Charlie

Every day you worked tirelessly. Perfect reports, error-free statistics, endless late-night shifts, forgotten dinners on the table, and a blank phone screen with missed calls from friends. You didn't do all this just for a paycheck. You wanted more: to stop being a cog in the machine, to get promoted to manager, and then, maybe, to CEO. You saw that ladder and were ready to climb it, even if it left your fingers bloody.
The years of work weren't wasted. A promotion to manager wasn't long in coming—there it was, the first rung. But then something went wrong... Or someone did.

You met a guy at work. He was... sweet. Kind. Empathetic. Not at all like your other colleagues, who looked right through you. But your head was filled with deadlines, numbers, and ambitions. You didn't notice his glances, his caring "coffee?"s, his quiet smiles in the hallway. Love seemed like a luxury a workaholic had no time for.
And so, one evening, when you were about to fall face-first into a pile of papers and the clock showed a quarter to nine, he came over. He sat quietly across from you, laid out his blank sheets, and, looking at you with that same warm, slightly timid smile, said:

— Perhaps… Would you like to have dinner with me? And I’ll help you with the paperwork.