(Poppy’s POV)
“He’s charming, isn’t he?” I heard one of the volunteers say one morning as I poured coffee.
“Too charming,” another replied. “You’d better be careful with that one, he’s a s*x god. Have you seen how he looks at Poppy? Like he wanted to eat her raw. Oh my god!”
Their laughter made my stomach twist in a way I didn’t understand. I forced a smile, pretending their words didn’t mean anything. “He’s just being friendly,” I said, trying to sound casual.
“Friendly,” one of them repeated with a smirk. “Sure.”
That word stuck with me all day. Friendly! I wanted to believe it. But the way Asher looked at me sometimes didn’t feel friendly at all… it felt like there was more to it, like he was also interested in me or something like that.
The whispers grew. Little fragments of stories found their way to me. “He’s been seen with someone new.”
“He’s always like that.”
“He can’t help himself.”
“He’s everywhere, and the funniest part is how women wouldn’t think twice before giving themselves to him. Arrg what a flirt”
I told myself I didn’t care, yet every rumor felt like a small spark landing on dry leaves inside me.
One night, while David and I were having dinner, he brought Asher up in that easy, joking tone of his.
“Guess who’s in trouble again,” he said with a laugh. “Apparently, one of the volunteers can’t stop talking about him. That man just never learns, he got reported to head office.
I smiled faintly. “You make him sound like trouble.”
“Oh, he is trouble and hopeless,” David chuckled, shaking his head. “You know Asher…he flirts with anything that moves, ready to devour any woman that crosses his path. You should be careful of him.”
‘Devour every woman! Careful of him!!’
The words stung, though I didn’t know why. I had no reason to care what kind of man Asher was. Yet, later that night, as David fell asleep beside me, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Did Asher ever mean the way he looked at me? Or was I just another story people would whisper about?
The next Tuesday, I tried to be distant. I kept my eyes on my computer, my fingers tapping keys faster than usual. I didn’t want to see him; I didn’t want to feel that small rush in my chest every time he walked in.
But I wasn’t that lucky.
By mid-morning, Asher leaned casually against my desk, his deep voice cutting through my thoughts. “You’ve been quiet today, Poppy.”
I didn’t look up. “Just working,” I said lazily, making it obvious that I did that to not talk to him.
“You don’t lie very well,” he said softly.
My eyes lifted to meet his, and my breath hitched. There he was with that look again; god! His eyes were gentle and steady damn it I hated how much I liked it.
“People are talking,” I blurted out before I could stop myself.
He smiled slightly. “They always do.”
“You don’t care?”
“No.” His voice lowered. “Do you?”
“I don’t like gossip.”
He leaned closer, resting a hand on the edge of my desk. “Let them talk. People need stories to keep their dull lives interesting.”
“Stories can ruin lives, Asher.”
His eyes softened, but there was amusement there too.
“Only if one day they become real, and I hoped that day would come quickly,” he said with a wink and walked away after that, leaving me with his scent in the air and a knot in my stomach….
His words played over and over in my head that night as I lay beside my husband, listening to the steady sound of his breathing.
‘I wasn’t doing anything wrong.’ I told myself that again and again. But the truth was, I was thinking about another man while lying next to the one who loved me.
By the next week, the whispers had changed. People weren’t just talking about Asher alone, they were talking about us.
“You and Asher make quite the team,” one of the secretaries teased.
I forced a laugh. “We just work well together.”
She gave me a look that said she didn’t believe a word of it. “Sure. You two have that energy.”
Energy! That word made my chest tighten.
When Asher came in that afternoon, I barely met his eyes.
“What’s wrong?” he asked quietly.
“People are talking,” I said. “It’s getting awkward.”
“So?” he said calmly with that tender sweet look of his.
“So, maybe it’s better if you stay away for a while.”
He studied me for a long time, as if weighing my words. Then he nodded slowly. “If that’s what you want.”
I swallowed hard. “It is.”
But the moment he walked out, the air in the room changed, and the silence felt heavier than his presence ever had.
That night, I couldn’t focus on anything David was saying at dinner. I kept thinking of the way Asher looked at me before leaving, disappointed, maybe hurt. Or maybe I just wanted to believe he was.
The whispers had done something I didn’t expect. They hadn’t just spread gossip… they’d forced me to confront something I’d been pretending didn’t exist.
I missed him.
Days passed, and I told myself this was what I wanted. This was safer. This was right. But every time the door opened, my heart still leaped before I realized it wasn’t him.
Work became mechanical. I focused on; numbers, files, emails, anything to fill the silence that stretched between my thoughts. The hum of the printer, the faint tapping of my keyboard, the ticking clock on the wall… everything reminded me that he wasn’t there.
When David came home, I did what I always did. I smiled, cooked dinner, and listened to his stories from work. He was warm and easy to love, and that was what hurt the most. Because even as I sat across from him, nodding at his laughter, my mind was filled with another man’s thoughts. We had s*x, but there was a part of me missing, caught somewhere in the empty space of that small office.
One afternoon, while filing documents, I caught myself glancing at the door again. It had been almost two weeks since I’d last seen Asher.
Two weeks since that final look he gave me; that steady, unreadable, and yet somehow saying everything.
The door finally creaked open that day, and my breath caught in my throat. But disappointment quickly washed over me, it wasn’t him. Just another volunteer, coming in cheerful and oblivious, asking where to find a form. I wish I could wipe that smile off her face. But I got to do my job, so I smiled, gave directions, and went back to my desk. My hands were trembling slightly. I hated that I cared so much.
That night, I stood in front of the mirror brushing my hair, trying to push him out of my mind. But his voice echoed anyway. “Do you really want me to stay away?”
Did I?
I told myself yes.
I told myself a hundred times.
But late at night, when the world was still and the house quiet, my thoughts betrayed me. I’d imagine him… his eyes, that slow confident smile, the way he said my name like it was something secret. I’d think of the way he leaned over my desk, how his cologne lingered in the air long after he was gone.
I missed him. I missed the sound of his voice. I missed feeling seen.
It wasn’t love, I knew that… It was pure lust.
The next Tuesday, I arrived early at the office. The hallways were empty, and the coffee machine gurgled softly as I poured myself a cup. I sat down, opened my laptop, and tried not to think about whether he’d walk in.
But by noon, I couldn’t ignore the ache in my chest anymore. I missed his voice breaking the silence, his small jokes, the way he’d ask how my day was like it actually mattered.
When I got home that evening, David noticed something different about me.
“You’ve been quiet lately,” he said, gently touching my shoulder.
“I’m just tired,” I lied, forcing a smile.
He nodded, accepting it easily. But when he turned away, I felt a wave of guilt so sharp it almost took my breath away. He trusted me completely, and I was betraying him… not only with my actions, but with thoughts I couldn’t seem to control.
The following Thursday, I arrived at the office with a strange sense of restlessness. It had been raining all morning, and the sky outside was a dull gray. I told myself to focus, to be strong, and to stop hoping.
Then I heard the door open.
That voice… yes, that steady, low, unmistakable voice cut through the air.
“Morning, Poppy.”
I froze. My heart jumped out of my chest and my pulse thud so hard I could feel it in my neck.
When I looked up, there he was. Asher. Standing by the doorway, his hair was damp from the rain and his hands tucked into his pockets. Oh my! Wake me up from this dream… he looked like he had just arrived from another dimension! He’s as sexy as hell.
“I thought you weren’t coming around anymore,” I managed to say.
He shrugged lightly. “You told me to stay away. I tried, but I didn’t like it much.”