From across the room, Thomas let out an exasperated sigh. “Seriously? We ate it together! How could you forget?”
Eddie furrowed his brow like he was digging through dusty memory files. “Oh, did we?”
“Yeah,” Thomas said flatly, his face twisted into a dramatic mix of disbelief and betrayal.
I couldn’t help but giggle at the expression he wore.
“Why don’t you guys go eat BBQ instead?” I suggested cheerfully. “Thomas loves meat.”
Thomas turned to me with mock emotion. “Wow. I’m very touched.”
Eddie raised an eyebrow. “Oh, he does?”
Thomas crossed his arms, glaring lightly at Eddie. “Why don’t you try remembering things once in a while…”
He turned to me with an exaggerated sigh of relief. “Mia, you really have a good memory.”
I gave him a teasing smile. “Well, one thing I’m sure of is... I remember every single thing about you, my dear mentor.”
Thomas froze for a moment, a blush creeping into his face. “...I’m really touched.”
I laughed. “Haha, it’s nothing—”
“Wow,” Thomas said, throwing his hands up in mock disbelief. “Someone I’ve worked with for three years doesn’t even know I can’t eat fried squid.”
Eddie raised an eyebrow. “That’s sarcasm, isn’t it?”
I stepped back from their usual banter and glanced at my monitor, sighing. “I should finish this quickly, then grab something for lunch.”
Thomas looked over at me again. “What? It’s just a meeting. Do you really have that much to prepare?”
I gave him a tired smile. “I’m a bit worried, that’s all…”
Before he could say anything more, I added quickly, “Anyway, I need to go on a diet, so I’m fine! I won’t be starving—I’ll grab a sausage bread later.”
Eddie blinked. “Sausage bread?”
“Yes!” I nodded enthusiastically. “A sausage bread!”
“But isn’t the bakery pretty far from here?” he asked, genuinely confused.
“I can go and come back in fifteen minutes if I run,” I said with conviction. “Anyway! Since I’ll be eating sausage bread, you two go ahead!”
Even though they still looked a bit worried, their hesitation eventually gave way to a quiet acceptance.
“Enjoy your lunch!” I chimed cheerfully, waving them off.
Once they were out of sight, I turned back to my screen with forced energy. “Now, now! Time to work! Let’s do this!”
I stared at my monitor.
Work.Work…Workkk…
I don’t know when it happened, but I must’ve dozed off—just for a second.
I woke with a jolt.
“Oh no!!” I gasped, scrambling upright in my chair. “What… what time is it?!”
My eyes darted to the corner of the screen.
“12:45!?” I shrieked. “Did I just fall asleep!?”
My eyes were still adjusting to the brightness of my screen as I blinked away the remnants of sleep. The lunch break was almost over, and I hadn’t done a single productive thing.
I sighed, slumping in my chair. Wow... What did I just do?
I could’ve eaten. I could’ve worked. But instead—I napped.
Now, all I had was disheveled hair, a stiff neck, and a lingering sense of regret.
Then something caught my eye on my desk.
“...Huh?” I blinked. “What’s this?”
Sitting neatly beside my keyboard was a sausage bread. Next to it—a small carton of milk and a folded note.
I picked it up slowly and read aloud, eyebrows rising.
> "Dear New Intern, Are you enjoying your work? Though you said you wouldn't be eating lunch, I am very much worried. So, this is for you!
Sincerely, Angel of Bread."
“…Huh?” I whispered, staring at the note.
I looked around the office, half expecting someone to pop out from behind a cubicle. But it was quiet. No one looked suspicious. No one even looked in my direction.
“...Who could it be?” I murmured to myself, glancing at the sausage bread like it might offer me clues.
A warm feeling spread through my chest, mixing with the confusion. I couldn’t focus. The note, the unexpected kindness, the fact that someone had noticed—it all swirled in my head.
I wanted to thank this “Angel of Bread.” But I had no idea who they were.
From across the room, Eddie’s voice broke the silence.
“Gray, can you come over here for a sec?”
I perked up. Eddie and Gray had come back to the office together earlier… Could it have been one of them?
“If you’re talking about this part,” Gray replied, walking over, “this is—”
They talked over the project documents, but I overheard them mention they’d gone to a café during lunch. That ruled them out. Neither of them would’ve had time to come here and quietly leave something behind.
Then, a few desks away—
“Brad, I’m sorry, but can you print this out for me?” Thomas asked.
“Sure,” Brad said, already moving to the printer. “I just got back from the store anyway.”
My ears perked up.
The store...?
Brad could’ve picked it up on the way back. That made him a possibility.
Brad glanced up from his desk, brow furrowed.
“What.”
“Huh?” I blinked.
“Why are you staring at me?”
I flinched. I hadn’t realized I was staring so obviously. “N-no reason…”
But let’s be real—Mr. Cranky would never buy me a sausage bread. Not even on his birthday. Eliminated.
I shifted my gaze.
“—And when you print that out,” Thomas said a few desks away, handing Brad a document, “please skip page 13.”
My eyes narrowed.
Then… Thomas?
Could it be him? My ever-so-slightly sweet mentor?
But then I noticed the coffee cup in his hand—the one from the café Eddie and Gray had mentioned earlier.
He must’ve gone out with them. No way he had time to sneak back with bread and milk in hand.
That ruled him out too.
I leaned back in my chair, sighing.
Aside from those three, no one else in the office was really close enough to me to go out of their way like this. The mysterious “Angel of Bread” was still nameless.
And I can’t even say thank you unless I know who it is...
Just then, my phone buzzed.
Joshua.
His name popped up on the screen like a sudden plot twist.
> Joshua: Did you have lunch?
My fingers hesitated over the keyboard before replying.
> mia: N-no.
A beat passed.
> Joshua: Did you skip it?
> mia: Not really… But someone gave me a sausage bread.
Another pause.
> Joshua: Sausage bread?
> mia: Yeah. It was on my desk when I woke up from a nap.
His reply came quickly this time.
> Joshua: You shouldn’t eat something if you don’t know who gave it to you. You’re the only woman in your team.
I paused, the weight of his words settling in.
> mia: Yeah… That’s true.
> Joshua: I made it clear that we have a "no dating" policy. Believe me, there's no guy on your team who would buy you bread without a dirty motive.
I stared at my phone screen, the words making my stomach tighten—not from hunger this time, but confusion.
> mia: I guess someone just took pity on me. Haha…
> Joshua: Don’t eat it. Those little brats...
And then—He left the chat. Just like that. No explanation. No context. No emoji.
Joshua Weiss, the ever-composed CEO of our company, had just ghosted me after dropping a vague warning about mysterious bread.
Why did he even ask if I had lunch?
Was he genuinely worried… or just trying to assert that “no dating” policy again? He was so unpredictable, it didn’t even surprise me anymore.
Still—what he said clung to me like static:
Does this really mean someone has a crush on me…? Over bread? I shook my head. It’s just bread… right?
Just then, a message popped up on my screen.
> Thomas: mia. Can you send me the files I mentioned before?
> mia: Sure, I’ll forward them now. Here it is!
A pause.
> Thomas: Did you eat the bread? The sausage bread?
I stared at the screen. I hadn’t told anyone about the bread. Or the milk. All I said was that I had fallen asleep during lunch.
> mia: I’m still thinking whether to eat it or not.
> Thomas: Why are you thinking so hard? Why are you thinking so hard? Bread is best with white milk! You should have it with milk! Then enjoy your work!
I froze, rereading his words.
Milk. He knew there was milk. I hadn't mentioned that part to a single soul. My fingers hesitated over the keyboard.
> mia: Thomas?
> Thomas: Yes??
> mia: Are you the one who gave me these?
A beat.
> Thomas: Noooo! I heard it from—uh—Eedke! I mean—Eddie!
Eedke?
That was the worst cover-up I’d ever seen.
> mia: Well, I told the CEO about the bread. He said not to eat it unless I know who it’s from :D
> Thomas: Wha… So you’re not going to eat it…? But datz no manner to the person who gave it to u Q_Q
His messages were getting more emotional, almost… frantic?
> mia: But Mr. Weiss might be right. Someone could’ve mistaken my desk. And I don’t think it’s right to eat something from someone I can’t thank.
There was a long pause. Then—
> Thomas: Whyyy not! T^T Maybe someone bought it for you just because u looked really hnugyr. Hungry.
> mia: I’m not sure about it, so I should just leave it as it is.
> Thomas: You think way too much!!! liit’s just a brea d. I tihnk you’re putting too muсс meanings g to it. It’s just a bread. I think you’re thinking too much. It’s just a bread, and milk. :D haha…
I stared at his message, watching the typos pile up with increasing desperation....Gotcha.It was him.
Anyone could tell now—the mysterious “bread angel” was definitely Thomas. The way he fumbled his words, the panic wrapped up in those smiley faces, the way he mentioned milk. It was obvious.
But… I was also pretty sure there was no big motive behind it. No secret message, no hidden confession. Just a small, clumsy act of care.;Still, right now, the bread didn’t matter. My meeting did.
At the Office Entrance
The glass doors clicked shut behind me as I stepped into the quiet night. My body felt heavy—like my thoughts had been dragging it all day.
“Geez… So tired…” I mumbled to myself.
After pouring all my brainpower into preparing for the upcoming meeting, I was running on fumes. And my stomach… growled like it wanted to quit this job before I did.
I finally reached for the sausage bread tucked in my bag. But just as I was about to open it—
Ring. My phone buzzed.
“Thomas…?” I answered, surprised.
“Hello? Are you still at the office?”
“No, I just got off work,” I said, shifting the phone against my cheek.
“Don’t work overtime!” he scolded gently. “You’re still new here…”
I chuckled. “It’s not really overtime. I’m just slow at things right now. I need to catch up.”
There was a pause on the other end.
“Ah… It’s my fault,” Thomas said quietly. “I should’ve helped you more…”,
I stopped walking, blinking at his voice—soft, honest.
“You do help me a lot,” I said. “And… thanks for that bread today.”
“The sausage bread—it wasn’t me,” Thomas said, voice unusually firm over the phone.
I blinked, caught off guard. “Really?”
“Yes,” he replied, though the word wavered halfway through. “Rea…lly.”
I smiled softly, letting the silence sit for a beat. “You can be honest with me.”
A pause.
Then, he sighed in surrender. “...Right. It was me.”
I felt my chest tighten—just a little. Not with surprise, but with something warmer.
“Why did you lie?”
He hesitated again, fumbling through his words. “Uh, actually… when I came back from lunch, it looked like you were sleeping without eating anything. And… well, I’m your mentor, right? I couldn’t just turn a blind eye.”
There was a nervous chuckle, then he continued.
“It’s hard to concentrate on work when you’re hungry. And if your work suffers, you'll get in trouble. You know how Eddie can get when he's angry—he’s really scary sometimes. And... I’m your mentor. If I see you getting in trouble... I won’t... I won’t feel good about it.”
The way he said it—so clumsily sincere—made something stir in me.
“Thank you, mentor,” I said quietly.
There was a beat of silence before he asked gently, “...Did you, perhaps, feel uncomfortable? Because I left a bread on your desk without asking?”
“Nooo,” I replied quickly. “Thanks for the bread.”
He let out a laugh, sounding more relieved than I expected. “Haha, that was the only one left at the store, you know. That bread is very, very popular.”
I imagined him standing in line, scanning the shelves, choosing the last sausage bread with more care than he’d admit.
“Oh, and the reason I didn’t reveal myself earlier was…” He paused, almost sheepish. “I didn’t want anyone to misunderstand my intentions. I wasn’t trying to be creepy or anything.”
“I know,” I said softly. “I really do.”
“…Anyway,” he said, his voice lighter now, “eat it quick. And… see you tomorrow.”
“Okay,” I smiled. “See you tomorrow.”
After the call ended, I looked down at the sausage bread still in my hand.
Somehow, it didn’t feel like just bread anymore.
It was warmth. It was care. It was… Thomas.
“…I knew it was him.”
I whispered it to myself, a tiny smile tugging at the corners of my lips.
And deep down, I also knew—he didn’t have any strange intentions. Thomas was awkward, overly cautious, and sometimes overly chatty, but his heart… was in the right place.
“…Nooo,” I said aloud, shaking my head quickly, trying to push away the strange flutter inside my chest. “That can’t be.”
It’s just bread. I told myself again.
Just bread from a worried mentor. That’s all.
To get rid of the weird feeling growing in my stomach—one that wasn’t exactly hunger—I unwrapped the sausage bread.
The smell alone made me pause. Warm. Buttery. Familiar. I took a bite.
“Mmm… it’s yummy,” I murmured, surprised by how genuinely good it was.
Even with my mind tangled in a hundred thoughts—confusion, amusement, that unexpected warmth still lingering from the call—somehow, the taste cut through it all.
The bread was soft and slightly sweet, the sausage perfectly savory. Comforting. Simple. Just like the person who gave it to me. And despite everything swirling in my head, I found myself smiling—softly, secretly—as I chewed.
At Mia’s Room
“Ah… ahhhh…” I groaned, curling deeper beneath my blanket, though it did little to stop the chill shaking through my bones.
My body felt like it had been hit by a truck.
My head throbbed. My throat burned. My whole body was hot, then cold, then hot again.
Mom was right, I thought weakly.
She said I’d get sick at least once when I start working…
But this? This was worse than I imagined.
My head spun if I so much as blinked too hard, and I could feel tears pricking my eyes—not from sadness, but from the heat that pulsed behind them. My fever made everything blurry. My phone screen, my thoughts, even my sense of time.
I whimpered softly.
“Should’ve eaten properly…”
I skipped lunch.
Had just one sausage bread for dinner.
Then, like a genius, pushed myself to work even more after coming home. And now here I was—sick in bed, unable to move.
A knot of guilt tightened in my chest.
I was a new intern. I couldn’t miss work.
But right now… I couldn’t even sit up.
With trembling fingers, I reached for my phone, squinting through the haze of fever.
“Eddie… Eddie Lewis…” I murmured as I tried to bring up his number.
But before I could press the call button, my phone lit up.
Incoming call: Eddie Lewis
I blinked in surprise.
I hesitated, then slowly answered. “Hello…?”
“Mia?” Eddie’s voice was firm, but laced with concern. “Are you okay? You don’t sound well…”
“Oh… I was just about to call you…” My voice cracked, and I winced. “I’m so sorry, but… I don’t feel very well today…”
“I thought so,” he said without missing a beat. “Something didn’t feel right this morning.”
His words made my chest tighten unexpectedly. He noticed?
“Do you have any medicine at home?” he asked gently.
“I… think so…” I murmured, eyes falling shut again.
> Eddie: “Oh… You don’t live with your family, right? There’s no one to take care of you…”
There was a pause on the line.
> “Oh boy… I can’t just visit a girl’s place when she lives alone…”
I tried to answer, but my voice came out too weak, too thin.
“I’m f-fine—”
> Eddie: “You don’t sound fine at all.” His voice had softened, low with concern.
> “I’ll mark you on sick leave for today. Don’t worry about anything. Just rest, okay?”
I clutched the blanket closer.
“Thank you…”
> “Don’t be sick, I’m worried.”
That… made my chest tighten. Something warm spread through me—quiet and unexpected.
“…Okay,” I whispered.
> “Take care.”
The line clicked.
I stared at the ceiling long after the call ended, but his voice lingered. That gentle warmth… it sounded less like a boss and more like—
A big brother?
Maybe something else. Something I didn’t want to define yet.
But before I could think more, my eyes grew heavy. The kind of heavy that pulls from your bones. My fever hadn’t broken yet, but his kindness had done something else—quieted the restlessness. And just like that, with his sweet voice ringing faintly in my ears—
I fell asleep again.
Later That Evening
“Huh…? What time is it…?”
The orange glow of the sunset filled my room when I opened my eyes. The light slanted across the floor, warm and slow.
I sat up, groggy and dazed.
“Did I just… spend half the day sleeping?”
The last thing I remembered was Eddie’s voice.
Now, it was already late afternoon. I turned on the lights in my room, blinking at how much better I felt.
The headache had faded. My body still ached, but I could move. I could breathe without wincing.
“…Well, that nap worked wonders,” I muttered.
Then I reached for my phone.
The screen lit up—and my eyes widened.
“Why do I have so many notifications…?”
I unlocked my phone, expecting maybe a missed message or two. Instead—
A flood of notifications.
My heart jumped, but then I realized—it was the team chat.
> Eddie: mia is on sick leave today.
> Thomas: OMG..!!
> Gray: How bad is it?
> Eddie: I called her. She didn’t sound so well...
> Thomas: TTTT^TTT
> Gray: Oh no....
> Eddie: No wonder she seemed so off yesterday. I’m out of office this morning, but I’ll be back around lunch.
> Thomas: Yup.
> Gray: Okay.
> Brad: Yes, sir.
> Eddie: It’s cold today, so take care. And take a good rest, mia.
I stared at the screen, quietly stunned.
Everyone… was worried about me?
A warmth slowly bloomed in my chest, pushing away the remnants of fever. I had barely been here a few weeks—and yet, they cared.
I wanted to reply “I feel better now”, but something held me back.
Would that sound like I was making a big deal of being sick?
Would it seem like I wanted attention?
So I didn’t say anything.
I just stared at the messages for a little while, letting them wrap around me like a blanket.
Then, my stomach made a very clear, very sad noise.
"I'm hungry..." I muttered to myself.
I stood slowly, wobbling on my feet. “Hmm… should I have some porridge…?”
I shuffled to the kitchen, opened a cabinet, stared blankly at instant noodles and canned soup. Nothing felt right. Nothing warm enough. Nothing comforting enough.
I sighed and slumped back into bed.
“This is so tiring…”
Everything felt heavy again. My fever was lower, but my energy was still gone.
And worst of all?
“Why,” I groaned, “can’t porridge be delivered!?”
“Huh?” I blinked down at my screen, surprised by a new notification.
Gray: mia.
I smiled.
> mia: Oh, Gray.
> Gray: Are you feeling better?
> mia: Yes, thanks to your worries.
> Gray: Phew… :( Do you know how surprised I was when I heard you were sick this morning? Did you go to the hospital?
> mia: Nope :3
> Gray: You should. :0 The office was so quiet today without you. Totally silent :((
> mia: Wait—am I noisy in the office!?
> Gray: ;) … :P Anyway, take care, and hope to see you tmr :)
> mia: Yup, I’m feeling better!
> Gray: Office without mia is… boring? xD haha. Gray is sad. I miss you. See you tomorrow : D
I stared at the screen.
“He misses me…?” I murmured.
Wasn’t that… a bit too much?
I mean, Gray was always like that—friendly, upbeat, the kind of guy who brought coffee for everyone even if you didn’t ask. He was warm to everyone. So normally I wouldn’t overthink it. But something about this felt just… a little different.
“Ugh, whatever.” I flopped back onto the bed.
My stomach growled again.
“Argh, when will I make my porridge…” I groaned.
Dragging myself up like an ancient spirit rising from the grave, I finally stood. Just as I took a step toward the kitchen—
Ding.
My phone buzzed again.
“Who’s texting me now…?”
I checked the screen and nearly burst out laughing.
> Thomas: mia! TTTTT^TTTT…… TTTTT^TTTTT
> mia: Whaaa, why’re you crying?
I could practically hear his voice behind the message. Dramatic, whiny, full of exaggerated despair.
Even sick, I found myself smiling.
Thomas. > Seriously wuy are you sick why…?? I was so wooried about you and couldn’t work D:
I blinked. The sheer number of typos alone gave me pause.
> Why are you so worried? haha
> How can I MOT be wuriedd??!!
I laughed, weakly but genuinely. It was hard not to with Thomas typing like his keyboard was possessed.
> Ooo Thomas, your typos (.) hahahha
> TTTT_TTTT how can I not be worried Don’t be sick…!
His concern was real, buried in all those extra letters and crying emojis.
> Okayyyyy?
> You should take cccare of yoursdelf: of yourself!! Q_Q
> Calm down lol...
> Are you feeling better now?
> Yes, I’m fine now! Lol
A brief pause—then another flood of messages.
> I’m replying asap to you, see? Woah…
> I couldn’t work because I was so worrried about you and worried that if I text you, I’d disturb your sleep… T^T So I just stared at the group chat to see if youvread my message or not…
I stared at my phone, warmth blooming in my chest again.
> Oh dear… calm down :0
> …Q_Q… Okay, have a good rest and did you eat porridge?
“I’m going to eat it now :D” I texted,
> Thomas: Good girl!
I rolled my eyes with a small laugh. “Yeap.”
> Thomas: Q_Q
That again. The crying face. Always with the crying faces. I stared at the screen,
“Ahh… Thomas is really…” I murmured.
If this wasn’t a love signal… then I didn’t know what one was. I wanted to deny it. I tried to deny it. But his concern, his dramatic texts, the sausage bread and milk on my desk—how could it not mean something?
Then again…Thomas wagged his metaphorical tail for everyone. Eddie, Gray, even the cranky copy machine when it worked properly. He was friendly, overly so, and maybe that’s all this was.Just a kind-hearted guy being kind to the newest girl on the team. Still, I found myself touching my cheek. Warm. Too warm.
“...This is mortifying,” I muttered under my breath. “Why am I thinking like this?”
Then—my phone flashed a low-battery warning.
“Gosh! My phone’s running out of battery!”
Before I could plug it in, a new notification popped up. Brad. I blinked.
> Brad: Hey.
“OMG. Brad?” I said aloud.
> mia: What the—Brad?
> Brad: What.
> mia: What do you mean ‘what’? Tsk tsk.
> Brad: Then what do you mean by tsk tsk.
> mia: Whatever.
> Brad: You okay?
I paused. That... was not what I expected.
> mia: Me?;Me???? This is soooo not like you.
> Brad: What.
> mia: It’s weird that you care about me.
> Brad: What makes you think like that? https://coupon.c.k
…A link? I tapped it cautiously. A digital gift coupon popped up on the screen.
“…Oh wow,” I said in disbelief. “A porridge?”
Brad. Sent. Me. A porridge coupon.bWhat even? I flopped back on my pillow, groaning.
“Can’t you do this properly?! Just say, ‘Hey, feel better soon’ or something.”
Instead, he just threw a link at me like it was a work file.
“This really isn’t that hard,” I muttered, but I was already smiling.