I had been secretly in love with Daniel for years. So when he asked me to dinner, I didn’t hesitate. I was too excited to say no. But when I got to the restaurant, he never showed up. Instead, a waiter handed me a note.
“Stand up and go to the bathroom. And when you open the door, you have to lock it behind you ;)”
My stomach twisted.
This wasn’t the Daniel I had admired from afar. The charming, confident, successful department head. The man who made every woman in the office swoon with just a glance. The one I had spent too many days staring at, hopelessly thinking he’d never notice me.
But then, he did.
It happened one late evening when I was still at my desk, going over quarterly reports. The office was mostly empty, and I was lost in my work when a deep voice made me jump.
“Working late again?”
I looked up, and there he was—Daniel. Leaning casually against my cubicle wall, looking at me with an amused smile. He smelled expensive, something woodsy and rich, and my heart raced just being near him.
“You know, Cindy, I’ve noticed how dedicated you are,” he said smoothly. “Want to grab dinner after work tomorrow? You deserve a break.”
I could barely breathe. “Dinner? With you?”
“Unless you’d rather eat with someone else?” he teased, raising an eyebrow.
“No! I mean—yes. Dinner sounds great.”
“Perfect. Luigi’s at seven? It’s that Italian place on Maple Street. I’ll meet you there.”
He walked away before I could even process what had just happened. As soon as he was gone, I grabbed my phone and called my best friend, Margo.
“You won’t believe what just happened.”
“Did you finally figure out that spreadsheet error?” she joked, her kids screaming in the background.
“Daniel asked me out.”
Silence. Then a scream so loud I had to pull the phone away from my ear.
“WHAT? Like, actual Daniel? Hot, bossy, looks-like-he-should-be-on-a-magazine-cover Daniel?”
“Yes,” I said, still in disbelief. “Dinner. Tomorrow.”
“I’m coming over right now! You have to wear my blue dress—the one that makes even my post-twins body look good.”
And just like that, my life felt like a dream.
The next day dragged by. I arrived at the restaurant 15 minutes early, wearing Margo’s blue dress, my nerves a mess. I ordered water and waited.
And waited.
And waited.
The waiter kept coming by, looking at me with pity. “More water?” he asked for the third time.
“He’s just running late,” I murmured, mostly to convince myself.
But by 7:30, I had shredded my napkin into tiny pieces. That’s when the waiter approached with a folded note.
“This was left for you at the front desk,” he said.
My fingers trembled as I unfolded it. I had hoped for an apology, an explanation. Maybe a work emergency? A flat tire? Something?
Instead, I read those awful words:
“Stand up and go to the bathroom. And when you open the door, you have to lock it behind you ;)”
Shock. Humiliation. Disgust. A mix of emotions swirled in my chest. Was this what he thought of me? That I was so desperate, so pathetic, that I’d agree to something like this?
Fury burned through my embarrassment. If this was his idea of a joke, he was about to regret it.
I stormed to the bathroom, ready to tell him exactly what I thought of his disgusting “offer.”
But when I pushed open the door, I froze.
Daniel wasn’t alone.
Two men from the marketing department stood beside him. One of them held his phone up, camera pointed at me.
They were laughing.
“That’s it, the bet’s over. I did it,” Daniel announced, grinning at his friends.
“A bet?” I whispered, barely able to get the words out.
Daniel shrugged as if it were nothing. “Nothing personal.”
Then he pushed past me, his friends still laughing, still filming. I stood there, stunned, their laughter ringing in my ears long after they were gone.
I had thought the worst thing he could do was stand me up. I was wrong. Being humiliated like this, treated like a joke—it was worse than I could have imagined.
I went home and curled up in bed, my heart aching.
But the nightmare wasn’t over.
The next morning, my phone buzzed with notifications.
Daniel had posted the video.
He had shared it in a company group chat, with a caption that made me sick:
“Didn’t take much convincing 😏”
I wanted to disappear. I called in sick. The next day, too. I couldn’t bear to face my coworkers.
Then, on the third day, my phone rang. The caller ID made my stomach drop.
Mr. Reynolds.
The company owner.
“Cindy,” he said, his tone unreadable. “I expect to see you in the office within the hour. Or clean out your desk.”
My heart pounded. “Yes, sir.”
When I arrived, I was led to the conference room. The entire company was there.
Daniel sat near the front, looking smug.
Mr. Reynolds stood next to a projector screen. He looked at me and gave a slight nod before turning to the room.
“Now that we’re all here,” he said, “let’s talk about something important.”
The screen flickered to life.
And there it was.
The video.
Whispers rippled through the room. My face burned with shame.
Then, to my shock, Mr. Reynolds chuckled.
“Alright,” he said. “Who thinks this video is funny? Be honest. Raise your hand.”
Seven hands went up. Including Daniel’s.
Mr. Reynolds’ smile disappeared. His voice turned ice-cold.
“And who here thinks this is disgusting, unprofessional behavior that has no place in our company?”
Hands shot up. Five. Ten. Fifteen.
Mr. Reynolds turned back to Daniel, his expression hard. “Everyone who found this funny, collect your things and leave. You’re fired.”
Silence.
Daniel’s face went pale. “What? You can’t be serious! It was just a joke!”
“Workplace harassment isn’t a joke,” Mr. Reynolds said. “Neither is recording someone without their consent. Security will escort you out.”
As Daniel and his cronies were led away, Mr. Reynolds turned to me.
“Cindy, I owe you an apology. This should never have happened.”
“Thank you,” I managed, still stunned.
“And one more thing,” he said. “We have a vacant department head position now. Based on your work performance and the respect you have from your colleagues, I’d like to offer it to you.”
My breath caught. “You want me to replace Daniel?”
“I want the best person for the job,” he corrected. “And that’s you.”
I blinked, my mind racing. Then I thought about it—what I could do with this position, the changes I could make.
I stood straighter. “Yes,” I said. “I accept.”
In three days, I had gone from invisible to department head. And I had finally realized something important.
I had never been invisible. I had just been looking for validation from the wrong people.
