I Helped a Female Coworker Organize Her Files, and She Said I Was Her Husband

There was silence for about ten seconds. Then a message from Wendy popped up. [LOL, that edit is pretty good. It almost passed for real.

You don’t actually think I’d believe that, do you?] She followed it with a grinning emoji. I put my phone down and looked up at her desk.

She was propping one leg on her chair, twirling a pen in her hand, and smugly lifting her chin at me. I said nothing.

Actually, when I saw her Instagram post last night, I didn’t even think much of it. I thought she just didn’t know her limits and liked joking around.

I had even decided that if she apologized sincerely, I could forgive her. Sure enough, after a while, Wendy came straight over to my desk.

She braced one hand on my table, leaned down, and said in a tone she clearly thought was charming, “Jason, you saw the group chat, right? Don’t be mad.

I was just saying what you were too shy to say yourself. I know you’re embarrassed.” She smiled and added, “Besides, you’re single and I’m single too.

Maybe if we hang out long enough, we’ll actually end up together.” I looked up at her like she was insane. “Wendy, if the rumors seriously affect me, I can sue you.” “You’d better delete the photo you posted in the group chat, and publicly apologize in the group chat, saying it was AIgenerated.” Wendy’s smile vanished at once.

She straightened up and brushed at her skirt. “Seriously? It’s just a photo. Everybody’s just joking and having fun.

Why are you making such a huge deal out of it?” I didn’t say anything. The look in my eyes made her a little uncomfortable, and she muttered, “Fine, fine, I’ll delete it.

You’re so difficult.” She turned and walked away without apologizing. I waited all morning. Wendy did delete the photo from the group chat.

But then she posted another Instagram update. It was an AIgenerated wedding photo of two people holding hands.

The caption said, [Someone’s being shy and told me not to show off our love. Fine, I’ll delete it like a good girl, but happiness can’t be hidden.

You all get the idea.] The comments were full of [Hahahahaha] and [Got it, got it]. The photo was gone, but her lie had been reinforced.

And I still couldn’t go after her again over a handholding photo where you couldn’t see the faces. I stared at my phone screen and only felt powerless.

The next morning, I got to the company as usual. When I pushed open the glass door, the girl at the front desk glanced at me with a strange expression. I knew something was wrong.

My phone buzzed.

It was a SnapChat message from Kyle in accounting: [Bro, have you seen the group chat?] He sent me another photo Wendy had posted on Instagram of her eating breakfast with someone, though it was impossible to tell who.

I opened the company group chat. There were already 999+ messages. I scrolled up and found a message from 7:13 this morning.

Someone in the company chat had asked Wendy, “Did Jason make breakfast for you?” She deliberately replied in a vague way, “No, no, stop making stuff up.” The company chat exploded. [Holy crap, Wendy’s amazing!] [Hahahahaha, you two are living together?] [Does this count as an official announcement?] [Marry her!

Marry her! Marry her!] [Wendy, dinner’s on you! Celebrate being single no more!] Everyone was teasing and cheering. I watched for a while, then left the chat.

The moment I got back to my desk, I saw a keyboard I had once posted about on Instagram and really wanted, beautifully packaged, with a card beside it that read, To the best of you.

I put the keyboard on the floor, planning to return it to her when I got off work. That was probably not what Wendy expected.

She thought I would blush, hesitate, and reluctantly accept it. But I didn’t say a single word to her.

Close to noon, she sent me a SnapChat message: [I’ll just put the keyboard in your car later. I’m afraid you’ll forget.

Want to have lunch together?] I glanced at it, turned off my phone, and didn’t reply. Fifteen minutes later, she couldn’t sit still anymore.

She came over to my desk, braced both hands on my partition, and leaned down with a condescending attitude. “Jason, I’m serious.” I kept typing and didn’t look up.

She laughed. “You don’t need to be shy. I know you’ve had a crush on me for a long time.

I noticed it from the last team outing, when you helped me get some water.” The last team outing? Get some water? I remembered.

That was three months ago, when the company went out of town for teambuilding training. It was 100 degrees out that summer day, and she was standing in the sun talking to someone.

When I passed by, I casually handed her a bottle of water because the case was right next to me, and I was already grabbing one for myself, so I just took an extra one and passed it to the nearest person, which happened to be her.

That was all. I stopped typing and finally looked at her. “Wendy, you really don’t need to buy me anything. If you really want to thank me, stay away from me.

Thanks.” Her expression froze for a second. “Why are you being so polite with me? I know you’re shy. It’s fine. I’ll give you time.” She patted my divider and walked away.

I sat there, watching her back, and the more I looked, the more ridiculous she seemed. Sure enough, after that, Wendy really did launch a fullon pursuit campaign against me.

First thing in the morning, she ordered me a Starbucks delivery.

When it arrived at my desk, there was a smiley face drawn on the cup with a marker, along with the words, [for my love].

I had front desk send it back and said, “It was delivered to the wrong person.” As usual, she posted pictures on Instagram every day, still of her own homemade breakfast, plated beautifully, with the caption: [I’ll make you breakfast every day from now on.] And again, there was a string of people teasing her in the comments.

I still didn’t reply. Later, she directly blocked me at the elevator entrance in the underground parking garage.

She leaned against the wall beside the elevator, holding a small bouquet of baby’s breath. “Jason, why are you ignoring me?” I replied, “I’m not ignoring you.

I’m at work.” She said, “Then why aren’t you replying to my messages?” I said, “Because I’m at work.” She frowned and took a step closer to me.

I could smell the strong, cheap perfume on her. Her voice lowered, and it actually sounded threatening. “Do you know the whole company is watching us?

Ignoring me like this makes me lose face.” I almost laughed out loud. “Wendy, let me say this one last time.

That night I sorted your files because it was just something I happened to do.

If anyone else had still been working at nine o’clock and hadn’t finished, I would’ve helped a little too.

It had nothing to do with you personally.” Her face changed. “Jason, do you know how many guys like you I’ve seen?

You say no with your mouth, but in your heart you’re dying for me to keep chasing you.

Do you think it’s fun to keep me hanging like this?” I gave a cold laugh. “I’m not keeping you hanging—” She waved a hand and cut me off, her face once again wearing that smile that said she thought she understood everything. “Okay, okay, I get it.

You think girls should be reserved. It’s fine. With you, I don’t need to be reserved.” She turned and walked away, casually tossing the baby’s breath into the trash can beside her.

I looked at the baby’s breath lying in the trash can and suddenly understood. If I didn’t accept her, then I was ungrateful.

If I fought back, then I was being dramatic, fake, and playing hard to get. Wendy kept posting these vague Instagram updates.

When I got so fed up with everyone teasing me that I could barely stand it, I tried posting in the group chat: [Wendy and I are not in a relationship.

Please stop posting and discussing false information about me.] Wendy replied instantly: [Got it, good point!

I’ll shut up!] Then someone immediately replied underneath: [Hahahahahahahahahaha][Wendy’s got her leash on tight][So this is what public flirting looks like?] I also tried sitting down with Wendy privately and speaking very seriously: “Wendy, I have no romantic interest in you.

Your behavior has already caused problems for my work and my life.

If you keep doing this, I’ll file a complaint with HR.” Wendy sat in her chair, twirling a pen, and after listening, she tilted her head to look at me.

There was something in her expression that made me very uncomfortable.

As she left, she looked at me and said, “You’re just saying the opposite of what you mean.” I was so angry I stood there for a long time before I calmed down.

That day I worked until eight, and when I was packing up to leave, I found my car key missing. I searched every drawer and my bag, but it was nowhere.

Just as I was about to go home to get my spare key, I saw my car downstairs by the company entrance.

The door was unlocked, and on the passenger seat was a note. [Your car was filthy, so I took it to get washed. No need to thank me.

That’s what a girlfriend should do.] I stood by the car, shaking with rage. She had taken my car key, driven my car, and entered my private space without permission.

That was crossing the line. I took a deep breath, pulled out my phone, took pictures of the note and the car door, then called a rideshare driver to take the car back home.

The next day, I got the building management to pull the CCTV from the underground garage.

The footage clearly showed Wendy using a key to unlock my car at 6:00 p.m. and driving it away. Two hours later, she drove it back, locked it, and left.

I copied the footage and then went to the auto shop next to the company. I asked the mechanic to check whether there was a tracker or any other device installed in the car.

He checked it over and shook his head, saying there wasn’t. When I was done, I sat in the car, completely exhausted. I knew I couldn’t sit here and wait anymore.