CineFiles

My boss rejected me in front of the entire office. Three months later, he was on his knees begging me not to marry someone else. #Officeromance • #Forbiddenfeelings • #Jealousy • Power games •#Slow-burn obsession The most humiliating day of my life was the day I confessed my feelings to my boss. And the worst part? He didn't reject me privately. He did it in front of fourteen employees, a tray of untouched birthday cake, and the woman he'd been sleeping with for six months. I'd worked at Blackwood Holdings for three years. In all that time, Daniel Blackwood had never once called me beautiful, never complimented my appearance, and never given me a reason to believe I was anything other than his most reliable employee. He was thirty-five, divorced, devastatingly handsome, and emotionally colder than the air conditioning in our twenty-second-floor office. He remembered every mistake I made but somehow remembered my coffee order, too. He'd send a car when I worked late. He'd notice when I skipped lunch. Once, when I had a fever and insisted on finishing a presentation, he cancelled an entire meeting, drove me home himself, and sat outside my apartment until my sister confirmed I was asleep. Then he'd walked into the office the next morning and criticised my report in front of everyone. That was Daniel. He could make you feel like the only woman in the world at midnight and a complete stranger by nine the following morning. I fell for him anyway. Quietly at first. Then stupidly. Then so deeply that I began measuring my working days by the number of times he walked past my desk. On my twenty-eighth birthday, my colleagues organised a little celebration after work. Daniel showed up unexpectedly, carrying a gift bag. Inside was a first edition of my favourite novel, one I'd mentioned wanting only once, months earlier. There was no card. Just the book. I spent that night convincing myself that a man who remembered something so insignificant about me couldn't possibly feel nothing. Two weeks later, after a disastrous evening of wine, courage, and terrible decisions, I walked into his office and told him the truth. I loved him. He stared at me for so long that I wished the floor would swallow me whole. Then he glanced at the glass wall separating his office from the conference room, where several employees were still packing up. "Is this what all those late nights have been about?" he asked. I went cold. "Daniel, that's not—" "You're a good employee, Amara. Don't confuse professional courtesy with something else." His assistant stood in the doorway. Two directors were still in the conference room. And behind Daniel, on his desk, was a framed photograph of him kissing a blonde woman. He knew I'd seen it. "Now, if there's nothing else, I have work to do." I walked out without crying. I waited until I reached the parking garage. Then I sat in my car and cried so hard I couldn't start the engine. The next morning, I submitted my resignation. Daniel rejected it. His response contained exactly one sentence. "Your personal feelings are not a sufficient reason to abandon your responsibilities." I should have hated him. Instead, I stayed for another three months, determined to prove that loving him had never made me weak. Then I met someone who made me realise how exhausting it was to beg for affection from a man who could give me everything except certainty. His name was Michael. He was kind, patient, and completely unafraid to tell me he wanted me. Six months later, he proposed. I said yes. And that was when Daniel Blackwood finally lost his mind.