Lilly didn’t even want to go to the mixer.
It was one of those after-hours events management put together to build “company culture,” but really, it just meant awkward conversations over overpriced drinks. Still, showing face mattered, especially when you were still climbing the ladder. So she showed up. Black heels, work smile, one drink in hand.
She made small talk with a few people from the design team, laughed at the right moments, nodded when appropriate. After a while, she drifted toward the edge of the room and found an empty seat at the bar—just far enough to breathe, not far enough to be rude.
That’s when he sat down next to her.
Older, maybe mid-forties, in a charcoal suit that fit too well for someone unimportant. He had a calm presence, like someone who wasn’t in a hurry to impress anyone. At first, he didn’t say anything. Just ordered a drink and sat in silence.
“Long day?” he finally asked.
Lilly gave a polite half-smile. “Always.”
“Work?”
She nodded. “Marketing firm. Deadlines, egos, endless meetings. The usual.”
He chuckled. “You look like someone who keeps it all together.”
“I do,” she said. “Mostly.”
He sipped his drink, then turned slightly toward her. “And what don’t you keep together?”
She hesitated. It wasn’t the kind of question you answer seriously. But something about his tone—casual, nonjudgmental—made it feel safe to answer.
She took a small breath and shrugged. “It’s stupid. I just… sometimes wish I looked a little different. Like, more noticeable.”
He didn’t blink. “Specifics?”
Lilly gave him a look. “That’s bold.”
He raised his eyebrows slightly, as if to say only answer if you want to. She surprised herself by doing just that.
“My chest,” she admitted. “I’ve always been small. It’s never really bothered me until I started seeing how differently people treat women who… aren’t.”
He nodded, like he’d heard this before. Then, without a word, he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small card—plain, cream-colored, slightly textured—and slid it across the bar toward her.
Lilly looked down.
In neat black handwriting, one sentence stared up at her:
“What if my breasts were one cup size larger?”
She blinked. “What is this?”
“A choice,” he said simply. “Read it aloud, and see.”
She looked up, unsure whether to laugh or get up and leave. “Is this some weird joke? Are you with a plastic surgery clinic or something?”
He didn’t smile. “Just read it. Or don’t. But you wouldn’t be the first to ask for a little more.”
And with that, he stood, left cash for his drink, and walked away—vanishing into the crowd before she could find the right words to respond.
Lilly stared down at the card.
She picked it up. Flipped it over.
Blank.
Her fingers tightened around it for a moment… then she slipped it into her purse and turned back to her drink.
She didn’t believe in magic.
But the way he’d looked at her… the way he’d said it…
There was a part of her that didn’t believe it was nonsense either
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