Silver Adams had always believed love should feel safe. Not perfect, not flashy—just steady enough that she could rest her heart without fear. Yet at twenty-three, she had learned that believing in love didn't guarantee that love would find her.
She had mastered the art of smiling through disappointment. Smiling when relationships ended without explanation. Smiling when men praised her kindness but never stayed long enough to protect it. Smiling when friends told her to be patient, as if patience could fill the quiet nights she spent wondering what she lacked.
She lived alone in a small apartment on the quieter side of Los Angeles. It wasn't glamorous, but it was hers, a refuge from the chaos of life and the weight of memories she couldn't escape. Every morning, Silver woke before sunrise, sitting on the edge of her bed, whispering the same vow she had carried for years:
I will marry right. I will love right. And I will live better than my past.
It wasn't just hope—it was survival.
Silver worked as a junior assistant at Raymond Media & Publishing. Her role was small, almost invisible: she ran errands, delivered documents, organized files, and took care of the little tasks no one else wanted. But she never complained. Being useful made her feel needed, even if she wasn't chosen.
Her coworkers described her as shy but friendly, emotional yet funny in subtle ways. She laughed easily, cracked small jokes to break tension, and listened more than she spoke. People felt comfortable around her. But comfort had never turned into devotion.
She watched from the sidelines as other women received flowers on their desks, late-night messages filled with care, and promises that seemed to stretch into forever. Silver clapped at engagements and weddings with a polite smile, hiding the ache in her chest as she wondered when it would be her turn.
Love had always brushed past her.
Her past relationships were proof of that. The first boyfriend loved her gentleness but grew bored of her loyalty. The second admired her patience but chose thrill over commitment. Each time, Silver walked away quietly, holding the blame as if it belonged to her.
Yet despite everything, she refused to settle.
That morning, she stood at the bus stop, clutching her bag against her chest. Couples passed by, hands intertwined, laughing softly. Another man gently brushed his girlfriend's hair behind her ear. Silver looked away, feeling the familiar ache. She didn't envy them. She longed for devotion. For attention that didn't fade. For a man who would choose her even when life became inconvenient.
At the office, whispers spread through the employees.
"Did you hear?" someone murmured near the printer. "The CEO might be visiting today."
Silver barely reacted. Raymond Cole—the CEO of her company—was powerful, wealthy, and untouchable. A man like that existed on another plane. She had never seen him in person, and likely never would.
She returned to her duties, answering calls, sorting files, and running errands. During lunch, she sat alone, scrolling through messages from men who had long ceased to be part of her life.
You're such a nice girl, one text read. Nice. The word felt hollow now.
She locked her phone and exhaled slowly. Being nice had never protected her heart.
Evening arrived. Silver stayed late to organize a shipment of manuscripts. The office had grown quiet, the hum of the air conditioning the only sound. She bent down to lift a heavy box—and collided with someone.
"Oh!" she gasped, stumbling backward.
Strong hands caught her arms instantly, steadying her.
"I'm sorry," a deep voice said. "I wasn't watching where I was going."
Silver looked up.
The man before her wasn't dressed like an executive. No sharp suit. No visible authority. He wore a simple dark shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Calm. Grounded. And somehow... commanding.
"I—I'm fine," she stammered. "That was my fault."
He smiled faintly. "Looks heavy. Want some help?"
She hesitated, then nodded.
Together, they lifted the box, their fingers brushing briefly. The contact sent an unfamiliar warmth through her chest. She pulled her hand back, surprised by her own reaction.
"Are you new here?" she asked.
"Yes," he replied. "Just started."
She smiled politely. "I'm Silver Adams."
"Raymond," he said. "Raymond Cole."
The way he repeated her name afterward made her heart skip. As if he was memorizing it instead of just hearing it.
They worked in silence for a moment.
"You stay late often?" Raymond asked.
"Only when necessary," she replied. "Someone has to keep things in order."
He chuckled softly. "That sounds important."
She shrugged. "Maybe."
When the box was finally placed on the shelf, Silver stepped back.
"Well… thank you," she said.
"You're welcome, Silver," Raymond replied. "I hope I'll see you around."
As he walked away, Silver stood frozen longer than she meant to, her heart beating faster than it had all day.
She shook her head.
Don't imagine things, she warned herself. You promised not to fall easily.
She had learned the hard way that fleeting moments often led to lasting pain.
Yet as she turned off the office lights and locked the door behind her, one thought refused to leave her mind.
For the first time in a long while…
She felt seen.
And that frightened her more than loneliness ever had.