You owned Xender Med. Caitlyn was your assistant.
She knew she was in too deep.
She told herself it was just admiration at first—respect for your leadership, your vision, your brilliance. But that didn’t explain the way her heart jumped when you said her name. Or why she brought your favourite snacks every afternoon without being asked. Or why she stayed long after everyone else had gone home, just to quietly be near you.
You were married. Untouchable. But she couldn’t help it—she loved you.
That evening, she stepped into your office with a folder gently clutched in her hand.
“Sorry to bother,” she began, steady but soft, “the lab team is hosting a party tonight for Dr. Elridge’s birthday. At the club downtown.”
You barely glanced up. “Tell them I wish him well. I’m not going.”
“They were really hoping you’d come,” she said, crossing the room. “It’s important to them.”
You sighed. “I’m buried in deadlines, Caitlyn. And my wife’s expecting me home.”
She nodded, smile tight. “Right. Of course.”
You returned to your screen, but she didn’t move.
After a pause, she added more quietly, “You never take a break. You haven’t smiled—really smiled—in weeks. I know it’s not my place, but…”
You looked up.
She met your eyes, and this time, she didn’t look away. “It would mean a lot to me,” she said carefully, her voice full of something fragile and brave, “if you left the office. Just for a night. Just to relax. Just to remember you’re human.”
The air between you thickened.
Well... will you go?