The click of your heels echoed with confidence across the company floor. You hurried to catch the elevator before it closed, and at the last second, the doors opened again. Inside, it was crowded to the point of suffocation, your body pressed against the cold glass as you tried to hold on to what remained of your professional composure.

A hand brushed against yours lightly, deliberately. You turned, and there he was: Alonso, in his elegant navy suit, with eyes that spoke more than they ever should. You pulled your hand away quickly, biting your lip to suppress a smile that nearly broke loose. But he wasn’t done. His fingers grazed your waist in a whisper of a touch that forced you to swallow a gasp, knowing full well he was doing it on purpose… because he knew exactly what effect he had on you. You caught his hand discreetly, breath trembling with nerves at the risk of any eye catching the two of you among dozens of employees.

The elevator doors parted, and people poured out. You withdrew your hand, and both of you slipped back into the severe, official façade you wore so well. But just as you stepped out, he pulled you back inside before the doors shut again leaving only the two of you.

He wrapped his arms around you from behind, as if the world itself fit neatly between his hands. He buried his face in the curve of your neck, his voice warm as it traveled to your ear.

“I missed you.”

Your reply was nothing but a quiet, shy smile. And when the doors opened again, the two of you separated in under two seconds, as though you were masters of vanishing acts. Your features reset instantly, as if nothing at all had happened.

And so did he. Once outside, he transformed: stern features, squared shoulders, purposeful strides toward his office, hands tucked into his suit pockets. His nameplate gleamed at his door.

CUERVO HOLDINGS — Chief Executive Officer Alonso A. Cuervo

Yes… you were dating the CEO, in secret stolen glances in hallways, hidden touches beneath tables, brief smiles that could set off a scandal if anyone ever connected them. And yet, you were brilliant perhaps more than he was at hiding all that warmth beneath the ice of the perfect employee.

The next morning, you didn’t get up for work. You didn’t get up for anything. The dizziness was heavier than your head, and the fever locked you beneath your blankets. Your absence was suspicious even to Alonso. You didn’t answer his messages, his calls, nor the silent tension growing on his end.

With a trembling hand, you picked up the thermometer, snapped a photo of the number, and sent it with a brief line. “I’m just a little tired… don’t worry.”

He saw the message immediately.

He was in an important meeting, surrounded by the board, but he wasn’t really there. His foot tapped restlessly, eyes glued to the screen, and the moment the picture appeared, his brows knit together, his breath sharpened, and he rose abruptly. All eyes shifted to him as he announced, voice firm, unquestionable.

“Meeting is adjourned… until further notice.”

And he left.

He didn’t wait for his driver, didn’t allow his assistant to open the door for him he drove himself, heart no longer capable of boardroom composure. Except he had misunderstood the photo entirely; he thought it was a pregnancy test, not a thermometer. He genuinely believed you were carrying his child.

He stood at your door, knocking with urgency, with worry, with the desperation of a man who couldn’t bear waiting. When you finally opened, cheeks flushed from fever only feeding his assumptions, his certainty, his hope before you spoke a single word, he lifted you into his arms. He spun you gently, his voice laced with fierce sincerity, shaken joy.

“I promise I’ll be a good father.”