A Daydream

Otherwise, he wouldn't have sent me those clingy, overly sweet messages after the meeting ended.

Now I knew exactly who he was, yet he only knew me as a faceless nobody within the group. He was in the open, while I stayed hidden. Suddenly, the situation became interesting.

After some thought, I picked up my phone and decided to settle a personal grudge under the guise of work.

"Darling, we can't voice chat tonight. The boss wants us to rush a proposal overnight."

The work group chat immediately pushed a notification. The proposal presentation was postponed by one day.

"Darling, the company cafeteria is terrible. The boss piles on work but pays so little. Should I just quit?"

At noon, the cafeteria suddenly announced bigger portions at no extra cost. That afternoon, Jeremiah cheerfully informed everyone that this month's bonus would be doubled.

As I ate the extra food from the cafeteria, I calculated how much my salary had effectively increased this month. I was in an excellent mood. That was, until one day at the office when I overheard some gossip.

A colleague shared that her friend had tried to break up with an ex, only for the ex to demand repayment for every expense from the relationship. From trips and housing costs to shared in-game top-ups, nothing was spared. The ex refused to end things otherwise.

I felt a sudden chill. Lately, I had been hiding behind the title of his darling to tap into company resources and secure extra perks from him.

I had to cut this off cleanly before we ever met face to face. I asked Mr. Y one final time whether we could meet.

He refused again, saying he was busy with work and maybe another time. I steeled myself and sent the message I had prepared.

"Darling, if we can't meet and I can't even hug or kiss you, we should just break up."

I blocked him without a second thought. After the breakup, no one lulled me to sleep at night. My sleep deteriorated sharply, and the nightmares came one after another.

In my dreams, a secretary led me to his office. I pushed open the heavy door alone and found nothing but darkness.

"Would a hug or a kiss be enough to keep you here?" someone asked in a choked voice.

…

I woke up shaking and covered in sweat. There was no time for sorrow. The project deadline was near, and the team had been grinding nonstop. The only silver lining was that exhaustion sent us straight to sleep as soon as we lay down.

After several exhausting days, the proposal was perfected, leaving nothing for even a god to fault. When I stood outside the CEO's office on the 36th floor once more, the gorgeous secretary informed me that Yoel was absent.

The following day, and the day after, Yoel still hadn't appeared. Unease crept in as I worried something might have happened to him. I quickly unblocked Mr. Y.

As soon as I unblocked him, a location pin arrived with a brief message. "I want to see you."

It led straight to the city center's flashiest bar district.

At the same time, Irene Parker, a secretary I was close to, sent me the same address. "I heard Yoel has been coming here every night lately. If you need to find him urgently, you might want to try your luck there."

I brought the proposal with me and headed to a bar I had never stepped into before. It was not the chaotic, wild scene I had imagined. Instead, it was a quiet bar meant for casual drinks and conversations.

Yoel occupied the most luxurious private room alone, reclining across the sofa. Empty bottles lay scattered across the table.

His eyes were hazy with drink, his cheeks were damp, and the corners of his eyes were flushed red. His shirt was rumpled, the collar slightly open, revealing the faint rise and fall of his chest.

Seeing him in person was far more convincing than any photo he had sent as "Mr. Y".

He clutched something the size of his palm tightly to his chest. It looked like a phone.

I crept closer and greeted him softly. "Mr. Gilmore?"

Yoel lifted his eyelids and suddenly grabbed my hand. His alcohol soaked gaze slowly narrowed. When his eyes landed on the laptop in my arms, disappointment flashed across his face. He immediately released me. "Did Ms. Parker tell you I was here?"

Fearing he would fault Irene, I kept a blank expression and played dumb.

Yoel didn't press the issue. He lowered his head and continued drinking. "Leave the proposal here. I will review it."

The dismissal was unmistakable. Knowing he was safe, I felt a wave of relief and got ready to leave.

Just as I was about to slip away, Yoel suddenly asked, "When you came in, did you see a girl around your age?"

I forced a laugh. "Mr. Gilmore, there are enough young women coming and going in this building every day to fill the elevator lobby. How could I possibly notice?"

He clenched his fingers tightly, staring down at his phone as the light in his eyes dimmed. "Very well. Go on ahead."

"Got it. See you tomorrow, Mr. Gilmore!" I exclaimed as I turned and sprinted away.

From the door's slight opening behind me, I caught the softest stifled sniffle.

The next morning, Irene bombarded me on WhatsApp. "Mr. Gilmore isn't in, but Mr. Maxwell is here to sign. Bring the documents upstairs without delay!"

I snatched up the printed proposal and sprinted to the 36th floor.

My heartbeat pounded in my ears. I pushed open the heavy wooden door and plastered on a cheerful grin. "Good morning, Mr. Maxwell! Here's the revised proposal…"

The smile froze on my face, as if glued there.

In the big executive chair sat Yoel.

Whatever weariness he had shown last night was gone. His shirt collar was crisp, and his sleeves were neatly rolled up, radiating pure elite confidence. Behind his rimless glasses, his eyes were as cold as blades pulled from a freezer.

"You don't seem happy to see me, Ms. Grayson," he said, staring at me coldly.

"Good," he said, methodically opening a drawer and lifting out a stack of papers. "Carry on. Present your proposal."

I dared not glance at him and hunched over the glaring laptop screen.

After just a few sentences, my throat felt painfully dry.

He said nothing, letting his eyes roam over me like a cold, focused beam. A shiver ran down my spine, and my hands grew clammy.

He never interrupted, but I felt movement under the table, as if he were fiddling with something. Then my phone vibrated in my pocket.

I flipped a page and reached to mute it. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him glance at me.

Three rapid vibrations jolted my phone like tiny alarms. I faked a sip of water and tried to act natural, praying he hadn't seen.

After 20 minutes, I wrapped up my proposal and asked, "All done. Mr. Gilmore, is there anything that should be revised?"

He closed his laptop, removed his glasses, and stood. "There's no coffee here. Let's head downstairs for one."

I scrambled to pack my laptop and instinctively reached for my phone, wondering who would be messaging at this hour. Who would spam this early, and why do it during work hours?

The screen lit up with messages from Mr. Y.

I yanked my hand back and shoved the phone deep into my pocket, like hiding a live grenade.

At the door, he stopped and turned. His gaze locked onto me. "Your phone wallpaper looks familiar."

My heart leapt. I forced a calm smile, lightly tilted the phone, and beamed. "Oh, that's my boyfriend! The picture came out nicely, right? You must have mistaken him for someone else."

I wasn't nervous. Instead, he should be the nervous one.

His brow creased slightly, as if something was lodged in his throat. "You have a boyfriend?"

"Yes," I answered instantly, without the slightest hesitation. "We've been in an online relationship for three years. We got engaged three months ago, and our bond is very strong."

The lie sounded completely natural, almost like the truth itself.

He froze, and the color slipped from his face, leaving it ghostly pale.

After a long pause, he whispered, "Is that so?"

The words were barely more than a breath, as if he were seeking proof of a final truth.