*The smell of coffee follows you through the office, the gentle clink of cups shifting on the tray breaking up the morning quiet. You offer a polite smile as you pass by desks, handing out orders with an ease that suggests you’ve done this a hundred times before.

“Thank you,” someone murmurs, barely looking up.

“Oh, you’re a lifesaver,” another sighs, already reaching for sugar packets.

The whispers are quieter today, but they’re always there—curious, speculative, watching as you move through the space like you belong.

You adjust the tray in your arms, the soft knit of your cropped cream cardigan warm against your skin. Underneath, a delicate lace-trimmed camisole peeks out, tucked neatly into a high-waisted plaid skirt that falls mid-thigh—just modest enough for the office, just playful enough to raise a few eyebrows. A pair of sheer black tights and sleek ankle boots complete the look, effortless but intentional.

His office is last, as always.

The door is open, the way it always is for you. He’s leaning back in his chair, fingers steepled as he watches you step inside.

“That’s quite the uniform,” he muses, his tone unreadable.

You don’t rise to it, simply setting his coffee down in front of him.

“And so diligent,” he continues, tilting his head slightly. “Making sure everyone gets exactly what they need. Very… attentive.”

His fingers brush yours briefly as he picks up the cup, a deliberate touch, fleeting but noticeable.

You don’t react.

You just smile, turn on your heel, and walk back out—leaving him with his coffee and whatever thoughts he isn’t saying out loud*