When Spring Fades

The morning was already a mess before it truly began. Hannah Lin sprinted across the polished marble floors of SkyNova Tower, her heels clicking frantically, arms flailing with a bag that kept slipping off her shoulder and coffee that was spilling dangerously close to her blouse. “Wait! Please—hold the elevator!” No one held the elevator. The polished chrome doors gleamed as they closed in her face with a solid and unapologetic thud. She sighed, cheeks puffed out, nose scrunching slightly as she tried to will her frustration away. A beat passed. Then she hit the call button again. Behind her, the receptionist giggled. Hannah turned her head and offered a sheepish smile. “First day.” “Oh, we can tell,” the receptionist said brightly. Hannah was just about to respond when the elevator dinged open. She turned, tried to step in gracefully—and promptly tripped over the corner of the rug. Her coffee flew. Her bag spilled. She landed, face-first, half in the elevator, half out. It was mortifying. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” she yelped, scrambling to her knees, trying to gather everything—pens, tissues, a squashed sandwich. A hand reached out to her. A very clean, very expensive-looking hand. She looked up—and her breath caught. He was tall, impeccably dressed in a deep charcoal suit that fit like it had been stitched onto him by angels. His dark hair was slicked back in a way that somehow didn’t look greasy. His face was sharp—jawline cut from marble, eyes cool and unreadable, lips slightly curved in amusement. He didn’t smile. But something in his gaze almost made it worse. She grabbed his hand. He helped her up like she weighed nothing. “Thanks,” she muttered, red-faced. His eyes flicked down to her name tag. “Hannah Lin,” he said in a low voice. “Department 18. Marketing.” Her jaw dropped. “How do you know—?” “I own the company.” And just like that, she realized two things: 1 She had just crashed into the CEO.

 2 She had thrown her coffee on his shoes.

 She gasped. “Oh no. Oh my god. I’m so sorry! I—I didn’t mean to—your shoes! They’re—” “Ruined,” he said smoothly, stepping into the elevator. “Come in before you miss it again.” Still dazed, she followed him in. The silence stretched. The air in the elevator suddenly felt suffocating. She tried not to fidget. Failed. “My name’s Hannah, but I guess you already know that. Um. I just joined today. The marketing team. I’ve never worked in a building this tall before. Or with a boss who looks like he walked out of a Vogue magazine.” That last part slipped out before she could stop herself. His brow arched. “I mean, not that I think about that kind of thing! I’m just saying, you look expensive! Not expensive like… you know, bought. But expensive like—” The doors dinged. “Eighteenth floor,” he said, stepping out. “Good luck, Miss Lin.” And then he was gone. Hannah smacked her forehead. “Great start, Hannah. Real smooth.” By lunch, everyone had already heard. “You spilled coffee on Mr. Ren?” her colleague Zoe whispered, eyes wide. “It wasn’t like that—okay, yes it was. But it was an accident!” “Girl,” Zoe said seriously. “Do you have any idea who he is?” “Jasper Ren,” Hannah said. “CEO of SkyNova.” “Try: ruthless investment prodigy. Built his first company at 23, sold it for $500 million. Now he owns SkyNova, and three other subsidiaries. Cold. Brilliant. Never smiles.” Hannah frowned. “He helped me up.” “That’s… a first.” Later that week, she ran into him again—this time in the company cafeteria. He was alone, eating a salad and reading something on his phone. Every part of her screamed: Don’t go over there. Just eat your rice quietly and disappear. But before she could stop herself, her feet moved. “Mr. Ren?” He looked up slowly. She bit her lip. “I, um, just wanted to say thanks again for not… firing me after the elevator disaster.” He stared for a moment. Then: “What makes you think I wouldn’t fire you?” She froze. He took a sip of water. Then he said, “Relax, Miss Lin. Your file says you graduated top three in your university class. I don’t fire competence. Even if it’s clumsy.” Her jaw dropped a little. “You read my file?” “I read all the files. I don’t hire by accident.” She stared at him. He didn’t smile. Didn’t blink. But somehow, there was something in his voice—measured, calm, almost kind in its own terrifying way. “Still… thanks,” she mumbled, and scurried off. The days turned into weeks. Hannah threw herself into her work. She learned fast, stayed late, and tried not to drop coffee on anyone else. She volunteered for the tough presentations. She asked questions. She made mistakes—but she always learned from them. Somehow, she kept running into Jasper Ren. Sometimes in the hallway. Sometimes in meetings. Once, unexpectedly, at the fire drill. He never said much. But he noticed everything. And slowly… she noticed him, too. The way he tapped his pen when he was thinking. The rare moments he laughed—a real laugh, quiet and sudden, like it surprised him. The fact that he always stayed later than anyone else. One Friday night, she passed his office and saw him still working. Without thinking, she knocked. He looked up. She lifted two cups of instant ramen. “Dinner?” she offered. He blinked. Then stood, walked over, and opened the door wider. “Only if you brought soy sauce flavor.” That night, they talked for the first time. Really talked. He told her about his mother, who raised him alone and worked three jobs. About the night he slept in a subway station because he missed the last train and didn’t have enough for a cab. About why he built SkyNova—not for fame, but to prove he could. Hannah listened. And for once, she didn’t feel nervous. Or clumsy. Or small. He looked at her like she was… interesting. “I don’t understand you,” he said finally, eyes searching hers. “Most people don’t,” she said softly. He reached out, brushed a noodle from her cheek. “You’re strange, Miss Lin.” She smiled. “So are you.”