The office, once an open-plan expanse of beige and polite professionalism, had become John's battlefield. Every morning, he arrived not just as an employee, but as a suitor. He would place a steaming, perfectly brewed mug of Anita's favourite black coffee on her desk, the kind with the subtle citrus undertones she preferred, a fact he had gleaned from an offhand remark she'd made in a meeting three months ago. Beside it, he would leave a single, white narcissus in a tiny, elegant vase—its scent, clean and subtle, was the antithesis of the office perfume.
The first few times, Anita had simply ignored it. Her assistant, a prim woman named Sarah, had removed the items with clinical efficiency. But John persisted. One morning, he left a small, handwritten note beside the flower. It contained no grand confession, only a simple, observation: "The new marketing strategy is brilliant. A masterclass in subtle aggression."Anita had found the note when she came in later that day. She hadn't smiled. She hadn't even paused. She had simply crumpled it in her hand and tossed it into the bin. But a seed of acknowledgement, however small, had been planted.
John's next move was a meticulous, almost scientific affair. He began researching her interests. He discovered she had a passion for classic literature, a fact hinted at by a rare, leather-bound volume of Virginia Woolf on her bookshelf. He started leaving articles on her desk, not just business-related but literary ones. He'd highlight a passage and leave a small, impersonal note. "Found this and thought of you," was his most daring line.He didn't speak to her, not unless spoken to, and even then, his responses were strictly professional.
The rest of the office noticed the change. The earlier whispers of his "creepy crush" morphed into a strange, detached curiosity. He wasn't a stalker; he was a silent, persistent presence, a ghost in the machine of her corporate life.One rainy Tuesday, the building's power went out. The emergency lights cast a sickly yellow glow. John, whose desk was close to hers, stood up, retrieved a small, battery-operated lantern from his bag, and placed it on her desk, illuminating her in the dim light. He said nothing, simply returned to his chair and continued working on his laptop, its screen a beacon in the gloom. The office was quiet, and for the first time, Anita felt his presence.
The warm light on her desk, a small act of kindness in the cold, unfeeling room, broke through her iron resolve."John," she said, her voice cutting through the silence. "Why?"He looked up, meeting her gaze, his own filled with a quiet, unwavering devotion. "Because you're still working, ma'am," he said simply. "And you need light."Anita stared at him, her blank expression finally cracking. A flicker of something, maybe surprise, maybe confusion, crossed her face.
The mask was gone for a fleeting second, revealing the human beneath. She didn't say thank you. She just looked at the lantern, and then at him, her eyes for the first time reflecting something back. He had not won her heart yet, but he had finally, truly, made her see him.