The reason why I ended up in an office romance goes back to something small—something almost too ordinary to matter. But as it turns out, the ordinary can be a seed for something much bigger.
It started at the Project Team office.
“Mia, would you mind running to the convenience store for a bit?” Eddie asked, flashing a tired but polite smile. “Our next meeting’s VIP really loves snacking on convenience food.”
I blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “Oh. Alright! I’ll grab a few things then.”
He glanced around, almost apologetically, then rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m really sorry to ask this of you. I wouldn’t normally, but as you know, our part-timer’s on sick leave for the rest of the week...”
“It’s fine,” I said quickly, already reaching for my bag. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll head down now.”
“Thanks so much, Mia. Really.”
I offered a small smile and turned away, my heels clicking lightly against the polished floor.
My name is Mia Lagmay, and today marks my seventh day as an intern at an interior design company—a place where everything felt shiny, modern, and intimidating.
I was still getting used to the rhythm of the office: the way meetings blended into each other, how design drafts magically became reality overnight, and how people seemed to speak in a language made entirely of creativity and tight deadlines.
The convenience store was just across the street, but I walked slowly, feeling the warm breeze against my skin and letting my nerves settle.
Inside, the fluorescent lights buzzed faintly above as I wandered through the aisles.
“Okay, think, Mia,” I murmured under my breath. “What would a competent intern buy for a VIP who loves convenience store snacks?”
I stared at the neatly stacked shelves—rows of chips, drinks, packaged bread, and sweet buns looking back at me like they were judging me for hesitating.
This isn’t just about snacks. It’s about proving I belong.
And maybe… maybe it was the beginning of something else entirely.
By the way, I’d really like to start doing some actual work.
So far, I’d only been handed random tasks—mostly small errands and last-minute favors—because I had to cover for the part-timer who was on sick leave. I wasn’t complaining; the tasks weren’t difficult. But still… wasn’t I here to learn something real?
I sighed, adjusting my grip on the shopping basket as I wandered further into the chilled section of the convenience store.
“This is not how I imagined my internship,” I muttered under my breath. “Am I just going to be the errand girl forever?”
“What are you mumbling about?”
The sudden voice made me jolt. I turned—and froze.
A man was standing beside me, holding up a small yogurt cup, his head tilted as if genuinely curious. “Oh, by the way—” he continued, raising the container slightly. “Is this good?”
“Pardon…?!” I stammered, eyes wide. Was he talking to me?
“Oh, sweet goodness,” he said, more to himself than to me, eyebrows lifting dramatically as if I’d offended him by being surprised.
I blinked.
There, right in front of me, stood a man who looked like he’d stepped straight out of a glossy magazine ad—flawless skin, unruly dark hair, a hint of mischief in his eyes. He had the energy of someone who didn’t take anything seriously and probably never had to.
What the heck? I thought. Did I just run into a... psycho?
A really, really handsome psycho.
“Why aren’t you answering me?” I asked, trying to regain my footing in the conversation—and in reality.
He raised an eyebrow. “You’ve never tried this?”
“I… I have,” I replied hesitantly, mentally kicking myself for sounding so unsure. His tone was too casual, too familiar, like he’d known me longer than two seconds. It was suspicious.
Also, was this real life? Because honestly, it was starting to feel like a dream—one of those surreal ones where a random stranger talks to you and you forget how to breathe because he’s just that attractive.
I cleared my throat. “I’ve tried it. Strawberry flavor is better than blueberry.”
He considered this, lips quirking up into a smile. “Good. Then I’ll have the blueberry.”
Without another word, he tossed the yogurt into his basket and strolled off toward the cashier, leaving me standing in front of the dairy shelf like an idiot—dizzy, confused, and dangerously close to developing a crush on a complete stranger.
“What was that…?” I muttered, staring blankly at the empty space where the man had just stood. “A friendly neighborhood psycho?”
Sure, he was handsome—dangerously so. But something about him screamed unhinged. Like he had a screw loose… or maybe a whole toolbox missing.
I shook my head and stepped up to the counter, placing the yogurt cup down.
“That’ll be $45.50,” the cashier said flatly.
I blinked. “Um… I only got one yogurt,” I said, pointing at the cup. “You scanned it twice.”
The cashier looked past me, then nodded toward someone behind. “That person over there said you’d be covering this too.”
I turned, eyes following the clerk’s finger—and of course, there he was.
That man.
Sitting on the edge of a bench near the window, spoon already in his mouth, happily eating his blueberry yogurt.
“Just pay with that card,” he said casually, without even looking up. Like we were old friends. Like this wasn’t absolutely insane.
“E-Excuse me?” I called out, flustered. “Uh… strange mister...? Why should I be paying for—”
“I’m not a strange mister,” he interrupted, deadpan.
“What?”
“I said,” he repeated, more clearly this time, “I’m not a strange mister.”
“Okay… Uh, anyway!” I tried to steady my voice. “Why should I pay for your yogurt, mister?”
“If you don’t pay for it,” he said between spoonfuls, “I’ll technically be stealing. And if that happens… I’ll become a criminal. Can you live with that on your conscience?”
I gawked at him. “Pardon?!”
He shook his head, sighing dramatically. “You’re terrible.”
“M-Mister, you’re the one who’s terri—”
“Yes,” he interrupted again, as if I’d just confirmed his theory. “Quite terrible.”
I stared at him, speechless. The cashier cleared her throat.
“Fine,” I muttered under my breath, tapping my card against the reader. “Here. I’ll pay for it.”
As soon as the transaction went through, I looked back—but he was already gone. Vanished.
Like a weird little yogurt ghost, leaving behind only the faint smell of dairy and the feeling that I’d just experienced a brand-new level of crazy.
Back at the office lobby, the automatic doors slid open with a soft hum as I returned with a full bag of convenience store snacks tugging at my wrist.
“Sorry, Mia. That looks quite heavy, doesn’t it?”
I looked up to see Eddie Lewis—one of the senior designers and one of the few people in the office who actually remembered my name. He was standing near the hallway that led to our department, concern softening his usually focused expression.
I straightened my back instinctively. “No, it’s okay! I’m fine!” I said with a cheerful voice that didn’t quite match how my arm was starting to feel.
But Eddie was already walking toward me, his pace brisk but easy. Before I could protest again, he gently took the bag from my hand.
“Oh wow,” he said, brows lifting slightly. “It is heavy.”
“I-I can carry it myself…” I murmured, embarrassed by how relieved my wrist felt the second he took it.
“It’ll be quicker if I help,” he said, smiling as he turned in the direction of the conference room. “Plus, it’s this way.”
“Ah, y-yes!” I nodded quickly, matching his steps.
“…M-M-M… Mister Lewis?” I stammered, my eyes darting nervously around the elegant corridor. “Isn’t this place…”
There was a well-dressed secretary sitting outside the room, tapping away efficiently at a tablet. And right beside her, gleaming in gold letters, was a fancy nameplate on the door: Joshua Weiss, CEO.
I stopped dead in my tracks.
“Isn’t this… the CEO’s office?”
Eddie glanced at me over his shoulder and nodded. “Yes, that’s correct.”
His calm answer made my stomach lurch.
(Why are you smiling so brightly?!!) My brain screamed in panic as he stopped in front of the grand door and turned to face me fully.
“Mia,” he said gently.
“Y-y-yes...?!?!” My voice cracked like a snapped rubber band.
“Please, don’t be surprised.”
(I’m already surprised as hell!!!)
Before I could even begin to process, Mr. Lewis pushed the door open with the confidence of someone who did this every day. My heart thudded against my ribs like it was trying to escape.
And then—
“Hi there,” a familiar voice said, calm and almost amused.
My soul nearly left my body.
There he was. The blueberry psycho.
Sitting—no, lounging—in the CEO’s chair with his feet casually propped up on the polished desk. The same man from earlier. The yogurt thief. The beautiful, chaotic stranger. Now comfortably spooning blueberry yogurt into his mouth as if the whole office was his personal café.
Eddie didn’t even flinch. “Mr. Weiss, we didn’t expect you to be here already.”
“…Uh…” My mouth opened, then closed. “What?”
Eddie turned to me with his professional voice again. “Miss Mia, this is Joshua Weiss, the CEO of Question Co.”
I stared. Blinked. Stared again.
“…So… wait…” I whispered. “Did I really…”
My brain raced.
Did I just call the CEO a psycho? Did I argue with him in public? Did I accuse him of mooching yogurt?!
I stood frozen, like my mind had blue-screened.
In a country where youth unemployment hovered near 30%—when I had clawed and scraped and somehow, miraculously, landed this internship—I had just unknowingly gone toe-to-toe with the company’s CEO… over a cup of yogurt.
What kind of fate was this?! Was this the price of ambition?!
Joshua leaned forward in his chair with a casual confidence that didn’t match the title engraved on his desk. With a flick of his wrist, he held out a sleek business card between two fingers.
“Here,” he said. “My business card. Joshua Weiss. That’s my name. But you can call me Josh.”
I hesitated as I reached out to take it.
“Oh—actually, that was a joke,” he added smoothly. “You may not. And of course, you may not call me ‘Blueberry.’”
My fingers twitched around the card.
“…Am I going to get fired now?” I blurted out, panic bubbling up in my throat like carbonation.
Eddie turned toward me, curious. “Oh? Do you know our CEO personally?”
“No… Not really…” I said weakly, eyes darting between the two of them.
“Well, now I’m sad,” Joshua chimed in with a faux pout. “We used to—”
“He asked me to buy his blueberry yogurt this morning,” I interrupted quickly, “at the convenience store…”
Eddie blinked. “Ah. Is that why you called him a blueberry psycho...?”
I went pale. “...I-I’m sorry…” I mumbled, cheeks burning. “I didn’t know… I didn’t know…”
My name is Mia. And this is my seventh day at work.
Just seven days. That’s all it took for me to almost ruin my career with yogurt and sarcasm.
Eddie, still holding the bag of snacks, muttered under his breath, “Blueberry yogurt...”
Joshua raised an eyebrow at him. “What’s with that face, Eddie Lewis?”
“Oh, nothing,” Eddie said with a small chuckle. “I was just imagining you barging up to her like that—asking her to pay.”
“I’m a gentleman,” Joshua replied indignantly, placing a hand on his chest. “I approached her politely.”
(What is going on?)
The way they were talking—so casual, like college friends teasing each other between classes. The office air didn’t feel corporate anymore; it felt like I had stumbled into someone’s living room.
Joshua turned back to me, his voice softer now. “Well, whatever. Just make sure you remember me this time.”
(This time…?) My eyes narrowed slightly.
“My name is Joshua,” he said, more deliberately. “Joshua Weiss.”
“Yes, sir,” I said quickly. “My name is Mia.”
“I know that,” he replied, smirking like he was always two steps ahead. “Anyway, why do you have that look on your face, Miss Mia?”
“Sorry?” I blinked.
“I mean,” Joshua said, still lounging in his chair like it was a throne and this was a game show, “you’re looking at me as if I’m about to eat you up.”
He turned to Eddie with a sly grin. “Don’t you agree?”
Eddie didn’t even blink. “Well, you do look as if you’re about to eat her up, sir.”
(Nice shot, Mr. Lewis!) I thought, internally cheering for him while trying not to let my face show it.
Joshua raised a brow. “Then… should I smile?”
To be honest, I wasn’t sure if that would help. This man was giving off strong eccentric billionaire with no filter vibes. He didn’t exactly seem sane—but God help me, he was stunning. Like, breathe-too-loud-and-you-might-offend-his-face kind of stunning.
“Well, anyhow,” he said, his tone lighter now. “Why are you so stiffened up? Relax.”
Eddie shrugged. “Most people freeze when they’re inside the CEO’s office, sir.”
(There you go again, Mr. Lewis! Always knowing exactly what to say!)
Joshua leaned back, looking almost thoughtful. “Hmm. Does that mean they feel uncomfortable with me? But you seem relaxed, Eddie.”
“Not everyone can act like me,” Eddie replied with a faint smile, brushing invisible dust off his blazer.
Joshua snapped his fingers, like he’d just come up with a world-changing idea. “Fine. Then how about we talk more casually?”
My heart skipped a beat.
“Call me dude,” he said with a straight face.
“…Pardon???”
“I said,” he repeated, “call me dude. Or ‘yo, what’s up.’ Or ‘get off my a*s.’ Anything’s fine. It should make you more comfortable and bring us closer, right? I want everyone in our company to feel comfortable and stay close with me.”
I stared at him, my brain doing somersaults trying to process this bizarre offer.
“…Then, may I…?” I began, hesitantly.
Joshua leaned forward, expression sharp. “I don’t like people who are uncertain.”
“I—I’m sorry, sir!” I squeaked, standing up straighter as if I’d just been scolded by a school principal.
“You don’t have to apologize,” Joshua said calmly, setting his spoon down with a soft clink against the empty yogurt cup. “But I do want you to be clear. Don’t stammer or slur your words.”
I straightened instinctively. “Yes, Mr. Weiss!”
His lips curled slightly. “I’m glad you’re a fast learner.”
Phew. That felt like passing a pop quiz I didn’t study for.
Maybe next time, I should act bolder—more like someone who doesn’t crumble every time the CEO looks directly at her.
“There are basically two reasons I called you to my office,” Joshua continued, lacing his fingers together as he leaned back in his chair. “First, I have to inform you of the precautions in this company.”
“...Precautions, sir?” I echoed, trying not to overthink the word.
Joshua nodded, his expression unreadable. “As you’re well aware, you’ll be working here as an intern—for the next three months.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And I do not believe in using people and discarding them after a temporary period.”
I blinked. That was… surprisingly considerate.
“Right…”
“So,” he said, looking me directly in the eyes, “I can promise you that you’ll be converted into a permanent employee—if you can keep the following three fundamental rules in this office.”
My hands tightened at my sides. “Three fundamental rules, sir?”
He raised one finger. “One. No dating in the office.”
I nodded quickly. “Okay. Well… I don’t intend to, at all.”
Date someone in the office? That sounded like an emotional death trap. Sharing a pantry with an ex? No thanks.
He raised a second finger. “Two. No romance in the office.”
“…Huh?” My head tilted slightly. “Isn’t that the same thing?”
But he ignored my question and lifted a third finger. “Three. No going out in the office.”
I stared at him, stunned into complete silence.There were three rules, and they were all essentially the same rule in different fonts.
“May I ask,” Joshua said suddenly, tilting his head, “why you’re making that face?”
I blinked, caught red-handed by my own expression. “I… I just believe all three rules are the same.”
A flicker of amusement danced in his eyes. “Which means, it’s that important.”
Before I could fully register what was happening, Joshua stepped closer. Not office-casual close—personal-space-evaporated close. The subtle scent of his cologne washed over me, clean and sharp, laced with something cool like cedarwood.
I didn’t dare move. Or breathe.
“I’m not a strict person,” he said, voice low but clear. “I don’t like banning people from things against their free will. But it’s the one thing I do enforce. No office romance or whatsoever.”
“Y-Yes…” I managed, my voice thinner than I’d like.
“I’ve looked through your portfolio, Miss Mia,” he went on. “I read every resume and portfolio of the people we hire. And I don’t want to lose a super rookie just because of an office romance.”
“…Right, sir.”
My brain registered the compliment—but my heart? My heart was malfunctioning.
What is wrong with me?! Why am I thinking about how insanely gorgeous he is, even while he’s delivering company rules like a commander at war?
It’s just… it’s hard to focus when he looks like a walking magazine cover with a voice that belongs in a luxury ad. So unfair.
Joshua finally took a step back, the tension breaking just enough for me to breathe again.
“Now,” he said, straightening up. “That was the first thing.”
I blinked. “First…?”
“Two,” he continued. “I have a project I want to entrust to you.”
“…Pardon me?” My voice came out almost as a whisper, like I’d misheard him through a dream.
It felt like I’d been struck by lightning—right down my spine.
“A project,” Joshua repeated, unfazed. “You do know what a project is, right?”
“W-Well, today’s my seventh day at work! I just started my job!” I replied in a rush, my voice going embarrassingly high-pitched.
“That doesn’t matter,” he said smoothly. “I try to see potentials, not tenure.”
“…Potentials?” I echoed, brain still catching up.
“The portfolio you handed in,” Joshua said, folding his arms as he leaned against the edge of his desk, “I really liked it.”
My eyes widened. “Uh—but that’s…!!”
“It’s good,” he cut in smoothly. “So good that I want to entrust you with a project.”
Before I could even protest further, he continued, as casually as someone reading off a lunch menu. “It’s a café. Set to open soon.”
“A c-café?!”
He nodded. “It’s called Project Summer. Are you on Facebook, Instagram, or Tweeter?”
“…Tweeter?” I echoed, unsure if he was being serious or just casually mispronouncing Twitter. “Ah, uhm… yes. A little.”
“Here you go,” Eddie chimed in, walking over with a sleek tablet in hand. “It’s on Facebook.”
I took the tablet cautiously, like it might self-destruct if I held it wrong. The screen lit up with a vibrant, trendy campaign post. Project Summer: You Choose the Design of Our Dream Café!
Eddie gestured toward the screen. “Basically, everything about the café—from the name and uniforms to the menu and even the interior design—is selected based on popularity on social media.”
My eyebrows lifted higher and higher with every sentence.
“Companies submit portfolios,” he explained. “We summarize the proposals and post them to Facebook. People press Like on the ones they like. Then, the ones with the most Likes move forward to a meeting. If the café owner likes it, they proceed to a second round. After about three meetings, one company is chosen as the final designer.”
I stared at the screen, then at Eddie, then at Joshua.
“And I—I’m in charge of that?!”
Joshua shrugged, his voice calm as ever. “Well, I won’t force you to do it.”
My mind was spinning. Why me? I was still learning the location of the copier. I wasn’t even confident in using the office coffee machine without spilling something.
“But… what if—what if I say I can’t do it?” I asked hesitantly, my voice shrinking. “Do I… get fired?”
Joshua raised a brow. “As I said, I’m not forcing you.”
He glanced at Eddie. “We’ll assign her to another job instead, right?”
Eddie nodded with a sympathetic smile. “Yes. But organizing documents will be the only other option for now.”
What?! No…! I can't become a permanent employee with such a huge task!
I mean—yes, I wanted real work. But this? This wasn’t real work. This was a full-blown campaign with eyes on it from every angle. Social media. Public voting. Real clients. I was just an intern! I barely knew where the office storage key was kept!
But…
I thought of my rent. My utility bill. Food. My stupidly expensive phone plan. Daily transportation. Life didn’t pause just because I wanted to think something over. And none of those things were going to pay for themselves.
I swallowed hard.
“I… I will take the project,” I said.
There was a beat of silence.
(Why are they so quiet now…?)
Joshua blinked. “Wow. I didn’t expect that you’d actually say yes.”
“That’s so mean,” Eddie chimed in with a light chuckle. “You’re the one who gave her the job.”
“But you were surprised too, weren’t you, Eddie?” Joshua shot back, eyes glinting with amusement.
Eddie scratched his cheek sheepishly. “Well… I thought she’d ask for time to think about it.”
“It’s because…” I started, then hesitated. But I might as well be honest now. “I don’t have any other choice. If I don’t take this, I’ll just keep organizing documents…”
Eddie’s expression softened. “I’m sorry about that. I’d love to give you something else, but there aren’t any ongoing projects available for interns right now.”
Joshua clapped his hands once, like a decision had just been made. “Well, it’s all set, then. Miss Mia will be in charge of Project Summer.” He turned to Eddie with his usual ease. “I’ll leave the rest to you.”
“Yes, sir,” Eddie replied with a respectful nod.
And just like that, the CEO stood up, walked out, and disappeared behind the heavy door—leaving behind a stunned intern and a mildly apologetic senior designer.
Eddie turned to me. “So… are you all right?”
I forced a nod. “...Yes.”
“Well,” he said with a sigh, “the CEO has… quite a unique personality.”
“…I-I could see that,” I murmured, still recovering from the rollercoaster of the past five minutes.
“I’ll notify you of the project details later today,” he said gently.
“Y-yes…” I replied, gripping the tablet like a life raft.
As I stepped out of the CEO’s office, the door quietly shutting behind us, Eddie glanced over with a concerned expression.
“…Are you sure you’re okay?”
I took a breath. My hands were still clammy. My legs slightly shaky. My head spinning. But deep down, something was anchoring me—an odd mixture of pride, fear, and the refusal to give up.
“…I-I should be okay,” I said quietly.
Then I lifted my chin, just a little.
“I will be okay.”
Eddie smiled gently. “Alright then… good luck, Mia.”
He gave me a reassuring nod before turning down the hall, leaving me alone in the corridor.
And as I stood there, holding that tablet, the unofficial weight of Project Summer in my hands, a strange calm settled over me.
I, Mia Lagmay, will now begin—
the first chapter of my work days.