By the time Elira got home that night, her feet were protesting, her head was full of buzzwords she didn’t understand, and her stomach reminded her she’d skipped lunch again.
Her apartment was modest. The kind of place where the air conditioner wheezed in the summer and the water heater made sad noises in the winter—but it was hers. The walls were bare except for a corkboard pinned with grocery coupons, a to-do list written in three different pens, and a small picture of her parents—faded, but treasured.
She kicked off her shoes, microwaved some leftover sinigang, and curled up on the couch with a blanket that had holes but smelled like home.
As she ate, her eyes wandered to her bag—the one with Liam’s post-it note still folded inside. She hadn’t thrown it away. In fact, she’d smoothed it out twice already.
“Stop it,” she muttered to herself. “He’s just being a good boss. That’s what good bosses do.”
Still… her chest fluttered a little when she remembered the way he’d looked at her during the meeting. Not critical. Not dismissive. Just… present.
And that alone set him apart from every man she’d ever worked with.
---
The next morning, the office was buzzing even before nine.
“Big client visiting today,” Harper whispered, balancing a bagel in one hand and her tablet in the other. “Some hotshot from Seoul. And word is, they’re scouting a local partner for their new expansion wing.”
“So, like… Liam-level important?” Elira asked.
“Try board-of-directors-dropping-by important.”
At 9:30 sharp, Liam walked in wearing a navy-blue suit that probably cost more than Elira’s rent. His hair was slightly tousled in the way that looked like it took no effort—which probably meant it took a full-time stylist.
“Elira,” he said, pausing at her desk. “I need you to assist during the client presentation. Take notes. Translate if needed—they mentioned someone might speak limited English.”
“I—uh—sure! I know conversational Korean. Took two semesters in college.”
He gave her a rare, full smile. “Of course you did.”
She blinked. “Of course I did?”
He tilted his head slightly, as if considering whether to explain himself, then simply said, “You’re thorough. It shows.”
Before she could even blush properly, he was gone.
Harper, passing by with coffee, raised an eyebrow so high it nearly disappeared into her bangs.
“What?” Elira asked, failing to sound casual.
Harper just sipped her coffee with the slow smirk of someone who absolutely knew what was going on before anyone else did.
---
The client meeting was held in the top-floor boardroom, the kind with windows overlooking the skyline and chairs that could make your back feel both powerful and slightly intimidated. The guest delegation arrived in sleek suits, accompanied by an entourage that included interpreters, assistants, and one very fashionable woman who looked like she ran on pure confidence.
Elira sat beside Liam at the far end of the long table, trying to look more experienced than she felt.
Halfway through the presentation, the woman in red leaned in and spoke something rapid in Korean. Liam’s brow creased.
Elira leaned slightly forward and whispered, “She asked if your company embraces collaborative design processes with client input… or if you prefer creative control.”
Liam nodded. “Tell her: We believe collaboration drives innovation. Control without connection is just noise.”
Elira translated fluently, earning a surprised smile from the client.
The woman looked directly at Liam. “Then we may be able to work together.”
A moment of silent understanding passed between them.
And just like that, the tone of the room shifted.
---
After the meeting, as the clients left, one of the interpreters—a young man with a bright grin—paused near Elira.
“Great job in there,” he said. “You don’t speak like someone who just studied for a year.”
“Two,” she corrected, smiling. “And thank you.”
“Jinwoo,” he offered, shaking her hand. “Let me know if you ever want practice conversations.”
Behind them, Liam had paused mid-step. He watched the handshake with narrowed eyes.
“Thank you, Jinwoo. I’ll keep that in mind,” Elira replied politely.
Jinwoo nodded and walked off with his team.
Liam stepped closer. “New friend?”
“He offered to help me practice my Korean.”
“Hm.”
She looked up. “Is that a problem?”
He hesitated. “No. Of course not.”
But his tone said something else entirely.
---
Later that evening, Liam stared out his office window, his reflection faint in the glass. His phone buzzed with a message from Vivienne.
> “Still thinking about me?”
He didn’t reply.
Because he wasn’t.
His thoughts were outside—sitting quietly at her desk, flipping through notes, talking to her plant like it had feelings.
Elira Cruz.
The girl who once passed him in the library without a glance. The girl who asked sharp questions in class but never made small talk.
He remembered her scarf. Always gray. Always the same one.
And he remembered the way she cried once in an empty hallway, not noticing that he’d walked in behind her. She’d wiped her eyes fast, like crying was a sin. Like vulnerability was a weakness she couldn’t afford.
Back then, he didn’t say anything.
Now?
He wanted to say everything.
But timing, he knew, was everything.
And right now, she was still building walls.
So he’d wait.
Slowly.
Carefully.
After all—he’d waited this long.
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