He never even knew my name until one day, he did. Suddenly, the most charismatic man in the office was everywhere, flashing his perfect smile and asking me out. But why now? Something didn’t add up. And when I finally discovered the reason, it shattered me.
When no one notices you, at first, it hurts. You try to change the situation. Then, you accept it. And eventually, you even find an advantage in it.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
That day, I sat at my desk, watching as my male colleagues swarmed around our new coworker, Claire.
She was obviously attractive, so their reaction wasn’t surprising. But when Mark approached her, the others quickly backed off.
I let out a quiet chuckle as I watched. Mark was the most handsome and charismatic man in the office—I was convinced even other men wouldn’t mind if he took them to bed.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
He flirted with Claire, and she giggled at his jokes, twirling a strand of her blonde hair around her finger.
At that moment, Anthony, my boss, approached me. “Sara, do you remember our new project?” he asked, glancing at the laptop screen in front of me.
“Yes, of course. I’m leading it,” I replied, adjusting my glasses.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“I’m counting on you,” Anthony said with a nod, his tone full of expectation.
I worked at an IT company, and we were launching a new dating app. Anthony had chosen me to lead the project because, no matter how unnoticeable I was, my work results were the best.
He had also offered me an opportunity to work abroad at one of our other branches, but I declined, even though the salary would have been much higher.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
During lunch, I noticed an irritated Mark walking up to Anthony. Curious about what had upset our golden boy this time, I decided to eavesdrop.
“Who did you assign the dating app to?” Mark asked, his voice laced with disbelief.
“Sara. Is there a problem?” Anthony replied, sounding amused.
“Sara? We don’t have anyone by that name,” Mark scoffed, and I felt my jaw tighten.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“She’s sitting right over there,” Anthony said, pointing at me. I continued pretending not to hear them, keeping my eyes fixed on my screen.
“I thought I’d be handling the dating app. This isn’t fair,” Mark protested, folding his arms across his chest.
“To my office. Now,” Anthony ordered.
I finished my lunch just in time to see Mark walking out of Anthony’s office, looking pleased with himself.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
I had no idea what they had discussed, but no one had told me I was off the project, so I remained calm, though a tiny seed of doubt had been planted in my mind.
The next day, Mark approached me with his signature smile, hovering over my desk like a shadow. I gave him a questioning look.
“Sonia…” he began, leaning in slightly.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Sara,” I corrected him, not bothering to hide my irritation.
“Right. Sara.” He chuckled, as if amused by his own mistake. “Want to grab lunch together?” he asked, his voice dripping with casual charm.
“I already ate,” I replied flatly, typing away at my keyboard.
“Then how about a drink after work?” he suggested, tilting his head.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
I turned to face him. “You didn’t even know my name a minute ago. I bet you didn’t even know I worked here,” I said, recalling his conversation with Anthony. “What’s this really about?”
“I just thought it’d be nice to hang out with a lovely colleague,” Mark said smoothly, flashing that infamous smirk that made other women melt.
I scoffed.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Oh, come on. It’ll be fun,” he insisted, his persistence almost amusing.
“I have a lot of work,” I said, turning back to my computer.
Mark lingered for a moment before sighing and walking away, but I could feel his eyes on me for a few seconds longer than necessary.
As usual, I stayed late at the office. But when I finally looked up from my screen, I was surprised to see Mark still there. Normally, by the time I finished, the office was empty.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
I stood up, gathered my things, and headed to the elevator. Mark did the same. He followed me, and the whole thing felt strange.
We stepped into the elevator, and it started moving. Then, suddenly, it stopped.
“What’s going on? Are we stuck?” I asked, pressing a few buttons.
“Looks like it,” Mark replied, stuffing his hands into his pockets.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
I pressed the emergency button and explained the situation. The response came: we’d have to wait about two hours.
Mark sighed and sat on the floor, stretching his legs out in front of him. After a moment, I did the same.
“So, tell me about yourself,” he said, tilting his head toward me.
“What?” I chuckled, raising an eyebrow.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“What’s funny?” he asked, looking genuinely confused.
“Come on, I’ve worked here for years, and most people don’t even know I exist. Why the sudden interest?” I asked, crossing my arms.
“I’m just curious,” he said, shrugging.
“Then why don’t you tell me about yourself?” I countered, narrowing my eyes.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Oh, please. You probably know everything about me already,” Mark smirked. “Everyone does.”
That made me laugh again. “That confidence.”
“What? Is that a bad thing?” he asked, grinning.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“No, not if it’s real. But being invisible has given me an advantage—I notice things. And you, Mark, are nothing but an act. A performer trying to mask his insecurities with fake confidence. So what’s behind all of it? Daddy issues? Mommy didn’t pay attention to you?” I asked, leaning back against the wall.
“Oh, screw you,” he muttered, rolling his eyes.
We sat in silence for a while until Mark finally spoke again.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“My dad left us when I was three. My mom raised me alone. Then, when I was a teenager, he suddenly came back and tried to mold me into his perfect son. I guess I’m still trying to prove something to him,” he admitted, his voice quieter than usual.
“I get it,” I said, my voice softer now.
Mark looked at me curiously.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“My mom left us. My dad raised me alone. But she never came back. The last time I saw her, I was thirteen. She told me she was ashamed I was her daughter because, at my age, she had been way more popular,” I said, my throat tightening slightly at the memory.
“She’s an idiot,” Mark said, shaking his head. “I asked Anthony about you. You have the best results in the company. I thought I did. And you’re beautiful, even if your lack of confidence hides it.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Guess everyone copes with trauma differently,” I said, managing a small smile.
“Guess so,” Mark replied.
Just then, the elevator started moving again. When we stepped out, Mark grabbed my wrist.
“How about that drink now?” he asked, his voice gentler than before.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“If you’re going to be the guy from the elevator, then fine. But if you’re putting the mask back on, I’ll pass,” I said, tilting my head slightly.
“I’ll try to be myself,” Mark promised.
And so, we went to a bar. Then the next day. And the next. Before I knew it, we were spending time together every day—even on weekends.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
I saw a different side of Mark. The real him. The one who was afraid of spiders and teared up when a dog died in a movie.
One evening, I couldn’t resist anymore—I kissed him. And the moment I did, I knew it was right. With him, I felt like myself.
One day at the office, I stood outside Anthony’s office and heard voices inside. I hadn’t planned to listen, but I couldn’t help it.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“I told you—I know how to win someone over,” Mark said.
“I didn’t think Sara would fall for it. But you win—the dating app project is yours,” Anthony replied.
“Thanks, but—” Mark started, but I wasn’t listening anymore.
I turned and rushed to the bathroom, locked the door, and leaned against it. My breath came in quick, uneven bursts. My hands shook. Tears slid down my face before I could stop them.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
He had lied. He had tricked me to take my job. Every moment we had spent together had been a performance. And I was the fool who believed it. Worse—I had started falling for him.
I forced myself to breathe. I couldn’t fall apart now. Not over him.
I wiped my face, fixed my makeup, and straightened my blazer. Then, I walked straight to Anthony’s office.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Oh, Sara, I was just about to talk to you,” he said, looking up from his desk.
“I’d like to accept your offer to work abroad. If it’s still available,” I said, keeping my voice steady.
“It is. What changed your mind?” Anthony asked, raising an eyebrow.
“You were right—there are more opportunities for me there,” I said.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
He studied me for a moment. “When can you leave?”
“Tomorrow,” I replied.
“Tomorrow? Are you sure?”
I nodded. “Yes.”
“Alright, I’ll make the arrangements. You can take the rest of the day off to pack.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
I thanked him and walked out. My hands clenched around my bag. I saw Mark heading toward me.
I didn’t slow down. I grabbed my things and stepped into the elevator before he could reach me.
By morning, I was in a taxi headed to the airport. Music played in my headphones, drowning everything else out.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
I watched the city blur past. Then, in my window, I saw Mark’s car pull up alongside mine.
He motioned for me to roll down the window. I ignored him. He honked. Annoyed, I lowered it.
“What? Are you here to tell me more lies?” I shouted.
“What are you talking about?” he asked.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“I know about your deal with Anthony. If I fell for you, you’d get the dating app project,” I said.
“No—I mean, yes, that was the deal. But not anymore. Everything changed when I started spending time with you,” Mark said.
“More lies! I can’t believe I fell for you, that I even started to have feelings for you!” I yelled.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Really?” Mark asked.
I just rolled up the window and turned away.
A second later, he swerved his car in front of mine, blocking the road. My taxi and other cars behind us came to a halt, their horns blaring in frustration.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
It was chaos. Mark hurried over, pulled open my door, and looked at me desperately.
“Listen to me,” he said. “I turned down the dating app project.”
“Don’t lie,” I said, stepping out of the taxi.
“I’m not lying. It’s the truth,” he insisted. “Please, don’t go.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“And why is that?” I asked.
“Because you’re the only person I can be real with. The only one I don’t have to pretend around,” Mark said. “That’s why I won’t let you get on that damn plane.”
“No one asked for your opinion,” I said.
“I’m falling for you too, Sara. Please,” he begged.
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My mind screamed at me to get back in the taxi, go to the airport, and forget Mark.
But my heart had already decided. My feet moved before I could stop them, bringing me closer to him. He pulled me into his arms and kissed me.
“I see you, Sara. And I will never let you feel invisible again,” Mark whispered before kissing me again.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
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High School Sweethearts Planned to Meet in Times Square 10 Years Later — Instead, a 10-Year-Old Girl Approached Him There
“Ten years from now, Christmas Eve, Times Square. I promise I’ll be there,” Peter vowed to his high school sweetheart Sally on prom night. A decade later, he showed up with hope in his heart. But instead of Sally, a young girl approached, bearing a crushing truth that would change his life forever.
The music was soft, a gentle hum of violins blending with the muffled laughter of their classmates. Peter tightened his grip on Sally’s hands, his thumbs brushing over her knuckles like he could memorize her touch. Her mascara had smudged from crying, black streaks lining her flushed cheeks.
“I don’t want to go,” she said, her voice breaking.
A romantic couple at a prom | Source: Midjourney
Peter’s eyes glistened, fighting back tears he refused to shed. “I know,” he breathed, pulling her closer. “God, Sally, I don’t want you to go either. But some dreams are bigger than us.”
“Are they?” Sally challenged, her green eyes fierce with emotion. “What about our dream? What about everything we planned?” Her fingers intertwined with his.
“You must go,” Peter whispered. “Your family, your dreams… You’ve always wanted to study in Europe. I can’t hold you back. I won’t be the reason you shrink your world.”
A tear escaped, trailing down Sally’s cheek. “But what about us?” Her voice cracked, those three words carrying the weight of every shared moment, every stolen kiss, and every promise they’d ever made.
An emotional, teary-eyed young woman | Source: Midjourney
He pulled her closer, the space between them shrinking to nothing. “We’ll meet again,” he said, his voice steady despite the chaos inside.
“If we ever lose touch, promise me we’ll meet on Christmas Eve, ten years from now… at Times Square,” Sally whispered, a trembling smile breaking through her tears. “I’ll be holding a yellow umbrella. That’s how you’ll find me.”
“Ten years from now, Christmas Eve, Times Square. Even if life takes us separate ways, I promise I’ll be there, looking for the most beautiful lady with a yellow umbrella, no matter what,” Peter vowed.
Sally’s laugh was bitter, tinged with heartbreak. “Even if we’re married or have kids? You must come… just to talk. And to tell me that you’re happy and successful.”
“Especially then,” Peter responded, his fingers gently wiping away her tears. “Because some connections transcend time and circumstances.”
A sad young man with his eyes downcast | Source: Midjourney
They held each other in the middle of the dance floor, the world moving around them… two hearts beating in perfect, painful synchronization, knowing that some goodbyes are really just elaborate see-you-laters.
Time passed like leaves on a breeze. Peter and Sally remained in touch, mainly through letters. Then one day, she stopped writing. Peter was crushed, but the hope of meeting her kept him going.
Ten years later, Times Square sparkled with Christmas lights and the buzz of holiday cheer.
Peter stood near the towering Christmas tree, hands stuffed into the pockets of his coat. Snowflakes danced in the air, melting as they landed on his dark hair. His eyes scanned the crowd, searching for a flash of yellow.
A man standing on the street | Source: Midjourney
He hadn’t seen her in years, but he knew he’d recognize her anywhere. Sally was unforgettable. The way her laughter bubbled up when she teased him, the way her nose scrunched when she read something too serious… he remembered it all.
Each passing moment was a thread of memory, pulling tight around his heart.
The crowds shifted and swirled, tourists and locals mixing in a kaleidoscope of holiday excitement. Peter’s watch ticked away. First minutes, then an hour. The yellow umbrella remained a phantom, always just out of sight. Then suddenly, someone called out from behind.
The voice was small and hesitant. So small it could have been carried away by the winter wind. He turned sharply, his heart pounding so hard he could hear its rhythm in his ears.
A man looking at someone | Source: Midjourney
A little girl stood behind him, a yellow umbrella clutched in her hands. Her brown curls framed her pale face, her eyes wide and impossibly familiar as they met his.
“Are you Peter?” she asked, softer this time, as if afraid of breaking some delicate spell.
Peter crouched to her level, his mind a whirlwind of confusion. His hands, usually steady, trembled slightly as he met her gaze. “Yes, I’m Peter. Who are you?”
The girl bit her lip, a gesture so achingly reminiscent of someone he once knew that it made his breath catch. She shifted her weight from foot to foot, the yellow umbrella wobbling slightly in her small hands.
“My name’s Betty,” she whispered. “She… she’s not coming.”
A sad girl holding an umbrella | Source: Midjourney
A chill that had nothing to do with the winter air crept up Peter’s spine. Something in her eyes, in the careful way she held herself, spoke of a story far more complicated than a chance encounter.
“Wh-what do you mean? Who are you?” he asked, the words coming out more like a plea than a question.
“I’M YOUR DAUGHTER,” she whispered. Tears welled in her eyes. They were green… startlingly, unmistakably green. The same shade he remembered from a dance floor a decade ago.
Peter’s chest tightened, a vise of emotion squeezing around his heart. “Mmm-My Daughter?” he managed, though some part of him already knew the answer would change everything.
A shocked man | Source: Midjourney
Before Betty could respond, an older couple approached. The man was tall, his hair silver, and the woman clutched his arm, her face kind but etched with a sorrow that seemed to have carved permanent lines around her eyes and mouth.
“We found him,” Betty said, her voice brimming with nervousness and expectation.
The man nodded and turned to Peter, his gaze steady and penetrating. “Hello, Peter,” he said, his voice deep and measured. “I’m Felix and this is my wife. We’re Sally’s parents. We’ve heard so much about you.”
Peter froze, confusion swirling in his mind like a storm threatening to break. His legs felt unsteady, and his heart raced with dread. “I don’t understand,” he whispered. “Where’s Sally? And what does this girl mean by she’s ‘my daughter?’”
A sad older couple | Source: Midjourney
The older woman’s lip quivered, a fragile movement that spoke volumes. Her words fell like stones, each one shattering a piece of Peter’s world. “She passed away two years ago. Cancer.”
Peter staggered back as if the words had physically struck him. “No… No, that can’t be true,” he repeated, the denial a desperate prayer.
“I’m sorry,” Mr. Felix said softly, his voice laden with a compassion that felt like a gentle, merciless embrace. “She… she didn’t want you to know.”
Betty’s small hand tugged on Peter’s sleeve, a lifeline in a moment of emotional destruction. “Before she died, Mom told me you loved her like she was the most precious thing in the world,” she whispered, her voice filled with childlike innocence.
An emotional girl looking up at someone | Source: Midjourney
Peter sank to his knees again, the world spinning around him. His voice trembled, each word a broken piece of a shattered dream. “Why didn’t she tell me? About you? About her illness? Why didn’t she let me help?”
Mrs. Felix stepped forward, her hands clasped. “She found out she was pregnant with your child after she moved to Paris,” she explained. “She didn’t want to burden you. She knew your mother was sick, and you had so much on your plate. She thought you’d moved on, that you were happy.”
“Happy?” Peter’s laugh was a raw, broken sound. “But I never stopped loving her,” he said, his voice breaking like glass, sharp and painful. “Never.”
An emotional man holding his head | Source: Midjourney
Mrs. Felix pulled a small, worn diary from her bag. “We found this after she passed,” she said softly, her fingers brushing the faded cover with a tenderness that spoke of countless moments of grief and remembrance.
“She wrote about you, about how excited she was to see you again today… at this particular spot. That is how we knew. She… she never stopped loving you, Peter.”
Peter took the diary with hands that trembled like autumn leaves, each movement careful, almost reverent. The pages were filled with Sally’s neat handwriting — a beautiful script that seemed to dance between lines of hope and heartbreak.
His fingers traced the words, each paragraph a window into a love that had never truly died.
A man holding an old brown diary | Source: Midjourney
A photograph from their prom night fell between the pages — young Sally and Peter, lost in each other’s eyes, the world around them nothing more than a soft, indistinct backdrop.
Pressed carefully between paragraphs describing Betty’s dreams and Sally’s deepest regrets, the picture was a silent token to a love that had endured despite impossible circumstances.
Tears blurred his vision, transforming the words into a watercolor of emotion. Sally’s hopes, her fears, her extraordinary love… all captured in these fragile pages. He looked up, meeting Betty’s wide, nervous eyes. Eyes that held Sally’s spirit and her courage.
“You’re my daughter!” Peter whispered, the words a revelation, a prayer, and a promise all at once.
A little girl standing on the street | Source: Midjourney
Betty nodded, her small chin lifting with a courage that reminded him so much of her mother. “Mom said I look like you,” she responded, a hint of both vulnerability and pride in her voice.
Peter pulled her into a hug, holding her as tightly as he dared, as if he could protect her from every pain, every loss, and every moment of uncertainty she might ever face.
“You look like your mom too, sweetheart,” he murmured, a small smile flickering on his face. “You’re just as beautiful as she was.”
Betty nestled into his embrace, finding a home she didn’t know she’d been searching for.
A man smiling | Source: Midjourney
They talked for hours. Betty told him stories her mom had shared, each line a precious thread weaving together the mosaic of a life he’d missed.
Her animated gestures, the way her eyes lit up when she spoke about Sally, reminded Peter of everything he’d lost and found in a single moment.
“Mom used to tell me how you’d dance in the rain,” Betty said, her fingers tracing an invisible pattern. “She said you were the only person who could make her laugh during the hardest times.”
Mrs. Felix stepped closer, her hand resting gently on Peter’s shoulder. “Sally was protecting you,” she said softly, her voice carrying the weight of untold sacrifices. “She didn’t want you to feel trapped. She did what she did for you, dear.”
A cheerful girl laughing | Source: Midjourney
Peter wiped his face, his tears freezing on his cheeks like crystallized memories. “I would’ve dropped everything for her,” he whispered.
Mr. Felix’s eyes glistened with unshed tears. “We know that now,” he said. “And we’re sorry for not finding you sooner.”
Peter looked at Betty, her face a beautiful blend of wonder and sadness, a living reminder of the love he’d lost and found. “I’m never letting you go,” he said, the promise a sacred vow. “Not until I die.”
She smiled, shy but hopeful, her green eyes — Sally’s eyes — meeting his. “Promise?”
“I promise,” Peter said.
A man holding a little girl’s hand | Source: Midjourney
Over the following months, Peter worked tirelessly to bring Betty to the U.S. The process was complicated, filled with paperwork and emotional hurdles, but his determination never wavered. She moved into his apartment, her laughter (so reminiscent of Sally’s) filling the once-quiet spaces.
“This was Mom’s favorite color,” Betty would say, pointing to a painting or a throw pillow. “She always said it reminded her of something special.”
Peter would smile, understanding now that ‘something special’ had always been him.
He flew to Europe often, spending time with Mr. and Mrs. Felix and visiting Sally’s grave. Each trip was a bittersweet pilgrimage… joy and sorrow intertwined like delicate threads. During these moments, Betty would hold his hand, a silent support, and a living connection to the woman they both loved.
A grieving man in a cemetery | Source: Midjourney
“Tell me about how you met,” Betty would ask, and Peter would share stories of young love, promises made beneath school dance lights, and a connection that transcended time and distance.
On the anniversary of their first Christmas together, Peter and Betty stood by Sally’s grave. A bouquet of yellow roses lay on the stone, the petals bright against the pristine snow… a splash of color, hope, and remembered love.
“She used to say yellow is the color of new beginnings,” Betty whispered, her breath creating small clouds in the winter air.
A bouquet of yellow roses on a gravestone | Source: Midjourney
“Your mother was right. She’d be so proud of you,” Peter said, his protective arm around his daughter.
Betty nodded, leaning into his embrace. “And she’d be happy we found each other.”
Peter pressed a kiss to her temple, his heart heavy with loss and love. “I’ll never let you go,” he said again, the promise a covenant between a father, a daughter, and the memory of a love that had waited ten years to be reunited.
An emotional little girl smiling in a cemetery | Source: Midjourney
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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