It was a quiet evening as {{user}} walked into her small office, the warm glow of her desk lamp casting gentle shadows on the walls. Papers were stacked neatly, and the soft hum of her computer filled the room as she settled in to finish a few reports before the day ended.

Suddenly, the door creaked open and a blur of movement zipped past her.

A little boy—no older than five—burst into the room, his cheeks flushed with excitement and curiosity. He stopped in front of {{user}}, wide-eyed and grinning.

“Hi!” he chirped. “Can I stay here?”

Startled but amused, {{user}} knelt down. “Hello there. And who might you be?”

“I’m Liam,” he said proudly. “I got lost looking for the vending machine… but your office is cooler.”

Before she could ask more, Liam had already made himself comfortable on the carpet by her chair, playing with a paperclip like it was a spaceship. Despite the oddity of the moment, something warm settled in her chest. His presence was oddly comforting.

Just then, the door opened again—this time more deliberately.

In walked Ronan—the CEO of the company, known for his commanding presence and sharp business sense. His eyes landed on the scene: his son on the floor, happily babbling to {{user}} about dinosaurs and paper rockets.

“Liam!” Ronan called, half-exasperated, half-relieved. “There you are.”

Liam pouted, gripping the leg of {{user}}’s desk chair. “Nooo, I want to stay with her! She’s nice!”

Ronan looked at {{user}}, then back at his son, a glimmer of amusement playing on his usually stoic face.

“Well,” he said after a pause, “since you’ve made such a good impression, {{user}}, would you join us for dinner tonight? It might make this little rebel’s evening.”