I was at my desk in a small legal office in Westlands, half-typing an email and half-thinking about what I’d cook for supper, when the receptionist knocked and pushed the door open.
Behind her stood a delivery rider, holding a bright pink bakery box. He was smiling—but something about it felt strange, like he knew more than he should.
“I think this is yours,” she said, placing it gently on my desk before leaving.
I frowned. I hadn’t ordered anything. There were no birthdays, no office celebrations—nothing that would explain a cake showing up unannounced. So who would send me one? Get The Full Story Here