MY CEO

Oh… It Was All in My Head."

Tension doesn’t need permission. It just shows up, settles in your chest, and waits for your heart to crack.”

Saturday Night — The Distraction

Ethan didn’t mean to end up in someone else’s bed.

It started with Alex’s persistent shoulder nudges and “You’re not moping through the weekend” chants. It ended in a stranger’s apartment, with tangled sheets and Ethan staring at the ceiling, his body flushed but his mind stubbornly unfulfilled.

The guy had been hot. Confident. Hands everywhere. But Ethan hadn’t even bothered asking for his name. It didn’t matter.

Nothing stuck. Nothing landed.

Because in the middle of it, when the guy had leaned down to kiss him again, Ethan’s mind — like a cruel traitor — had whispered, Grey suits you better.

Adrian’s voice. Soft. Subtle. Burned into his neurons like a brand.

Ethan had pushed the stranger’s mouth away, muttered something about needing air, and left ten minutes later with his heart rattling in a place far deeper than his chest.

The cold outside helped. It felt honest.

Sunday — The Weight

Alex noticed something off the moment Ethan walked in.

“You went through with it, didn’t you?”

Ethan flopped onto the couch like his bones had melted.

Alex sat beside him, silent for a few beats. “And?”

“I thought it would… I don’t know. Scrub something out of me.”

“Did it?”

Ethan’s silence answered for him.

“You’re still thinking about him.”

“I’m not trying to,” Ethan said. “It’s just… I keep hearing his voice. That message. And now it feels like I did something wrong just for wanting to forget it.”

Alex sighed and grabbed a throw pillow. “You don’t owe loyalty to a man who flirted like a cryptic fortune cookie and then disappeared.”

“He didn’t disappear.”

“He’s a billionaire CEO, Ethan. If he wants to talk to you, he will. If he doesn’t… silence is an answer.”

That didn’t help.

Monday — The Cold

Ethan arrived early.

He hadn’t slept much, and the guilt of Saturday plus the anxiety of silence had welded itself to his spine. Maybe today would reset things. Maybe Adrian would walk in, glance his way, nod — and that tiny spark of something would flicker back into place.

He didn’t expect warmth.

But he didn’t expect ice either.

Adrian walked past him at 8:44 AM.

No nod. No glance. No acknowledgment.

Just the soft thud of expensive leather shoes on marble and the faint scent of cedar cologne Ethan had come to associate with heat.

Now it felt suffocating.

Maybe he missed him.

Maybe he misread everything.

He spent the morning going through campaign notes for a new startup, trying not to watch the elevator doors. Trying not to think about the way Adrian had said “Rest well” just two days ago — like a whisper between two people not quite strangers.

And now… silence. Again.

Midday — The Meeting

He wasn’t expecting Adrian to show up to the development brief. Adrian didn’t need to attend mid-level planning sessions — those were for department leads, strategists, and interns like Ethan.

But at 11:31 AM, he entered the room, sleek and composed in a navy suit, jaw tight, expression unreadable.

Ethan’s pulse spiked.

Adrian nodded to the group, took a seat — not across from Ethan, but diagonal, close enough to steal oxygen — and said nothing.

For the next forty minutes, he listened. Asked two sharp questions. Took notes.

When Ethan offered a soft, carefully crafted observation about brand tone shift and audience saturation, Adrian didn’t even glance at him.

Nothing.

Not a flicker of recognition. Not a nod. Not even a shift in posture.

It was like talking into a void.

And somehow, that — the absence of anything — burned more than rejection.

Tuesday — The Spiral

By the time Tuesday rolled around, Ethan was a mess.

He hadn’t responded to Adrian’s Friday night message. Maybe that was it. Maybe that silence had been taken as a rejection, and now Adrian was icing him out.

Or maybe Ethan had been wrong from the start. Maybe none of it meant anything.

Maybe the glance, the compliment, the message — all of it had been a CEO being courteous, nothing more.

But that didn’t explain the way Adrian had looked at him. The way his voice dropped when he said Ethan’s name. The quiet softness of “Don’t overthink everything.”

And now?

Now he wouldn’t even look at him.

“Am I going insane?” Ethan asked Alex over lunch, his voice low.

“No,” Alex said. “You’re just emotionally constipated and possibly cursed.”

“Thanks.”

“Listen… you’re not crazy. I saw the way he looked at you last week. Something was there.”

“Yeah, and now it’s gone.”

“Or he’s panicking. CEOs don’t exactly take risks unless they’re buying out an entire company.”

Wednesday — The Shift

That morning, Adrian snapped at the marketing team during a quarterly prep call.

He rarely lost his cool. His words were always smooth, measured, even when they cut. But today, there was an edge.

Ethan watched from his desk as Adrian left the call abruptly and disappeared into his office.

Everyone around him went still.

“Okay, someone woke up on the wrong side of power,” Laura muttered.

Ethan didn’t speak. His stomach was already in knots.

At 3:00 PM, he was summoned to Adrian’s office with two printouts and a USB drive. Just a delivery. Just protocol.

He knocked, heard the distant “Come in,” and stepped inside.

Adrian didn’t look up from his screen.

“Leave them on the table.”

Ethan did, his breath caught somewhere between his lungs and his throat.

He hesitated. Just one second. Hoping for a glance. A word. Anything.

But Adrian just kept typing.

Cold. Focused. Removed.

Ethan turned to leave.

“Mr. Reyes,” Adrian said suddenly.

Ethan stopped like someone had pulled a string in his spine.

“Yes, sir?”

“Have you reviewed the design briefs I marked for next week?”

“I have.”

“Then you should know the pacing is too slow. Fix it.”

It wasn’t cruel. Just clinical.

Like he was nothing more than another intern — not the same Ethan Adrian had texted on a Friday night like something personal had happened.

“Understood,” Ethan said quietly.

He walked out feeling like his chest had been hollowed out with a spoon.

Thursday — Breaking Point

Ethan didn’t sleep. Not really.

When he wasn’t working, he was replaying moments. Analyzing glances that may never have happened. Trying to remember the tone of a message that now felt like fiction.

Maybe he imagined it. The spark. The tension. All of it.

Maybe he had made a complete fool of himself.

He kept checking his phone — not for new messages, but to reread the old ones.

Eat well and sleep well. Take the weekend. Rest. This week was backed with work.

It didn’t feel like it had come from the man sitting in the office just ten feet away from him.

That Adrian was warm. Elusive, yes, but gentle in some untouchable way.

This Adrian?

Cold. Sharp. Controlled.

Friday — Silence and Storms

He thought about calling in sick.

Instead, he arrived before everyone else, sitting at his desk with trembling fingers and coffee that tasted like ash.

When Adrian walked in that morning, he didn’t even pause.

By 2:00 PM, Ethan could barely focus.

“You need to talk to him,” Alex said over chat.

Ethan stared at the screen.

He’s my boss.

So?

So I can’t walk into his office and say ‘why are you ignoring me like I didn’t hallucinate our entire connection.’

You didn’t hallucinate it.

Then why is he acting like I don’t exist?

Because he’s a coward in a 3-piece suit. And he doesn’t know how to deal with wanting someone he’s not supposed to want.

Ethan didn’t respond.

He just sat there, drowning in his own mind.

Wondering if he was the only one still stuck in the tension.