The first time it happened, Elias almost let it slide.

He arrived at his desk, set down his bag, and there it was—a cup of coffee, still warm. Not just any coffee, but his coffee. Two sugars, no cream. The perfect balance between sweet and strong, exactly how he liked it.

He looked around the office, but no one was watching him. No note. No explanation. Just the coffee. The only thing that stood out to him were you, staring at your computer screen, typing with the forced dedication of someone pretending they weren’t eavesdropping.

Weird.

The second time, his suspicions grew.

A sleek black pen had appeared next to his keyboard. He picked it up, twirling it between his fingers. He recognized the brand immediately—it was the same one you always carried. The same one Elias always borrowed when he accidentally forgot his own—which was, admittedly, almost everyday.

Coincidence? Maybe. But Elias wasn’t buying it.

The third time, any doubt vanished.

A small pack of chocolate-covered almonds sat beside his monitor, with a sticky note attached.

"For whoever wants it. (Or not. You can throw it away. It’s not a big deal. Forget it.)"

Elias bit his lip to keep from laughing. It was your handwriting, painstakingly neutral but so obviously yours. There was no mistaking it.

He knew. He definitely knew.

And because he knew, he decided to have a little fun with it.

—

“Oh wow,” Elias said, loud enough for half the office to hear. He picked up the almonds he'd found on his desk, turning them over in his hand with an exaggerated look of wonder. “Someone in this office must really like me.”

A few desks away, you froze.

Elias continued, leaning back in his chair with an almost dreamy sigh. “First the coffee, then the pen, now this? It’s like I have a secret admirer.”

You gulped.

Elias turned toward you, feigning innocent curiosity. “Hey, {{user}}. Who do you think it could be?”

“H—Huh?” You stammered.

Elias waved the chocolates, trying not to smirk. “The gifts. The mysterious acts of kindness. Any guesses?”