On Monday morning, Lila arrived at work determined to behave normally.
No thinking about Adrian. No replaying conversations. No wondering why his words stayed in her mind longer than they should.
She sat down, opened her laptop, and focused on work.
Ten minutes later, her boss called her into his office.
"I have something important for you," he said, adjusting his glasses.
That sentence usually meant stress.
"We're developing a new drama series," he continued. "And the investor wants to personally oversee the story development."
Lila felt a slow, sinking feeling in her stomach.
"And," her boss added, "he specifically requested to work with you."
Of course he did.
Her jaw tightened slightly.
"When do we start?" she asked calmly.
"This afternoon."
At 2 p.m., she walked into the small conference room.
Adrian was already there, sitting at the table, reading through a file.
He looked up when she entered.
"Lila."
Just her name again. Soft. Steady.
"Mr. Adebayo," she replied, professional.
He almost smiled at that.
"Sit," he said, gesturing to the chair across from him.
They began discussing the story idea-a love story about two people who didn't trust love but found themselves drawn to each other anyway.
Lila raised an eyebrow.
"That's very original," she said dryly.
He leaned back slightly.
"You don't like it?"
"I think," she said carefully,
"that stories about guarded people falling in love are often unrealistic."
"Why?"
"Because guarded people don't fall easily."
"No,
" he said quietly. "They fall deeply. That's the difference."
She looked at him.
For a moment, the conversation didn't feel like it was about fiction anymore.
They worked for two hours.
And something unexpected happened.
They were... comfortable.
Not close. Not friendly.
But comfortable.
They argued about character motivations. Debated dialogue. Disagreed about endings.
And Adrian didn't dominate the conversation.
He listened.
Actually listened.
That surprised her more than anything.
At some point, the electricity went out.
The room fell into quiet darkness, except for the faint light from the window.
Neither of them moved immediately.
Then Adrian said softly, almost casually:
"You don't laugh easily."
She blinked.
"That's random."
"It's an observation."
"You observe too much."
"And you avoid too much."
Silence.
The air felt heavier now.
"You think you understand me," she said quietly.
"No," he replied. "I think I want to."
That sentence lingered in the space between them.
The generator came back on.
The lights returned.
And the moment broke.
They continued working as if nothing had happened.
But something had.
Something small. Something quiet. Something neither of them named.
As they packed up to leave, Adrian spoke again.
"Why do you write love stories if you don't believe in love?"
She paused.
Then answered honestly.
"Because I believe in what love could be... not what it usually is."
He studied her face for a moment.
"That's not disbelief," he said softly. "That's hope with scars."
She didn't respond.
Because he was right. And she hated that he was right.
That evening, as she walked home, Lila realized something that unsettled her.
Adrian didn't make her feel small. He didn't make her feel chased. He didn't make her feel pressured.
He made her feel... seen.
And that was far more dangerous.
Because being seen meant being vulnerable.
And vulnerability was something she had sworn never to give freely again.
Meanwhile, Adrian sat in his car outside the office for a long time before driving away.
He wasn't smiling.
He wasn't distracted.
He was thinking.
Because Lila was not easy to impress. Not easy to charm. Not easy to reach.
And strangely.
That was exactly why he wanted to know her.