I smiled at Tieu Chu.

“Yes.”

“But General Manager Co approved it?”

“He will.”

Her face became even paler.

I handed her the first folder.

“This contains his daily schedule. He doesn’t eat breakfast before eight unless he has an early flight. Coffee without sugar, but don’t give it to him on an empty stomach. He has chronic gastritis.”

Second folder.

“His regular clients. President Chu hates being interrupted. Director Tran likes to discuss business after dinner. Mr. Trieu gets migraines, so avoid strong lighting.”

Third.

“Emergency contacts.”

Fourth.

“Family matters.”

Tieu Chu stared at the growing mountain.

“How did you remember all this?”

I paused.

Because I loved him.

But I couldn’t say that.

So I smiled.

“Six years is a long time.”

Behind us, a voice suddenly sounded.

“Apparently long enough for you to write an instruction manual for replacing yourself.”

We both froze.

Co Dien Chi stood several steps away.

His expression was unreadable.

Tieu Chu immediately stood.

“General Manager Co.”

He ignored her.

His gaze fell on the folders.

Then on me.

“My office.”

—

The door closed.

He loosened his tie.

“Your resignation hasn’t been approved.”

“I know.”

“Then why are you handing over your work?”

“Because you said to follow procedure.”

His jaw tightened.

“Khuong Tri.”

“Yes?”

“When is the wedding?”

My heart skipped.

“What?”

“You said your boyfriend proposed.”

He looked directly at me.

“When are you marrying him?”

I had lied.

There was no boyfriend.

There had never been one.

For four years, the only man I’d loved was standing in front of me.

But admitting that now would be humiliating.

So I said:

“We haven’t chosen a date.”

“Name?”

I blinked.

“Excuse me?”

“Your boyfriend’s name.”

“Why does HR need that?”

“It doesn’t.”

“Then I don’t think I need to answer.”

His fingers began tapping the desk.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Then he stopped.

“Fine.”

He signed my resignation.

The pen nearly tore the paper.

“Since you’ve decided, I won’t keep you.”

My heart hurt.

But I smiled.

“Thank you, General Manager Co.”

—

My last day came three weeks later.

At five in the afternoon, my desk was empty.

Six years reduced to one cardboard box.

A mug.

Two notebooks.

A dying succulent.

And a fountain pen Co Dien Chi had given me after Northstar Group’s first major overseas acquisition.

The engraving said:

For Khuong Tri, who never makes mistakes.

Funny.

My biggest mistake had lasted four years.

I carried the box toward the elevator.

The entire secretary department came to say goodbye.

Tieu Chu cried.

Even Trieu Tram appeared with flowers.

“I meant what I said.”

He handed them to me.

“Come work for me.”

I laughed.

“Double salary?”

“Triple.”

“Dangerous promise.”

“I can afford it.”

The elevator opened.

Before I stepped inside, I looked once toward the general manager’s office.

The door remained closed.

Co Dien Chi didn’t come out.

Of course he didn’t.

I entered the elevator.

The doors began closing.

At the final second, a hand appeared between them.

They opened again.

Co Dien Chi stood there.

His breathing was slightly uneven.

Everyone immediately became silent.

He looked at the flowers in my arms.

Then at Trieu Tram.

His expression darkened.

“Mr. Trieu, don’t you have your own company to manage?”

Trieu Tram smiled.

“I came to recruit talent.”

“She hasn’t even left the building.”

“That’s why I’m early.”

Their eyes met.

I suddenly felt exhausted.

“General Manager Co.”

Co Dien Chi looked at me.

“Thank you for these six years.”

I bowed slightly.

Then I entered the elevator.

This time, he didn’t stop the doors.

—

I didn’t get married.

Instead, I slept for eleven hours.

The next morning, I woke up at nine and panicked because Co Dien Chi had an investor call at nine thirty.

My hand was already reaching for my phone before I remembered.

Not my problem.

I lay back down.

For the first time in six years, nobody needed me.

It felt empty.

Then it felt wonderful.

I traveled for two weeks.

Visited my parents.

Learned to cook three dishes badly.

Ignored Trieu Tram’s recruitment messages until he sent:

“Triple salary still valid. Office has windows. Boss extremely handsome.”

I replied:

“The last point lowers the offer.”

He sent six laughing emojis.

Eventually, I accepted a position at his company.

Not as a secretary.

Director of executive operations.

Better salary.

Normal hours.

A team beneath me.

And most importantly, my life no longer revolved around one man’s phone calls.

—

Three months later, I saw Co Dien Chi again.

At a business dinner.

The moment I entered, he looked up.

His eyes stayed on me.

I wore a dark green dress instead of office clothes.

My hair was loose.

Trieu Tram pulled out my chair.

Co Dien Chi’s face became expressionless.

Halfway through dinner, someone mentioned:

“Director Khuong has transformed Trieu Group’s executive operations.”

Another laughed.

“President Trieu really stole a treasure.”

Trieu Tram raised his glass.

“I tried for six years.”

Across the table, Co Dien Chi put down his chopsticks.

Hard.

After dinner, he caught me outside.

“You work for Trieu Tram now?”

“Yes.”

“He’s pursuing you.”

I stared.

“That’s not a work question.”

His face tightened.

“What happened to your fiancé?”

I should have continued lying.

Instead, I suddenly became tired of hiding.

“There wasn’t one.”

Silence.

His expression changed completely.

“What?”

“I lied.”

“Why?”

I looked at him.

“Because I needed a reason you would accept.”

“For leaving me?”

“For leaving the job.”

“Same thing.”

My heart stopped.

He seemed to realize what he’d said.

I laughed softly.

“No, General Manager Co. Those are very different things.”

He stepped closer.

“Why did you really resign?”

I looked into the eyes I’d avoided for four years.

“Because you were getting engaged.”

His face went still.

“To whom?”

Now it was my turn to stare.

“The eldest daughter of the Tham family.”

For several seconds, he simply looked at me.

Then:

“Who told you that?”

“Everyone knew.”

“I didn’t.”

I almost became angry.

“Tran Tinh Vien announced it at your welcome dinner.”

“Tran Tinh Vien also once announced that I had secretly fathered twins in Switzerland.”

I blinked.

“He was drunk.”

“You raised your glass.”

“I was drinking to his return.”

“You didn’t deny it!”

“I didn’t realize my secretary required an official response to drunken gossip.”

My cheeks burned.

Then another thought came.

“The Tham family?”

“Our families discussed a possible business alliance. Her father suggested marriage.”

“And?”

“I refused.”

One word.

Four months of heartbreak collapsed around it.

Then Co Dien Chi asked quietly:

“Khuong Tri, did you resign because you liked me?”

I wanted the earth to open.

“No.”

He stared.

I sighed.

“Yes.”

—

He didn’t smile.

That made it worse.

“For how long?”

“Four years.”

His eyes closed briefly.

“You stayed beside me for four years and said nothing?”

“You were my boss.”

“You could have told me.”

“And if you didn’t feel the same?”

I shook my head.

“I would have lost my dignity and possibly my career.”

He became silent.

Then he said:

“I’ve spent the last three months looking for a man who doesn’t exist.”

I stared.

“What?”

“Your fiancé.”

My mouth opened.

“I had people check every public marriage registration announcement I could legally access. I asked HR whether you’d updated your emergency contact. I even asked your former university classmate.”

I couldn’t believe him.

“You investigated my imaginary boyfriend?”

“I disliked him.”

“You didn’t know him!”

“Exactly.”

Despite myself, I laughed.

Co Dien Chi looked offended.

Then I noticed something.

His index finger was tapping against his leg.

Once.

Twice.

Nervous.

Not impatient.

Nervous.

“Why did you care?” I whispered.

His hand stopped.

He looked at me for a long time.

“Because when you handed me your resignation, I realized I had arranged my entire life around the assumption that you would remain in it.”

My heart hurt.

But I had learned something since leaving.

Being needed wasn’t enough.

So I asked:

“Do you love me?”

He was silent.

And that silence gave me my answer.

Or at least enough of one.

I stepped back.

“Don’t confuse dependence with love.”

His expression changed.

“Khuong Tri—”

“You miss the secretary who remembered your medication, your flights and your clients.”

I smiled sadly.

“Figure out whether you miss me.”

Then I left.

—

He did.

But not quickly.

For almost a year, Co Dien Chi didn’t ask me to return.

He didn’t interfere with my work.

He didn’t send extravagant gifts.

Instead, he learned how to run his own life without me.

Tieu Chu later told me he’d started remembering his own appointments.

He hired a professional executive team instead of expecting one secretary to be available twenty-four hours a day.

He even began eating breakfast without someone reminding him.

Occasionally, he invited me to dinner.

Not business dinners.

Just dinner.

The first time, I refused.

The second, too.

The third time, I accepted.

Slowly, I met a man I had never known while working for him.

He was terrible at choosing restaurants.

He loved old detective novels.

He hated coriander.

He was unexpectedly funny when nobody important was watching.

And he learned things about me too.

That I loved hiking.

That I wanted a dog.

That my favorite flowers weren’t the expensive lilies he always ordered for corporate events.

They were daisies.

One evening, almost two years after my resignation, he took me back to the restaurant where we’d had our first real dinner.

There was no audience.

No business partner.

No secretary waiting outside.

He put a small ring box on the table.

I stared.

He said:

“Before you panic, I’m not asking my employee to marry me.”

I laughed.

“Good. Because I resigned.”

“I noticed.”

He opened the box.

“Khuong Tri, I spent six years believing having you beside me was natural.”

His voice softened.

“Then I spent one year learning that your presence was never something I was entitled to.”

He knelt.

“So this time, I’m asking.”

“Will you marry me?”

I looked at him.

Then deliberately waited.

His face became tense.

I smiled.

“Yes.”

He exhaled so hard I laughed.

—

At our wedding, Tran Tinh Vien raised his glass.

“I would like everyone to remember that technically this marriage exists because I spread an inaccurate engagement rumor.”

Co Dien Chi looked at him coldly.

“You’re banned from speaking.”

Everyone laughed.

I did too.

Years earlier, I’d thought leaving meant losing the man I loved.

Instead, leaving was the first thing that gave us any possibility of loving each other properly.

As his secretary, I had been indispensable.

As a woman, I had been invisible.

I needed to walk away before Co Dien Chi could understand the difference.

And he needed to lose the person who organized his entire life before he could decide whether he loved the convenience she provided—

or the woman herself.

In the end, my resignation wasn’t the end of our story.

It was the first page on which we finally stood as equals.

Not General Manager Co and Secretary Khuong.

Not boss and subordinate.

Just Dien Chi and Khuong Tri.

And this time, when I stayed beside him, it wasn’t because answering his call was my job.

It was because I had chosen to answer.