I didn’t plan to like him the way I did. It wasn’t something sharp or loud. It just grew slowly, the way night becomes morning without you realising the time has passed.

His name was Tade.

We worked in the same office, but that wasn’t why I liked him. I liked him because he was gentle. He noticed things without me having to say anything. When work stressed me, he saw it. When I tried to pretend everything was fine, he didn’t push, but he didn’t disappear either. He just stayed close enough for me to feel less alone.

That kind of thing can make your heart start something you didn’t plan.

The first real shift happened one evening after work. I was tired beyond words, the kind of tired that settles in your bones. I sat alone at my desk, staring at my laptop, and he came and stood beside me.

“You look worn out,” he said softly.

“I’m fine,” I lied.

He didn’t argue. He just sat on the edge of the table, close but not too close.

“You don’t have to be strong every day,” he said.

Something about that sentence touched a part of me I had ignored for too long. That night, when I got home, I caught myself thinking about him. Not in a dramatic way. In a warm way. A way that made me smile for no reason.

After that, the fantasy started.

Then came the Friday night that changed everything.

We had a small team hangout. Nothing serious. Drinks, music, gist. I didn’t plan to stay long, but seeing him made me relax in a way I didn’t expect. When the hangout ended, he offered to drop me off because I looked tired.

I didn’t pretend. I just said, “Okay.”

The drive to my house was peaceful. The roads were almost empty. We talked about normal things, but the conversation felt deeper somehow. By the time we got to my gate, neither of us reached for the door.

It felt like we were both waiting for something, even if we didn’t say it.

He turned down the car radio.

“You’ve not been yourself lately,” he said.

“I’m just overwhelmed.”

“I noticed.”

The way he said it made me look at him fully. His eyes were soft, almost careful, like he was holding something he wasn’t sure I was ready for.

“Can I ask you something?” he said.

“Ask.”

“Do you ever… think about me differently?”

My heart didn’t beat normally anymore. It picked up speed, like it had been waiting for this exact question.

I didn’t lie.

“Yes.”

For a moment, he didn’t speak. He just let out a slow breath, the kind you release when you’ve been holding something for too long.

“I’ve been trying not to cross any line,” he said. “But honestly… I think about you a lot.”

My whole body warmed at once. Not in a loud way but in a way that made every part of me aware of him.

He reached out gently, like he was giving me time to pull away, and touched my face. His thumb brushed my cheek, and that small touch felt like a spark.

“If you want me to stop, say so,” he whispered.

I didn’t say anything.

Instead, I leaned into his hand.

And that was enough.

The kiss that followed didn’t rush. It wasn’t wild. It was slow, warm, and full of all the things we had been hiding for months. His hand held my waist gently. Mine found the back of his neck. The world felt far away inside that quiet car. The more we kissed, the more the air changed between us. It became heavier, softer, deeper. My heartbeat was loud in my ears. His breath was warm against my skin. Everything felt too real and too right at the same time.

Things got intense. Very intense. And neither of us stopped it.

I don’t know what tomorrow holds.

But that night?

I finally let myself feel every part of what I had been imagining.

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