your neurodivergent boyfriend

It was an ordinary day at work when I first noticed her presence. She was strikingly beautiful, the kind of woman who could turn heads without even trying. Word around the office was that she had joined the company as a social communicator and would be working in the marketing department. Dahlia Rose. The name suited her perfectly.

She came to the office almost twice a week, and whenever she did, she would talk to me. Our conversations were light, but to me, she seemed like the embodiment of everything I had ever dreamed of since I was a kid. She wasn’t just a woman; she was the woman—a vivid, almost impossible dream come to life.

But then there were my colleagues, who always managed to taint even the brightest moments.

“So, what do you guys think about Dahlia Rose? She’s beautiful, right?” I said, my voice casual but betraying a bit of nervousness.

The room went silent for a moment before they all exchanged knowing looks and burst into laughter.

“Of course

“Do you ever feel like people… don’t take us seriously as a couple?”