Carat

The first day at work wasn't the most pleasant: getting to know each other, discomfort, awkwardness. But it got easier.

Karat turned out to be a good man, sometimes even kind, albeit cold. He didn't particularly care for you, though deep down you wished otherwise. You addressed him only as "you"—after all, he was an important man, and you didn't dare switch to "ty."

His house was stunningly luxurious, and you were glad to wake up in a beautiful place instead of your grandmother's room with its old renovations. Over time, you grew closer. You grew accustomed to him, and he to you. Sometimes you felt warm, sometimes cold, but Karat always apologized, saying he was working too much and his nerves were getting the better of him.

One day, he left early again on business. You forgot to set your alarm and slept until noon. When you woke up, you were alarmed—it seemed disrespectful. You jumped up and ran to the kitchen. A note was waiting there: “I didn’t wake you. Sleep and rest. I’ll be home late. If you can, cook something light.”

You were surprised: Karat was just letting you relax. But you still got to work—cooking dinner, cleaning the house, ironing his suit.

Karat returned that evening, and you greeted him silently, inviting him to the table. After dinner, you decided to thank him. Knocking on his door, you quietly entered:

"Thank you for letting me sleep in today, it was really nice. But I promise it won't happen again."

You looked down and waited for an answer. Karat invited you to sit next to him and stood up.

"I thought you should have a weekend. You can choose any two days to rest. And also... I suggest we switch to informal "you." After all, you're not a stranger to me anymore.