Part 1 — The Beginning

The office smelled faintly of paper and fresh coffee, the kind of scent that clung to the walls long after the morning rush had passed. Outside the tall glass windows, the city moved in its usual rhythm—cars blurring by, sunlight flickering against mirrored buildings. Inside, it was quieter now, just the soft clicking of keyboards and the occasional ring of a desk phone.

Yara sat at her desk, head bowed over her monitor, though her eyes weren’t really reading the report in front of her. From where she sat—directly opposite the glass-walled cabin of her boss—she had a perfect view of him whenever she lifted her gaze.

Laird Morgan.

The name itself carried weight in the office. He was the kind of leader everyone wished for: firm when needed, but fair; confident, but never arrogant; and most of all, unfailingly kind. He was the one who would stay back with the team when deadlines loomed, who would sign off on maternity leaves without hesitation and, when budgets were tight, quietly contribute from his own pocket to make sure his employees were taken care of.

He carried himself with a quiet dignity, his voice calm even when chaos erupted around him. To everyone else, he was approachable, dependable… and strangely untouchable.

To Yara, he was everything.

It had started slowly—an admiration for his work ethic, the way he listened to people without rushing them, how he treated the janitorial staff with the same respect he gave the senior managers. But somewhere along the way, admiration had deepened into something else. Something she hadn’t planned. Something she couldn’t stop.

The problem was… Laird never looked at her the way he looked at the others.

He had a word of encouragement for almost everyone—except Yara. When the team gathered for meetings, he acknowledged each member with a nod or a small smile… except Yara. When she spoke up in discussions, his eyes slid past her, moving to someone else.

At first, she thought she was imagining it. Maybe he was just distracted. But over time, she realized—it wasn’t her imagination. He was deliberately keeping his distance.

She didn’t know why.

And yet, she couldn’t help herself. She noticed things about him that no one else seemed to catch. How he leaned back slightly after long meetings, a subtle hand pressing against the small of his back as if easing a dull ache. How he pinched the bridge of his nose during late-night work sessions, his shoulders heavy with fatigue. How he skipped lunch on particularly stressful days, surviving on black coffee and determination.

Yara started carrying small things in her drawer for him—painkillers, herbal tea packets, a small jar of peppermint balm. She told herself it wasn’t stalking. She wasn’t pushing herself into his life. She was just… prepared. For when he might need something.

Sometimes she acted on it.

Like the time she overheard him telling a colleague he had a pounding headache. Without a word, she walked to the pantry, brewed his coffee just the way she’d seen him take it—two sugars, no milk—and left it on the counter outside his cabin with a discreet note: Thought this might help.

He didn’t thank her. In fact, when she looked up later, she caught a flash of irritation in his eyes before he turned away.

Still, she didn’t stop.

It wasn’t as though she expected anything in return. She didn’t want grand gestures or even acknowledgment. She just… wanted to be of some small use to him, to make his day a little easier. Even if he never knew it was her.

But he knew.

He noticed her glances—the way her eyes followed him when he walked through the floor, how she straightened in her chair when he stepped out of his cabin. And instead of softening him, it hardened him further.

Laird wasn’t a man who welcomed romantic attention. Not anymore. There had been a time, years ago, when he’d believed in it—when he’d given his trust to someone who’d sworn she loved him, only to watch her walk away the moment things became difficult. Since then, he had built walls high enough that no one could climb them.

And here was Yara—persistent, quiet, watchful. The kind of attention he didn’t want.

Sometimes he caught himself wondering why she looked at him that way. Did she think he was one of those bosses who blurred professional boundaries? Did she think she could charm her way into his trust? The thought irritated him more than he cared to admit.

But she didn’t stop.

One Tuesday morning, when he walked into the office looking unusually tired after an early client call, there was already a steaming cup of black coffee on his desk. No note this time. He didn’t need one to know who had left it there.

By lunchtime, his patience was wearing thin. He didn’t say anything, though. Not yet. Something—he didn’t know what—kept him from confronting her. Maybe it was because she never crossed the line into obvious flirting. Maybe it was because her actions, while unwanted, weren’t loud. They were… quiet. Almost invisible to anyone else.

But to him, they were impossible to ignore.

That afternoon, Yara caught him rubbing his temple during a meeting. She hesitated only a moment before sliding a blister pack of headache pills across the table toward him, careful not to draw attention from the others.

His eyes met hers for the briefest moment. There was no gratitude in them. Only a kind of tired annoyance, as if she had given him something he hadn’t asked for and didn’t want. He pushed the pills back toward her without a word.

Her cheeks warmed, but she said nothing. She simply tucked them back into her bag and looked down at her notes.

The rest of the day passed in silence between them.

But that night, lying in bed, Yara thought about him again. About the weight on his shoulders, about the guarded way he moved through the world, as though he was always braced for disappointment. She didn’t know what had made him that way. She only knew she wanted to be someone who didn’t add to that weight.

Even if he never saw her.

Even if he kept hating her for it.

And Laird, in his own apartment across the city, thought briefly of her too—of the girl at the desk opposite his cabin, who kept watching him when she thought he wouldn’t notice. He told himself it was irritation he felt. Nothing more. But irritation didn’t usually linger this long.

For reasons he couldn’t explain, he found himself wondering what she would try next.

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