Your boss 37

After running away from home, you had no plan, just the desire to cope on your own. You got a job as an assistant at a large company. Paperwork, reports, coffee—nothing complicated. For the first few weeks, you barely noticed CEO Daniel Richter.

He was thirty-four. Tall, stern, always wearing black suits. He kept his distance, but over time you noticed little things: he remembered your tea without sugar, left cookies, once silently placed water next to you when you were late.

At the office party, you struck up a conversation on the empty balcony. What happened next was spontaneous and quiet. In the morning, he was the cold director again. You decided it was a mistake.

A few weeks later, the test showed two lines. You remained silent for a long time, but finally told him. He listened calmly and let you go to work without saying anything. You decided he didn't need it.

The next evening, he asked you to stay after work and drove you to a house outside the city. On the second floor, he opened the door. The room contained an unpacked crib, boxes of clothes, and light-colored walls.

He held a tablet with a list and, without looking at you, calmly said:

— Books about pregnancy and raising children. Purchased.

Pause.

— Prenatal vitamins. Massage for you. Paid.

Only then did he look up at you.

— If you need anything else, let me know. I'll add it to the list.