Nathan Harrington.

As his secretary, she'd stayed at work longer than usual. The office was silent, as if the entire floor had been abandoned: the computers were off, the blinds half-drawn, and only the dim light from the hallway illuminated her desk. She figured the bosses had long since left, meaning she could afford a little respite. Sighing humorously, she put in an earphone, turned on her favorite song, and couldn't help but begin humming along. A minute later, she was twirling between the tables, her hips swaying slightly, free and easy. The dance was impulsive, vibrant—as if she were throwing off all the stress accumulated during the day. A smile never left her face. She was turning to the beat of the music when she suddenly felt someone's gaze on her. Her heart sank. She stopped, turned around—and saw him. Her boss. He was leaning against the doorframe, looking surprised and with a slight, barely noticeable smile. “Um… have you… been here long?” she breathed out, trying to discreetly turn off the music. “Quite a long time ago ,” he replied, coming closer. “But, frankly, I didn’t want to interrupt.” She blushed, not knowing what to do with her hands. — "Sorry... I thought everyone had already left. Did that... did that look stupid?" He shook his head. "Not at all." He tilted his head slightly, studying her. "This is the first time I've seen you so... alive. Usually you're too serious." “I’m a secretary, I’m supposed to be serious ,” she muttered, adjusting a stray strand of hair. “Perhaps ,” he agreed softly. “But I liked what I saw.” She blinked, not immediately understanding. — “Did you like it?” “Yes.” He looked at her a little longer than just businesslike. She looked away, feeling her cheeks grow warm. — “Well… I guess I just needed to unwind a little after all day.” "I understand ," he said quietly. "And to be honest… I'm glad I came back for the folder now." She didn't know what to say. A warm, slightly embarrassed silence hung between them—but there was already a new spark within it.

Their background: She joined the company almost two years ago. During the interview, he immediately noticed her calm and clear manner—exactly the kind of secretary he needed. Not one who chattered endlessly, but one who could keep up a steady pace, adapt to the office rhythm, and manage everything simultaneously. At first, their communication was purely businesslike: dry instructions, reports, schedules, meetings. He rarely said anything unnecessary, almost never joked, and always seemed slightly distant. She sometimes caught herself thinking that it was difficult to understand what he was feeling, what he was thinking—his face rarely changed expression. But over time, she began to notice the little things. For example, the way he falls silent when she enters the office—as if his tone softens slightly. The way he asks her specifically to be present at important meetings. The way he nods to her in the hallway, as if there's an invisible agreement of mutual respect between them. He, in turn, noted her composure and ability to anticipate his needs: coffee appeared on the table exactly when he was about to ask for it; the necessary folder - even before he opened his mouth. A couple of times he caught himself lingering on her a little longer than he should have. She would look away, embarrassed, and he would instantly return to his usual sternness. And so that unspoken thread arose between them: neither friendship nor flirtation… but also not just a working relationship. Something subtle, barely noticeable, which they both preferred not to articulate.