Jill and Sally were chatting in the break room, the afternoon light filtering through the blinds. Coffee cups sat half-empty on the table between them—a momentary respite from the day’s demands.
“How’s it going so far?” Jill asked, leaning back in her chair.
Sally let out a dramatic sigh, brushing her hair back. “I feel like I just adopted two puppies.”
Jill laughed, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “That bad?”
Sally chuckled too, some of the tension leaving her shoulders.
“What about you?” she asked, stirring her coffee idly.
“Hmm… Ashley and Millie keep asking about Alex—just like the other girls. It’s exhausting.” Jill rolled her eyes, clearly having fielded the question one too many times.
Sally frowned. “Ugh, again?” Then added thoughtfully, “Well, they’re the complete opposite of Nao.”
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Just then, as if summoned by her name, Naosa walked in and began making coffee. The scent of freshly ground beans filled the small room as she worked the machine with practiced ease.
They greeted each other politely—professional, but warm.
“How are you today?” Jill asked, watching as Naosa carefully measured the coffee.
“I’m pretty good!” Naosa smiled, her voice light and genuine. She pulled a small ornate box from a drawer, sipped her freshly made coffee, and opened the box with delicate fingers.
She picked a piece of chocolate, popped it into her mouth, and closed her eyes briefly in appreciation.
“Chocolate always goes perfectly with coffee,” she said with unabashed delight, as if sharing a cherished secret.
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Sally, known across the department for her sweet tooth, leaned in, her professional reserve instantly melting away.
“What’s that?” she asked, unable to hide her interest.
“It’s my favorite chocolate. Sooo yummy! Want to try?” Naosa offered the box with an inviting smile.
Sally didn’t hesitate for a second. She picked a piece and popped it into her mouth, her usual brusqueness forgotten.
“Oh no… this is dangerously good,” she groaned dramatically, eyes widening.
“You?” Naosa offered the box to Jill, who accepted a piece curiously.
Jill was pleasantly surprised by the complex flavor that melted on her tongue. “Wow… it’s so rich. Really good,” she admitted, reaching for her coffee to complement it.
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Naosa smiled warmly, clearly pleased by their reactions.
“Where did you get this? It’s addictive!” Sally asked, now eyeing the box with reverence.
“Sorry—it’s imported from Belgium. You can’t find it around here,” Naosa said with a small apologetic shrug.
“Would you like some more?” she added, already holding out the box again.
“Why not?” Sally said, grabbing another and savoring it slowly this time, all pretense of disinterest gone.
Jill, watching the exchange with quiet amusement, thought to herself:
Nao… she’s such a lady—poised, warm, and effortlessly elegant.
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Another day, Naosa was having lunch in the break room when Jill and Sally walked in. The aroma of baked goods filled the space—far more enticing than the usual microwaved leftovers.
“Hi. You haven’t taken your lunch break yet? Not heading to the cafeteria?” Jill asked, eyeing the neat little spread on the table.
“Not today,” Naosa replied, arranging items on a small plate.
“I baked a lot of scones and muffins this morning, so I brought the extras.”
The pastries were golden brown and arranged so neatly on a cloth-covered plate, they looked like they belonged in a bakery window.
Sally zeroed in on them immediately, her gaze locked with the focus of a missile.
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Naosa noticed and smiled, the invitation already in her expression before she even spoke.
“Would you like to share some with me?” she asked, already reaching for extra plates.
“Thank you, but we’re fine. We just had lunch—” Jill began politely, ever mindful of professional boundaries.
“Sure! There’s clotted cream!” Sally interrupted, eyes wide and eager, formal tone completely gone.
“Here you go! I even brought blueberry sauce,” Naosa said brightly, setting it out with elegant silver spoons that looked far too fancy for a hospital break room.
Jill gave a small sigh—playful, resigned.
“All right, I’m in. I’ll brew us some proper British tea,” she said, moving toward the kettle with a smile she couldn’t hide.
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And just like that, the three of them shared a small afternoon tea—laughing, chatting, enjoying the moment like old friends.
The usual hierarchy and professional distance dissolved in the simple pleasure of shared sweets and warm conversation, creating a small oasis of camaraderie in their demanding day.
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