Daniel had been parachuted into the company a year ago.
Young and underestimated at first, his calm decisiveness and a few crises defused had earned him universal admiration — mine included. At that time I admired him from afar.
One night when I was working late, a group of creeps harassed us on the way home.

Daniel appeared like a guardian angel and rescued us, then kindly offered, "I'll take you home."
My heart fluttered like it never had.
The next day he was the same cool, distant Daniel at the office.
I adored him but felt there was no way to approach him.
Who would have thought he liked me too — and so secretly? When had he fallen for me? Maybe that night.
I wanted to ask him, but he disappeared like a ghost. He'd tied me up, yet he was the one appearing and vanishing.

Then my eye caught something glinting.
I picked up a shard of glass a little smaller than half my palm wedged between the nightstand and the wall.
It must have been from the broken glass earlier and hadn't been swept up — Daniel hadn't noticed it, since it lay in his blind spot.
I planned to toss it in the bathroom bin so nobody would cut themselves.

The chain let me move only within the room, but that was enough.
Just as I stepped into the bathroom, I heard the door open — Daniel, no doubt — because I'd checked the lock earlier: fingerprint unlock only he could use.
Before I could say I was in the bathroom, he was there, sudden and tense.
He lunged and snatched the shard from my hand; he cut his palm on the edge, blood pouring out.
He barely flinched and instead looked furious and pained.
"You want to kill yourself?!" he snarled. I stared in disbelief. What? Kill myself? I had no idea.