The Call
The morning sun had barely crept through the blinds when I stood in front of my mirror, adjusting the collar of my blouse.
It was another ordinary workday or so I thought. my bag rested by the door, neatly packed the night before, my heels clicked softly on the tiled floor as I moved about with quiet precision.
I was just reaching for my car keys when my phone buzzed.
My brow furrowed slightly. I hesitated. Then answered.
"Hello?"
"Ella," came the voice familiar, deep, unmistakably composed.
It was Mr. Michael.
"Take today off," he said, with a gentleness that took me off guard. "No work today. Just rest. You've earned it."
For a moment, I didn't respond. My mind scrambled to catch up with what I'd just heard.
The words were simple, the message clear but the man delivering them? That's what made it strange.
"Uh… thank you, sir," I managed, still stunned. "I'll see you in the office tomorrow, then?"
"Yes," he said, and I could almost hear a smile tug at his voice. "Take care, Ella."
The call ended.
I stood there, unmoving, my phone still pressed to my ear even though the screen had gone dark.
Take care, Ella.
It echoed again in my mind softer this time, and far more personal than anything I was used to from him.
It wasn't just what he said. It was how he said it.
This wasn't protocol. Mr. Michael I know wouldn't call directly. He was the kind of manager who moved through channels through assistants, office memos, calendar invites.
His authority was crisp and professional, never veering into personal territory.
So why me?
Why now?
I set my phone down gently on the dining table and sank into the nearest chair. Outside, the city moved on in its usual rhythm. Inside, my day had shifted entirely.
For the first time in a long while, I had nothing to do, nowhere to be. And for the first time, I questioned whether my manager saw me simply as a reliable employee, or something more.
The uncertainty sat with me, not heavy, but not light either. Just… there.
I glanced at my untouched bag by the door, then turned away from it. I wasn't going in today. The boss had said so.
But deep down, I knew: this day off wasn't just about rest.
It was the beginning of something.
A Little Surprise:
With the day unexpectedly free and the echo of Mr. Micheal's voice still lingering somewhere in the corners of my thoughts, I decided I wouldn't let the hours idle away.
If Joe could surprise me at work, showing up with coffee or lunch like it was second nature, then today, it was my turn.
I packed his favorite grilled chicken sandwich with sweet chili sauce and a side of homemade potato salad and dressed in a soft olive-green dress that flattered my curves without trying too hard.
I didn't want to look like I planned it too much… even though I had.
The ride was short, the sky painted a soft gray, threatening a drizzle that never quite "came".
I arrived just past noon, walking into the reception of Joe's building with the quiet confidence of someone who knew exactly what I was doing.
"I'm here to see Joe," I told the receptionist with a warm smile. "Ella."
"He's in a meeting right now, but you're welcome to wait," the woman replied, clearly recognizing the name.
There was a softness in her expression, a knowing look that made my heart beat just a little faster.
I settled into one of the plush lobby chairs, my bag with the lunch box resting on my lap.
Every few minutes, I glanced up at the glass-walled hallway beyond the reception.
Through it, I could see shadows moving Joe's tall figure among them.
Ten minutes passed. Maybe fifteen.
Then, finally, he stepped out of the meeting room.
When his eyes met mine across the lobby, he stopped.
A pause. A beat.
Then he dismissed the group with a few quick words and long gestures. His team peeled off in various directions, some glancing my way in curiosity, others smiling subtly.
Joe made his way over, still loosening the cuff of one sleeve. His eyes didn't leave mine, but there was a flicker of guilt behind them.
"Oh dear," he said the moment he reached me, his voice low and full of apology. "I didn't know you were coming. Sorry, I kept you waiting."
I stood, letting the bag slip from my shoulder as I grinned. "I thought I'd return the favor today.
You surprise me at work all the time. Figured I owed you one."
He laughed softly, rubbing the back of his neck as his eyes drifted to the bag in my hand. "Is that what I think it is?"
"Lunch," I said, handing it over. "Homemade. And no, I didn't poison it."
"Well, damn," he murmured, clearly touched. "And here I was, planning to go another afternoon on bad coffee and vending machine peanuts."
I tilted my head, teasing, "So I saved your life?"
He smiled a real, slow, appreciative smile. "You did."
And then, gently, as if checking the temperature of the moment, he reached out and brushed her knuckles with his fingertips.
The touch was small, simple. But in an office full of windows and watchful eyes, it said enough.
"I'll clear the next hour," he said. "You've just made my whole day."
Joe leaned back in his chair, his eyes warm and fixed on me.
The late afternoon sun streamed through the blinds, casting golden slats across the room.
The atmosphere between us had shifted softer now, more intimate.
"You didn't have to bring lunch, you know," he said with a small smile, unwrapping the parcel I handed over.
"I wanted to. You've done it so many times for me," I replied, perching lightly on the edge of his desk, legs crossed.
He took a bite, then gestured with his fork. "This is good. You cook this?"
"I did," I said with a bit of pride.
He swallowed and nodded appreciatively. "I could get used to this."
A beat of silence passed before he added, a little quieter, "You look beautiful, by the way.
That dress… dangerous for office hours."
I laughed, glancing down at the simple sundress I had thrown on. "This? It's casual."
"Exactly my point," he said, setting the container aside. He stood, closing the space between us with deliberate steps.
"Come here," he said softly, tugging me gently by the waist.
"Joe…" I whispered, half-scolding, half-laughing.
"This is my office," he said with a grin, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear.
"Nobody dares come in here without my say-so. Relax."
I rolled my eyes. "Don't be naughty."
"Who, me?" he said, pressing a small, teasing kiss to my cheek, then my jawline. "Completely innocent."
I let out a breathless laugh, resting my hands against his chest. For a moment, time slowed.
The noise of the office beyond his door faded into nothing.
His hands lingered at my waist, and our eyes locked something unspoken moving between us.
"This… us… feels so right," he murmured.
I nodded, smile softening. "It does."
He leaned in again, and this time, the kiss deepened. Gentle. Unrushed. Full of emotion.
When he pulled away, his forehead rested lightly against mine.
"I wish you didn't have to leave," he said.
"I wish I didn't either," I whispered. "But…"
"But you're a responsible woman with a life outside my office," he said with mock resignation, stepping back.
"Exactly."
He walked me to the door, his fingers brushing mine one last time.
"Text me when you get home?" he asked.
"Always."
And with a final glance and smile, I stepped out heart full, cheeks warm, and the lingering taste of his kiss like a secret tucked beneath my skin.