In the weeks that followed, Alexander found himself thinking about Maya more than he cared to admit. He had tried to shake the feeling, dismissing it as a fleeting curiosity. Yet, every time he entered his penthouse, he found himself hoping she would be there, her presence a curious comfort he had never anticipated.
Maya returned to clean his apartment every Tuesday and Thursday, always with the same quiet determination and grace. Alexander watched her from a distance, pretending to read reports or check emails, but his attention was inevitably drawn to her. She was a puzzle he couldn’t quite solve, and that intrigued him.
One evening, as she was about to leave, Alexander spoke up. “Maya,” he called, stopping her just before the elevator doors. “Do you have a moment?”
She hesitated, her hand hovering over the button, but nodded. “Yes, sir?”
“I’d like to know more about you,” he said, surprising himself with his sincerity. “Would you have dinner with me?”
Maya looked at him with a mixture of skepticism and amusement. “Dinner? With you?”
“Yes,” he replied simply, unbothered by her incredulity.
She paused, then gave a small nod. “Alright. Dinner.”
