The elevator chimed, and the doors slid open. I took a deep breath and stepped into the quiet lobby.
The moment I entered, all eyes shot up, locking on me. But as soon as they saw it was me, they quickly resumed their work, going back to whatever they'd been doing before.
My heels clicked sharply against the polished marble, echoing in the empty space as I made my way toward the glass doors marked with the bold letters: Chief Executive Officer, Mario Thayer.
The usual quiet hum of the office was still there, but now, it felt like I had an audience. And I couldn't help but smirk, knowing the effect I had as I walked past.
I pushed the doors open and stepped into Mario's office, feeling that familiar scent of espresso and costly leather, engulf me.
He looked up from his desk, and his sharp eyes scanned me from head to toe before narrowing slightly.
"You're late," he said, his voice carrying that authoritative tone I'd come to expect.
I waved him off. "Don't start, Mario. I had a lot going on this morning." I stepped further into the office, and dropped into the chair opposite him.
He wasn't going to lecture me, not today, not on my birthday.
"Yeah, obsessing over your naked body must've taken up so much time," he said dryly.
Mario's lips twitched into something between a scowl and a smile. The disapproval lingered in his eyes, but there was something amused behind it too, an old habit of his, masking care with sarcasm.
I smirked, rolling my eyes as I perched myself on the edge of his desk, nudging aside a stack of neatly organized files. "Oh, you have no idea. I spent at least forty-five minutes deciding which version of hot mess to show the world today."
He snorted but said nothing, reaching into his desk drawer with a practiced motion. He pulled out a small, velvet-covered gift box, his usual stern expression softening as he set it down in front of me.
"What's this?" I asked, brows lifting. I wasn't expecting anything, certainly not from him.
In the seven years I'd known this man, not once had he given me a gift. Not a card. Not a cake. Not even a Post-it note with bad handwriting.
He always said gifts were 'too sentimental' to be given to people you don't actually care that much about.
And while that used to sting, I'd grown used to his brutal honesty. That was just who Mario was—blunt, rigid, emotionally constipated.
Though… he never mentioned it, every year he wired me a ridiculous amount of money, always matching my age, and always in five figures.
Once, I worked up the nerve to ask him about it. He denied it flatly, like it was the most absurd question he'd ever heard.
We never spoke of it again.
"Happy birthday, Lili," he said, and I could hear the slightest hint of affection in his voice. "It's from Julia."
And just like that, I felt the emotional floor beneath me crack open.
A knot rose in my throat, unexpected and unwelcome. My eyes burned, and I had to blink fast to keep the tears from falling.
Julia.
It had been months since I'd last seen her, but just the sound of her name brought back a wave of warmth and memories.
Julia had always been like an older sister to me. A gentle, grounding presence in the chaos that was Mario's world.
She'd met me just a few months after Mario and I became acquainted. They were dating back then, and despite barely knowing me, she'd looked me in the eye and said, 'You're walking me down that aisle as chief bridesmaid, no arguments.'
I'd tried to argue anyway. She'd shut me down with a laugh and a hug.
From that day on, she'd become a kind of constant in my life. The kind of woman who remembered your favorite coffee and your worst days. One who sent voice notes instead of texts. One who hugged you till you couldn't breathe.
I wasn't emotional because of the gift, it was more the guilt. I'd been so caught up with work lately that I hadn't checked in on her, yet she still remembered my birthday.
"She said you'd pretend to hate it," Mario added, his voice softer now. "But you'd keep it anyway."
I didn't open the box just yet. I couldn't. My fingers hovered over the lid, but my chest felt tight, like even breathing too hard would break the spell.
I looked up at Mario and back down, then slowly untied the ribbon, my fingers trembled a little as I peeled the paper away. When she opened the box, her breath caught in her throat.
Inside, was a simple yet stunning silver bracelet. The engraving on the surface made my breath catch: 'For the woman who keeps going, even when the world doesn't see.'
I swallowed hard, trying to keep my composure, but the message hit me harder than I expected. I ran my fingers over the delicate writing, feeling a warmth spread in my chest.
"It's beautiful." I whispered.
Mario leaned back against his desk, his eyes studying me closely. "She said you needed a reminder. That you do a lot, and not everyone sees it, but she does... We do."
I blinked, feeling the sting of unexpected emotion. "I'm going to cherish it," I said softly, slipping the bracelet onto my wrist with swift, deliberate care.
Mario gave a small, lopsided smile, one of the rare, genuine ones before snapping back into his usual tone. "Alright then, off you go." He waved his hand dismissively, like he was shooing a chicken.
I let out a quiet laugh, brushing away a rogue tear that had slipped down my cheek. Closing the tiny box, I tucked it carefully into my clutch before rising to leave.
"Welcome to the club of 3s," Mario called from behind me.
I paused at the door and turned to face him, the corner of my mouth curving into a smirk.
"Don't forget to send me money. It's 30k this time."
And with that, I walked out of the office before he could respond.
•••