Jeanna had always believed that good looks could be deceiving.
In her experience, people who were naturally charming — the ones who smiled easily, spoke gently, and knew exactly when to be kind — were often the most confusing to read. She'd seen it happen before: an attractive person walks into a room, acts nicely to everyone, and before long, people start to fall for the illusion.
And that was exactly why Jeanna learned not to.
She told herself to stay observant, not sentimental. To see actions before words, and intent before charm. Because people who shone too brightly often left others blinded.
At Orion System, those thoughts quietly lingered in her mind whenever she passed by the Team Zephyr section — especially since Trixie wouldn't stop talking about him.
Ethan.
He had become some sort of quiet fascination among employees. Not just for his achievements, but because of the way he carried himself — confident, calm, always smiling at the right moments. Even those who weren't from his team seemed drawn to him.
Trixie often mentioned how polite he was when they'd occasionally meet in the hallway, or how his voice could make even a dull meeting feel pleasant. Jeanna would only smile faintly and brush off the conversation.
But everything changed when an unexpected announcement shook the usual office rhythm.
---
That morning, Erin Santos, their team leader, gathered everyone from Team Delta in the small meeting area. Her eyes were bright but slightly teary, her voice steady yet carrying emotion.
"I have something to share," she began, clasping her hands together. "Starting next week, I'll be transferring to another department. It's an opportunity I couldn't turn down — a managerial position I've been preparing for. It's been… a dream."
For a second, silence filled the room. And then it hit them — this wasn't just a short assignment or a temporary leave. Erin was leaving for good.
Trixie's lips trembled, trying to smile through the surprise. Rina lowered her head, wiping her eyes quietly. Even Kai and Jude, usually cheerful, fell silent.
Jeanna stood there, holding her notebook, her chest tightening. She wasn't the type to cry easily, but something about Erin's departure felt heavier than expected. Erin wasn't just a leader — she was the first person who made Jeanna feel that being new didn't mean being insignificant.
When Erin finished her short speech, the team clapped softly, though many were sniffling. Afterward, Jeanna approached her quietly.
"Thank you, ma'am," she said sincerely. "For everything you've taught us."
Erin smiled warmly, touching her shoulder. "You'll do well here, Jeanna. You have a good sense of balance — don't lose that."
That night, when Jeanna got home, Mira noticed her quiet mood.
"Rough day?" she asked while setting dinner on the table.
Jeanna nodded. "Our team leader's transferring. Everyone got emotional."
Mira smiled softly. "It's always hard saying goodbye to someone who made work easier."
Jeanna smiled faintly, glancing at little Mia Ellie who was coloring nearby. "Yeah… she was that kind of person."
---
By the next week, the office atmosphere had shifted. With Erin gone, Team Delta was merged with another group to form a new unit under a new supervisor. The reorganization came with new seating arrangements — one that changed everything for Jeanna.
Her new desk was positioned near the center of the floor, just a few feet away from Team Zephyr's area. And right across from her, facing the opposite side of the aisle, was Ethan's desk.
The first time she noticed, she blinked in disbelief. "Of all places," she muttered under her breath.
Trixie, sitting diagonally nearby, only grinned. "Looks like fate wants you to finally see what I mean."
"Or test my patience," Jeanna replied dryly.
From that day on, Ethan was unintentionally part of her daily view. Whenever he stood up — to stretch, to grab a document, or to talk to his teammates — he was right there, directly in front of her. She could see his calm expression, his loose hair falling a little as he leaned forward, his polite smile when he caught someone's gaze.
And every single time, Jeanna would glance up — not because she wanted to, but because she couldn't help it.
It was distracting.
She told herself it was purely accidental, but she started to notice his routine too well. How he'd stand every hour, stretch his arms with a quiet sigh, fix his ID lanyard, and glance briefly toward her side of the room.
He probably thought she was staring at him like the other girls did. And maybe, to him, she looked like another admirer.
But the truth was far less romantic.
She looked because she was annoyed. Because the sight of him moving in her peripheral vision every few minutes threw her off her focus. Because every time she tried to type, he would stand again — tall, composed, and completely unaware of how distracting that was.
One afternoon, while finishing a report, she caught herself frowning as he stretched again.
Trixie whispered from the next cubicle, "You're looking again."
"I'm trying not to," Jeanna muttered.
Trixie chuckled quietly. "You sound like you're in denial."
Jeanna sighed. "You don't get it. He keeps standing like he's trying to model for a desk chair commercial."
That made Trixie burst into a muffled laugh.
But deep down, Jeanna wondered — did he notice her reactions? Because sometimes, when she accidentally met his eyes, he would smile, as if acknowledging something silently. A smile that wasn't smug or teasing — just... knowing.
It was simple, polite — yet it made her pulse skip for a second before she'd look away, pretending to focus on her screen again.
Day after day, that routine continued.
Jeanna heard his voice more often now — through casual team discussions, through calls, through laughter shared across the aisle. His tone was calm, gentle, almost too pleasant. Sometimes, even when she went home, the sound of it would linger faintly in her head, echoing in the quiet of her room.
"His voice," she thought one night as she lay staring at the ceiling, "it's annoyingly kind. Like the sound of someone you shouldn't trust too easily."
It wasn't that she disliked him. It was the uncertainty he carried — that kind of warmth that made people drop their guard, that sincerity that could be real or rehearsed.
And Jeanna, who had spent years building walls around herself, wasn't ready to let anyone — especially someone like him — cross them.
So, each day, she told herself the same thing.
He's just a coworker. Nothing more.
But somehow, the quiet hum of the office, his voice in the background, and that effortless smile that met her every time he stood up — all of it began to blur into something she couldn't quite ignore.