Love at First Presence: The Monday, Tuesday & Wednesday Update

Hi, my loves.

Welcome back to another episode of Love at First Presence ;the series nobody asked for but somehow keeps writing itself.

Well, this is not exactly a continuation. This is more like a Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday wrap-up all rolled into one.

And honestly?

The plot is plotting less than I expected.

So, let’s get into it.

I saw him again on Monday morning.

Now, if you’ve been following this series from the beginning, you would expect me to tell you that my heart skipped several beats, birds started singing in the background, violins began playing, and the office suddenly transformed into a romantic movie scene.

Unfortunately for the entertainment industry, none of that happened.

I greeted him.

He greeted me.

And that was it.

Normal office greetings.

The kind you give your colleagues before opening your laptop and pretending to enjoy adulthood.

Then I attended meetings, handled my assignments, responded to emails, and went about my day.

Nothing happened.

Not a thing.

Tuesday arrived.

The same thing.

Wednesday arrived.

The same thing.

At this point, I need you all to understand something.

Even though we weren’t talking, the silence was loud.

Very loud.

You know those situations where nobody is saying anything but somehow you can feel the existence of another person in the room?

That kind.

Every time he came close, I suddenly became extremely interested in my laptop.

Sometimes I wasn’t even doing anything important.

I would simply stare at the screen as though I was negotiating an international business deal.

At some point, I even rested my head on my desk just to avoid unnecessary eye contact.

Please don’t judge me.

I’m trying my best.

The funniest part happened on Wednesday.

Some corporate organizations came to inspect the business, so we were all kept beyond closing hours.

I actually wanted to ask him what time it was.

Simple question.

Normal question.

Human question.

But somehow I became tired halfway through the thought process.

I literally felt too exhausted to start a conversation.

Imagine.

Me.

The same person who was previously analyzing every interaction like an FBI investigator.

Growth.

Or fatigue.

Whichever one you prefer.

Honestly, it almost feels like we’re snubbing each other.

If you had asked teenage me, I would have confidently announced that we were enemies.

Adult me knows it’s probably not that dramatic.

We’re just two colleagues existing in the same space while pretending the other person doesn’t require acknowledgment beyond professional courtesy.

Still, the silence is awkward enough to deserve its own employee identification card.

Now, here’s where things get interesting.

The more I see him, the more I observe him.

And observation is dangerous because it introduces reality.

For starters, I think he’s around 33 or 34 years old.

Now let’s do some mathematics.

That is roughly a ten-year age gap.

Ten.

One zero.

TEN.

Let’s park that information right there.

Next observation.

One of my colleagues had eaten rice at her desk.

You know how office desks look after somebody enjoys a peaceful lunch and leaves evidence behind.

Well, she wasn’t in the office at the time.

And then he asked:

“Who did this nonsense on this table?”

Now tell me why people suddenly become investigators only when the suspect is absent.

Why not ask the question when she is physically present?

Why are we conducting a post-lunch crime scene investigation?

I don’t know.

Maybe it’s harmless.

Maybe it’s not.

But it felt suspiciously close to gossip, and I have no interest in subscribing to that newsletter.

Another thing I’ve noticed is that he gets agitated very easily.

Very.

Little things happen and suddenly there’s an explosion of concern.

“Who took this?”

“Who moved that?”

“What happened here?”

Sir.

Respectfully.

Please breathe.

Everything is going to be okay.

I understand being particular about things.

I understand being organized.

But the level of stress attached to some of these situations feels unnecessary.

And before anybody starts defending him in the comments, remember that I am merely reporting live from the scene.

Now let’s review the facts.

Fact number one:

He’s older than me by about ten years.

Fact number two:

We work in the same office.

Fact number three:

I literally just got this job.

Fact number four:

He’s been there much longer than I have.

Fact number five:

Office romance sounds exciting until HR becomes involved.

If anything ever goes wrong, who do you think will suffer first?

Exactly.

Not me volunteering for unemployment because of feelings.

Absolutely not.

I like my salary.

Thank you very much.

Then there is the personality aspect.

From my observations, he seems like a mixture of melancholy and sanguine.

And if you know temperament theories, you already know that combination comes with its own special effects package.

Meanwhile, I am largely melancholy with a touch of choleric.

And honestly?

The more I think about it, the less convinced I become that this is some great romantic destiny unfolding before my eyes.

In fact, I think something unexpected has happened.

I think the infatuation is fading.

Not because he did anything wrong.

Not because there was a dramatic incident.

Not because anybody got their heart broken.

But because reality finally arrived.

I got excited.

Very excited.

Possibly too excited.

And after spending enough time around him, I’ve started seeing him exactly as he is:

A colleague.

A hardworking colleague.

A busy colleague.

A colleague with responsibilities.

A colleague with a personality.

A colleague who occasionally shouts.

A colleague who gets irritated.

A colleague who exists outside the fantasy version my imagination created.

And honestly?

That’s okay.

I think I’ve finally accepted that.

For now, we’re just colleagues.

Nothing more.

Nothing less.

If something spontaneous ever happens, trust me, you’ll be the first to hear about it.

But at this moment?

The butterflies have submitted their resignation letter.

The orchestra has packed up.

The romantic soundtrack has stopped playing.

And adulthood has resumed normal operations.

Thank you for attending this week’s episode of Love at First Presence.

If the plot wakes up again, I’ll be back with another update.

Until then…

XOXO.

Kisses.