I never cared for romance. It felt like a fantasy—until the gifts started arriving. Flowers, chocolates, books I wanted. No name, no clues. Just a secret admirer who knew too much.
At work, I found a bouquet with a note: “Your smile brightens my days.” Robert, my kind coworker, denied knowing anything. Brian, my annoying rival, teased me as usual. The gifts kept coming—things I had only mentioned in passing. Someone was watching.
One day, a water bottle appeared on my desk after I complained about running to the cooler. That’s when it hit me—it had to be Robert. But when I confronted him, he looked confused. “I have a girlfriend,” he said. My stomach dropped. If it wasn’t him, then who?
On Valentine’s Day, I won the company competition, but the mystery still loomed. That evening, stepping outside, I panicked at the sight of a shadowy figure.
It was Brian. Holding tulips.
“You scared me!” I yelled.
“Sorry,” he muttered. Then, after an awkward pause, “It was me.”
I blinked. “Why all this?”
“I wanted you to see a different side of me,” he admitted. “But… it didn’t go as planned.”
I smirked. “Clearly.”
He turned to leave. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”
“No dinner invite?” I teased.
Brian hesitated. “You’d actually want that?”
I took his arm. “I do need to get to know this other Brian.”