chapter 3

Next Day

Yesterday just… passed. Like poof.

I woke up way earlier than usual. Washed up, took a quick bath, and headed straight to the kitchen to make something before the chaos started.

Sure enough, it didn’t take long.

“Oh, you woke up early?” Mom greeted me, still yawning.

“Morning,” I smiled. “Want some tea?”

“Yes! With biscuits, please!” chimed in Billy and Becky—my two little siblings, who somehow had more energy than coffee.

I made tea for everyone, dropped a few cookies on their plates, and sat down for a minute. Mom soon took over cooking breakfast, and I just watched the scene—warm and messy, like always.

Then I glanced at my phone.

Oh shoot. Time to get dressed.

“Gotta go, Mom!” I gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and hugged my siblings, who smelled like milk and mischief.

Mom waved at me with a spatula. “Drive safe!”

I grabbed my keys, slipped into my heels, and headed out.

At the office…

“Morning,” I said, walking past the front desk and into the open workspace.

My boss—Rocky, in his usual perfectly pressed shirt and neutral face—looked up from his screen.

“Morning,” he replied simply.

I went about my usual tasks: sorting emails, answering calls, organizing files, and reviewing the schedule he gave me. I was actually getting the hang of this assistant thing… kinda. Okay, maybe I wasn’t amazing, but I hadn’t been fired, so that was something.

“Lily.”

His voice called out from his office.

I grabbed my notepad like it was a sword and rushed inside. “Yes, is there anything I could do for you?”

“What time’s my meeting?” he asked, eyes still on his tablet.

“You’ve got thirty minutes. Then tonight, there’s a dinner meeting with a few CEOs from Sunra Tech and Medallia Corp,” I said, flipping through the schedule. “They confirmed just an hour ago.”

“Good. Thank you.”

I gave a quick smile. “Okay then… I’ll see myself out—”

“Wait.”

I froze.

He reached beside his desk and handed over a folder—thick, like ‘this will ruin your day’ thick.

“Prepare these reports. Clean and summarized. Before lunch.”

I looked down at the stack.

...Help.

But I nodded like I totally knew what I was doing.

“Of course,” I said. Internally? I was screaming

Twenty Minutes Later

And boom. Done.

Don’t ask me how, but I finished the reports in exactly twenty minutes. Maybe I blacked out and unlocked some kind of office superpower? Like a paperwork ninja? Assistant Mode: Activated. I didn’t even drink coffee.

I double-checked the formatting, straightened the papers like I knew what I was doing, and knocked lightly on his door.

He looked up as I entered. No smile, no compliment—just a small nod. But trust me, in boss language, that was basically a standing ovation.

“You’re coming with me,” he said, standing up and grabbing his coat.

“Wait—me? To the meeting?”

“You’re my assistant.”

Well. Okay then.

I power-walked behind him like a baby duck in heels, holding my tablet and praying I wouldn’t trip on the elevator carpet. We got into his car and headed to some big glass building with lots of important-looking people in suits walking around like they were late for saving the economy.

The meeting room? Freezing cold. The air conditioner was set to “arctic tundra.” I was definitely not dressed for that. My arms were goosebumpy and I couldn't even focus on what anyone was saying because my brain was just chanting, "Soup. Blanket. Soup. Blanket."

I sat beside Rocky and pretended to take notes. Most of it went way over my head. They were talking about numbers, projections, integrations, marketing flows—I wrote down the word “integration” because it sounded smart.

After what felt like three years, the meeting finally ended. People shook hands, clapped backs, and Rocky gave one of his cold, polite nods that somehow intimidated a whole room.

We walked out, and I was already dreaming about a hot chocolate and maybe a nap on my desk when—

“Lily,” he said, holding out a list.

Here we go again.

I took the paper and squinted at it. It was… names. A whole list of names.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“People we’re designing uniforms for. They need to be measured. You’ll take care of it.”

“Oh.” I blinked. “You want me to take people’s measurements? Like… tape measure and all?”

“Yes.”

“But what if someone takes off their shirt?!” I blurted.

He didn’t even blink. “Be professional.”

Sir. You just gave a whole job to someone who can’t even fold a fitted sheet without crying.

—

Later That Day

There I was, in a corner office with a measuring tape in one hand and my phone in the other, Googling "How to measure a person without looking awkward."

The first person on the list was a very cheerful intern named Kevin who kept flexing every time I got near his bicep.

“Ma’am, do you want me to take off my—”

“Nope!” I cut him off. “We are staying fully clothed in this establishment, thank you.”

Next came Sarah, who brought her lunch with her. She chewed while I measured her shoulder span.

Then came Mr. Jun, who was about eight feet tall and wouldn’t stop asking if he should “squat a little so it’s easier.”

By the end, I had tangled the measuring tape into a weird knot, dropped my phone twice, and written down someone’s height as “tall-ish???”

Assistant of the year. No doubt

Back at the Office…

I walked down the hall looking like a knock-off tailor who moonlights as a confused intern. The measuring tape was still around my neck like a weird scarf. My bun had somehow turned into a side puff. My clipboard had doodles on it. I was this close to asking someone to measure my stress levels.

I pushed open the office door without knocking. Professionalism? Who’s she?

“I’m back!” I announced. “And everyone’s still fully clothed. Success!”

Rocky looked up from his laptop. Blank expression. Classic.

I held out the clipboard. “Here’s your data. I wrote things in actual numbers and not vague descriptions like ‘tall-ish.’ I’m proud of me.”

He took it without a word. Just a nod. Again with the nods. Does this man own emotions? Feelings? A ‘wow, good job’?

Nope. Just another—

“You missed someone,” he said, flipping to the last page.

“What?” I snatched the sheet back. “No, I did not! I double-counted and everything. One, two, three—wait...”

There was a name scribbled at the very bottom. In tiny letters.

Rocky.

Oh no.

“Oh no.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“You want me to take your measurements?” I asked, clutching the tape like it might save me from spontaneous combustion.

“You’re the assistant.”

“But like... can’t we just... guess?”

Silence.

I sighed dramatically and mumbled, “Okay, milord, raise your arms or whatever…”

And just like that, I started measuring my boss while pretending I was in a parallel universe where I wasn’t red in the face and muttering things like “broad shoulders, okay flex much” under my breath.

Just as I was trying to get the shoulder width—without touching him too much or too little—the office door suddenly swung open.

“HEY LILY! You forgot your—”

It was Kevin. Intern Kevin. The very same guy I’d measured earlier.

He froze. I froze. Rocky blinked.

Kevin looked from me, to Rocky, to the tape measure hanging between us like some weird tension line.

“Oh. My bad,” Kevin said slowly, grinning way too much. “Y’all busy?”

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