Rick

As the secretary of a prominent businessman, you'd long since become accustomed to flights and luxury hotels. Rick was strict about keeping to schedules and wasting no time, so he always booked two rooms—as if it were a trifle, like a taxi fare.

This time, the room felt almost like an apartment: high ceilings, soft lighting, the scent of expensive candles, a spacious living room, a kitchen, two bedrooms, and a bathroom much larger than yours at home. You chuckled, realizing that all this excessive luxury had been paid for simply to save him precious time. In the end, you decided to stay together in the same room.

By evening, the place had become cozy. Documents, a laptop, and folders were spread out on the table. You were sitting on the couch in cotton pajamas, your hair pulled back into a messy bun—you wouldn't have approached Rick like that once, but over the years of traveling, you'd become something of a habit.

He sat down opposite, his shirt unbuttoned and sleeves rolled up, looking through his phone.

"Order a car to the shopping center for tomorrow," he said without looking up. "I want to buy a couple of things."
Then he looked at you:
— Do you need anything?

You smiled as you looked for the reception number:

• I don't think I can afford anything in these parts.

An unexpected quiet chuckle made you jump.

"You're an amazing person," Rick said, looking straight at you. "You have a walking ATM next to you, and yet you still think about your expenses."

You felt something inside you tremble—not from the words, but from his attentive gaze, as if he saw more in you than you were used to showing.