazer had a mysterious pen mark. But my eyes were sharp, my to-do list half-conquered.
By 3 PM, I was leading a team brainstorm with three juniors and two sleepy creatives, and somehow still managing to inspire them.
My voice was calm, "but commanding, ideas crisp, feedback fair.
I leaned back in my chair. "It's one of those days. I barely remember what I had for lunch."
I had just wrapped up a discussion with a junior staff member, giving them feedback on a client proposal.
A soft chime broke through the clatter of work life. "My phone".
I glanced at the screen absentmindedly… but the moment I saw the name Joe, my chest fluttered like it had its heartbeat.
Joe ❤️
Just checking in. I know you're probably running the office like a queen, but I couldn't stop thinking about you.
Your laugh, your warmth, the way you looked curled up in my arms yesterday morning.
It's distracting in the best way. "Hope your day's treating you well". Let me know if you need a reason to smile, I have a few dozen waiting for you. 😉
My fingers froze on the keyboard. I reread the message slowly, each word a gentle brush against the very center of me.
My lips parted in a soft smile, and without realizing it, my free hand pressed lightly over my chest.
He remembered the morning.
He remembered my laugh, the way I curled into him.
It wasn't just a one-night haze. It mattered. And it mattered to him.
My colleague, still mid-sentence beside my desk, paused when he noticed my faraway gaze.
"Ma'am?" he asked hesitantly.
I blinked, snapping back to the present. "Yes, sorry, go on."
But my heart was already drifting, sweetly and stubbornly, to Joe. I tapped out a reply as discreetly as I could under my desk:
Ella 💫
You're not helping, you know. I was trying to be the boss, and now I can't stop blushing. But I miss you too.
Your arms… your smile… everything. Maybe I do need a reason to smile, care to deliver in person later?
My phone lit up again within seconds.
Joe ❤️
Say the word, and I'll be at your door with your favorite snack, that look in my eyes, and maybe no shirt. Because I know how distracted you get. 😈
I bit my lower lip, holding back a laugh. I looked up and caught my reflection in the dark screen of my laptop.
My eyes sparkled. My cheeks held that glow that couldn't be bought or bottled, the kind that only came from someone who had burrowed quietly into my heart.
I hadn't even realized I missed him already. Not until that message.
And now, as I sat surrounded by noise, reports, and the pull of my responsibilities, I felt something deeper stirring.
That yearning. That connection. That quiet knowledge that I had found something real in the most unexpected place.
I whispered to myself, so softly no one could hear, "What are you doing to me, Joe?"
But in my heart, I already knew.
He was reminding me how it felt to be seen, to be cherished even on the most ordinary of days.
And suddenly, I couldn't wait for the evening to come.
By 3:45 p.m., the presentation was submitted, inbox cleared, and my team had sent me three separate Slack messages saying "Queen behavior."
I leaned back, stretched, and let out a breath.
Exhausted. But satisfied.
The presentation room slowly emptied, the buzz of accomplishment still humming softly in the air as I closed my laptop and gathered my notes.
My heart was lighter than it had been in weeks. The figures had landed right, the strategy was solid, and the applause from the boardroom wasn't just polite, it was real, impressed, and almost proud.
As I stepped into the hallway, my phone buzzed. "A message from the front desk.
"Ms. Ella, the manager would like to see you in his office."
My breath hitched for a moment. Had something gone wrong? No, impossible. The data was solid, and I knew it.
I knocked gently on the glass door of the office.
"Come in," Mr. Michael's warm, calm voice said.
I stepped inside. He was already rising from his chair, buttoning his suit jacket.
"Ella," he said, smiling genuinely and unmistakably pleased. "That was an exceptional presentation.
I've been in this game for more years than I care to count, and I don't give compliments lightly. But today? You nailed it."
My shoulders relaxed, my lips pulling into a smile I hadn't even realized I was holding back.
"Thank you, sir. It was a team effort."
He waved the modesty away gently with one hand. "Sure, but the brilliance was in the leadership. And that came from you."
I nodded softly, grateful. "It means a lot coming from you."
He motioned toward the small seating area in the corner of the office, a low table, and leather chairs. "Sit. Just for a minute. You've earned a break."
I followed, and he poured two glasses of sparkling water, handing me one.
"So," he said after a short pause, eyes watching mine, tone deliberately casual, "any plans to celebrate this little victory?"
I tilted my head slightly. "Honestly, not really. Maybe "just sleep off the stress tonight."
"That won't do," he replied with a faint chuckle. "What you achieved today deserves a toast, at least dinner.
My treat. Strictly professional, of course." Then, after a beat, softer: "But also... out of genuine admiration."
I smiled again, but slower this time. There was something in his voice. Not forward. Not inappropriate.
But something warm, tentative. The kind of kindness that seemed like it held more behind it, but hadn't dared name it yet.
"I appreciate that, sir. Dinner sounds lovely," I said carefully, professionally. My voice was warm, but still guarded.
"Great," he said, his smile widening just slightly. "I know a quiet place, nothing fancy. Think of it as a debriefing over good food."
I chuckled lightly. "That's one way to put it."
As we talked about logistics, I noticed the way he avoided eye contact a little too often, or how his hand brushed his watch when silence hung for more than a second.
He wasn't the kind of man who seemed easily nervous, and yet here he was, measured and deliberate.
And I, for all my clarity and confidence in that boardroom, couldn't ignore the quiet question in the air between us. One that hadn't yet been asked.
By the time I left his office, I wasn't sure what dinner it would be. A celebration, yes. But maybe also the start of something more complicated.
Or maybe not.
I'd see.
The city's warm glow painted the windows of the upscale restaurant where I sat across from my manager, Mr. Michael.
The ambiance was polished, with the soft hum of jazz and clinking cutlery as a backdrop.
Candlelight flickered between us, casting a golden hue on my face.
I looked effortlessly elegant, dressed in a soft cream blouse tucked into tailored pants, my hair swept back with a simple pin.
Mr. Michael had always maintained a professional air. But tonight, there was a subtle difference.
His eyes lingered a little longer. His smile, usually reserved and formal, had softened.
"To hard work," he raised his glass, "and to the woman whose precision and creativity gave life to this project."
I clinked my glass gently with his. "Thank you, sir. It means a lot to hear that."
"Call me Michael," he said with a smile that almost seemed shy. "At least for tonight."
I hesitated slightly but nodded. "Alright... Michael."
Our dinner continued with easy conversation, mostly about work, sprinkled with shared laughs and the occasional personal anecdote from Michael.
He never crossed any lines, but there was a gentle attentiveness to him, a warmth that seemed to test boundaries without quite breaching them.
Later that evening, after I got home, my phone buzzed. It was Joe.
"Hey," his voice came through with that calming edge I always found grounding.
"Hi," I said, relaxing against my couch. "I just got back in. It was a long dinner."
"I know," Joe replied, keeping his voice even. "Sophie mentioned something about it. Your manager, right?"
"Yeah," I answered carefully. "He took me out to celebrate the presentation. Said it was a thank you for all the effort."
There was a pause. Not heavy, but noticeable.
"Was it... nice?" Joe asked, and I could sense the layers in that simple question.
"It was," I said honestly. "Professional. Appreciative. But... I did notice he seemed a bit different tonight. Softer, I guess?"
Another pause.
Joe chuckled lightly, not bitterly, but more to let something out. "I mean, who wouldn't notice you, El?"
I smiled faintly, not knowing how much to say or what not to say.
"I'm not jealous," Joe added, voice gentler now. "Okay, maybe a little. But more than that, I just... I trust you."
I felt my chest tighten. "Thank you. That means everything."
"I know what we have. And I don't want you to feel like you have to filter your life around me. "Just... talk to me. That's all I ask."
I nodded even though he couldn't see me. "I will."
There was silence, the kind that wasn't awkward, just filled with unspoken understanding.
"You've got someone who sees your light, El," he said quietly. "So even if others admire it, I know where it belongs."
That night, as I hung up and lay in bed, I felt something anchor even deeper between them. Not out of possession. But out of choice. Out of trust.
Before heading to bed, I grabbed my phone and called Sophie. The screen lit up with my best friend's face as the call connected.
"Your mouth!" I exclaimed, half-joking, half-exasperated.
Sophie burst into laughter on the other end. "What did I do now?"
"I wanted to tell Joe myself that I went out with the manager," I said, sinking into my pillows, the duvet pulled up to my waist.
"But noooo, you already mentioned it before I had the chance. Now I feel like he thinks I was trying to hide it."
"Oh, my friend…" Sophie sighed playfully, still chuckling. "Sorry about that. I didn't mean to spill it like that. It just came up when he asked what you were doing after work."
I groaned. "Now he'll think I was being sneaky. I hate that feeling."
Sophie's tone softened. "Don't worry, babe. Joe trusts you. He might've felt a little weird about it at first, but he knows your heart. Everything will be cool."
We stayed quiet for a moment, letting the words settle. Then Sophie's voice perked up again.
"Okay, gist me. How did the dinner with Mr. Manager go?"
I smiled, thinking back to the soft lighting of the upscale restaurant, the respectful compliments, the clinking of wine glasses.
"Well… it was surprisingly nice. He was "professional, but also kind. He talked about how impressed he's been with my work lately, how much growth he's seen.
It wasn't weird or flirty... well, not too flirty. Maybe a little... in a polite way."
Sophie gasped dramatically. Polite flirtation! My goodness, Ella! It seems you're caught between two men now."
I giggled. "Don't even start."
"I'm serious!" Sophie teased. "One is sweet, quiet, and intense... and the other is charming, powerful, and possibly harboring a workplace crush."
I rolled my eyes, though a small blush crept up my neck. "You're making it worse."
"No, babe. I'm making it exciting." Sophie laughed again. "Just don't let your heart get confused.
Joe's a good one. But hey, doesn't hurt to have options."
I smiled, my thoughts drifting. "I just don't want to mess things up."
"You won't," Sophie said, firm now. "Just keep being honest. With Joe. And with yourself.
And next time let me know if you want something kept quiet before I turn into town crier!"
We both burst out laughing, and the tension eased.
"I swear you're trouble," I mumbled fondly.
"And yet, you love me."
"Unfortunately."
As we ended the call, I set my phone down and leaned back with a thoughtful smile.
Between two men or not, my heart already knew where it leaned. But life… life had a way of making things deliciously complicated.