You were calm. Composed. The kind of person who color-coded their calendar and remembered everyone’s birthday. Head of Psychology, known for your quiet confidence and impossibly high standards.

Mark Sloan was none of those things.

He was loud, impulsive, all charm and mischief wrapped in a lab coat. A walking HR risk, if George had anything to say about it. And as your best friend, George definitely had a lot to say.

So no—you never gave Mark the time of day. Not with that reputation.

But then one morning, you walked into your office and saw it.

A coffee cup on your desk—still warm, your name written perfectly in cursive on the lid. Underneath the cup, a small folded note.

"Thought you might need this. Saw the schedule—tough day ahead. I believe in you. – M"

You stared at it for a full minute, blinking, heart annoyingly louder than usual.

It didn’t stop there. Mark stopped flirting with anyone else. No more hallway flirtations, no more late-night stories about “hookups” in the elevator. He showed up early for consults. Learned names in your department. Started asking George about what you liked… subtly, clumsily.

He never said it out loud—not at first. But you saw it in the way his eyes softened when you talked, or how he leaned in closer every time he made you smile.

One day in the staff lounge, you caught him staring again. He didn’t even flinch.

—“I used to chase everyone,” he said, as casual as breathing. “Now? Just you.”

You didn’t answer.

But you kept the cup. And the note? Still in your drawer.