I’d had a crush on Daniel for years, so when he asked me to dinner, I couldn’t say no. I was over the moon. But when I got to the restaurant, he never showed. Instead, a waiter handed me a note from him, asking me to meet him in the bathroom. What I found there changed everything.
I never thought someone like Daniel would notice me. He was the head of our department—handsome, charming, and effortlessly confident. For three years, I admired him from a distance. The way he commanded a room, how his smile could light up an entire office, and how effortlessly he moved through social circles. He was magnetic.
“Earth to Cindy,” my best friend Margo would say, snapping her fingers in front of my face. “You do realize he’s way out of your league, right?”
I’d sigh because I knew she was right. Men like Daniel didn’t go for women like me. He was always with women who looked like they stepped off the cover of a fashion magazine—tall, slim, effortlessly elegant. Meanwhile, I was curvier, always struggling to find clothes that flattered my figure. I worked out and ate healthy, but my body refused to change. At 32, I tried not to obsess over it anymore, but it was hard when judgmental stares followed me everywhere I went.
Then, on a regular Tuesday, everything changed.
It was late. The office was nearly empty as I worked on the quarterly reports. The sudden presence of someone near my desk made me jump.
“Working late again?” a deep voice asked.
I looked up. It was Daniel, leaning against my cubicle wall, his cologne filling my space with an expensive, woodsy scent.
“Oh… yeah,” I stammered. “Just finishing up some reports.”
He smiled, perfect white teeth gleaming. “You know, Cindy, I’ve noticed how dedicated you are. Want to grab dinner after work tomorrow? You deserve a break.”
My heart stopped. “Dinner? With you?”
“Unless you’d rather eat with someone else?” He raised an eyebrow playfully.
“No! I mean, yes. Dinner sounds great.”
“Perfect. Luigi’s at seven?”
I nodded. He walked away, his confident stride making my stomach flutter.
The moment he was out of sight, I grabbed my phone. “Margo, you won’t believe this!”
“Did you finally figure out that spreadsheet error?”
“No! Daniel asked me out.”
There was a beat of silence before Margo shrieked, making me pull the phone away from my ear. “Are you serious? Daniel? The guy you’ve been obsessed with for three years?”
“The very same.”
“Girl, this is huge! I’m bringing over my blue dress—the one that makes even my post-baby body look hot.”
The next day, time moved at a crawl. Daniel acted completely normal in the morning meeting, but when our eyes met, his small smile told me I hadn’t imagined the invitation.
By evening, I arrived at Luigi’s 15 minutes early, wearing Margo’s blue dress. The maître d’ led me to a cozy corner table. I ordered water and waited.
And waited.
And waited.
“More water?” the waiter asked for the third time, his pity obvious.
“He’s just running late,” I murmured, trying to convince myself.
At 7:30, the waiter returned, holding a folded note. “This was left for you at the front desk.”
I took it, my hands trembling.
“Stand up and go to the bathroom. When you open the door, lock it behind you ;)”
My stomach dropped.
Was this what he thought of me? That I was desperate enough to hook up in a restaurant bathroom on a first date?
Fury replaced my heartbreak as I stormed toward the bathroom. If he thought I was that kind of woman, he had another thing coming.
But when I pushed open the door, I froze.
Daniel stood there with two other men from the marketing department. One held up his phone, camera aimed at me. They were laughing.
“That’s it. The bet’s over. I did it,” Daniel said, looking not at me but at his friends.
“A bet?” The words barely escaped my lips.
Daniel shrugged, already pushing past me. “Nothing personal.”
The others followed, still laughing, still filming.
I stood there, humiliated. As if the thought of him wanting a cheap bathroom hookup wasn’t bad enough, he had actually used me as a joke.
I went home, curled up in bed, and cried.
But the nightmare wasn’t over.
The next morning, my phone buzzed non-stop. When I checked, my heart sank. Daniel had sent the video to the office chat.
“Didn’t take much convincing 😏,” the caption read.
As if it wasn’t bad enough that he won his stupid bet, he wanted everyone to think I had thrown myself at him.
I couldn’t go to work after that. I called in sick. The next day, too.
On the third day, my phone rang. The caller ID made my stomach flip.
Mr. Reynolds—the company owner.
“Cindy,” he said, voice unreadable. “I expect to see you in the office within the hour. Or clean out your desk.”
Shaking, I arrived at work. I was led to the conference room, where the entire company had gathered. Daniel sat near the front, smirking.
Mr. Reynolds stood at the podium, a projector screen behind him. “Let’s address something important.”
The screen flickered to life. My heart pounded as the video of me entering the bathroom played. Whispers filled the room. My face burned.
Then, Mr. Reynolds did something unexpected.
He laughed.
“Alright,” he said, still chuckling. “Who here finds this funny? Raise your hand.”
A few hands, including Daniel’s, went up. He was still smirking.
Mr. Reynolds’ laughter vanished. His face turned cold. “And who thinks this is disgusting, unprofessional behavior?”
Slowly, hands rose. Ten. Then twenty. Then nearly the entire room.
“Everyone who laughed, pack your things. You no longer work here.”
The room fell silent.
Daniel shot to his feet. “What? You can’t be serious! It was just a joke!”
“Workplace harassment isn’t a joke,” Mr. Reynolds said. “Security will escort you out.”
Daniel’s face turned pale. Security arrived. He was led out, still protesting.
Mr. Reynolds turned to me. “Ms. Wilson, I owe you an apology. This never should have happened.”
“Thank you,” I whispered, still in shock.
“There’s one more thing,” he continued. “We now have an open department head position. Your work ethic and leadership skills speak for themselves. I’d like to offer you the job.”
I stared. “Me?”
“You’re the most qualified person here. And unlike your predecessor, you have integrity.”
Tears blurred my vision. From invisible to department head in three days. It felt unreal.
“Do you accept?”
I thought of Daniel, of the humiliation, of how I’d let his approval define me. Then I thought of what I could do in this role.
“Yes,” I said, my voice steady. “I accept.”
And for the first time in years, I felt truly seen.
