The conference room was bright, glass walls letting in the afternoon sun, but the air inside felt heavy with anticipation. As Project Manager, I was supposed to lead this meeting with calm authority, but my mind kept drifting to the quiet developer who'd just joined my team — Elián.
Lumina Content Solutions was one of the biggest content and training companies in Quezon City, specializing in educational materials and digital courses. My role was to coordinate with developers, writers, and designers, making sure content came alive on screen without a hitch. I'd handled tough projects before, but this felt… different.
"Alright, team," I started, keeping my voice steady as I scanned the faces around the table. "Let's welcome Elián. He'll be joining our developer group starting today."
From the corner of my eye, I caught Elián's subtle nod. Tall, and quiet, his brown eyes calm but sharp, like he was already observing everything. The same eyes I'd seen in that dream. The same ones that made my heart skip.
Then, without thinking, I whispered to myself—barely audible—"Shit."
Someone near me caught it and smirked, but I quickly masked my embarrassment with a polite smile. "Sorry," I said softly, "just means I'm excited."
Elián's lips twitched in a faint smile, but he didn't say anything.
The meeting moved on. We went over deadlines, project specs, and timelines for the latest training module Lumina was developing for a government client. I explained how my team worked closely with developers to ensure content was engaging yet accurate.
Elián sat mostly silent, but when he spoke, his voice was low and sure. "I reviewed the specs last night," he said. "I think we can optimize the code to improve loading times."
"Nice," I said, surprised and impressed. "That'd be a huge help."
Even at that moment, my mind wandered. How had fate thrown this quiet, capable man into my life like this? And why did I feel like I was still chasing a shadow from a dream?
Later that day, back at my desk, I was buried in documents and project timelines when I noticed Elián quietly approaching with a small cup of coffee.
"Hey, Mara," he said softly, holding out the coffee like a peace offering. "Thought you might need this."
Surprised, I blinked up at him. "Oh, wow. Thanks."
He shrugged lightly. "I saw you've been working late the past few days. If you need help with anything, just ask."
His voice was gentle, without any pressure — just sincere concern.
I felt a warmth spread through me. "That's… really kind of you. I might take you up on that."
He smiled, shy but genuine. "No problem. We're a team, after all."
The small gesture made my chest tighten in a way I didn't expect. Here was this man, quiet and steady, showing kindness without fanfare. And I was suddenly aware of how much I wanted to let someone in again.
As Elián walked back to his desk, I found myself watching the way the light caught his hair, the way he moved with calm confidence. It was the same feeling I'd had in the elevator — that strange pull, like a memory waking up inside me.
Later, my phone buzzed with a new message from him — but not from the account I'd messaged before. This one had a different username, unfamiliar.
I typed back quickly, "Is this your main account?"
"Not really," he replied simply. "That one's a dummy I use for gaming. Here's the real one."
I smiled as I added him. It felt like he was letting me past the surface, bit by bit.
Days passed. Our exchanges were still short and sometimes awkward, but there was a quiet rhythm to it. The team moved forward with the project, and every so often, Elián would drop small, helpful suggestions or check in on me with a quick message.
One afternoon, as we waited for a meeting to start, he glanced at me and said quietly, "You look tired."
I shrugged, trying to play it cool. "Long day."
He hesitated, then said, "You should take a break sometimes."
That simple concern made my chest tighten. Maybe, just maybe, this quiet developer was becoming more than just a coworker. Maybe he was the beginning of something new — something I wasn't ready to name yet.
The office finally emptied the hum of computers giving way to the soft shuffle of late workers packing up. I glanced at my watch — 7:30 p.m. Another long day.
A ping on my phone startled me. A message from Elián:
"Coffee after work? There's a place halfway between our offices."
I stared at the screen, my heart skipping. Was this happening? The quiet man who barely talked in meetings was asking me out. But it wasn't quite a date — more like a casual offer to decompress.
I typed back quickly, trying to sound casual: "Sounds good. See you there."
The café was cozy and dimly lit, the kind of place with soft indie music playing and walls lined with bookshelves. When I walked in, Elián was already there, sitting at a corner table with two steaming cups.
He stood up and gave a small smile. "Hey."
"Hi," I said, sliding into the seat across from him, suddenly aware of how loud the café seemed and how fast my heart was beating.
We ordered a second round and started talking — not about work, but about small things. Music. Books. Why he liked quiet places.
He listened more than he talked, but when he did speak, his voice was low and thoughtful. "I noticed you like to keep busy. Maybe too busy sometimes."
I laughed softly, feeling my guard lower a little. "Yeah, I guess I do. Keeps me from thinking too much."
He nodded. "Sometimes, you have to face the thinking."
I looked at him, surprised by how gentle he was being. "And are you good at that?"
He smiled quietly. "I try."
For a moment, the awkwardness melted away. It was just two people sharing a space, two souls slowly recognizing each other beyond the roles they played at work.
When we finally parted, the night had deepened and the streets outside glistened under the rain that had started to fall.
As I walked home, I realized something I hadn't admitted yet — maybe, after all the darkness, I was ready to believe in something new. Not just the man from my dreams, but the man sitting quietly across from me in that café.
By the time I got home, my heart was still unsteady — not in a panicked way, but something gentler. A kind of warmth I'd forgotten was possible.
I dropped my bag by the door, kicked off my shoes, and fell onto the bed without turning on the lights. My phone buzzed in my hand.
Elián
Did you get home safe?
I smiled at the screen, fingers tapping without hesitation.
Me
Yeah. You?
Elián
Just got in. Thanks for the coffee. That place wasn't too crowded. You okay?
Me
Yeah. I liked it. Thanks for inviting me.
There was a pause. Then his reply:
Elián
You seemed tired earlier. Just… take care of yourself, okay?
I stared at that last message a little longer than I should have. So simple. But the way it softened something inside me — like someone had finally noticed.
Me
Thanks, Elián. You too. Rest well.
Elián
Goodnight, Mara.
I didn't reply. I just locked my phone and lay there with a quiet smile on my lips.
That night, I dreamed again.
The room was dim, lit only by golden candlelight. Velvet curtains swayed with the wind, and the air smelled like woodsmoke and rain. I stood in the middle of a chamber, dressed in something heavy and old — not mine, but familiar.
And then I saw him.
The same man from before. My dream man. The stranger who had danced with me, whose touch I remembered before I even knew his name.
He stood by the door, looking older than last time. Sadder, maybe. But his eyes — those same storm-touched brown eyes — held mine like they'd been waiting through centuries.
"You found me at last," he said softly.
My heart tightened.
I tried to step forward, to speak, to ask what this meant — but something in me already knew.
His expression shifted, filled with a kind of bittersweet peace. "This time, it may not last long."
"No," I whispered. "No. Don't say that."
He smiled — the smile I remembered, the one that once felt like home. "But still… you found me."
I woke up with tears in my eyes