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"Love is the condition in which the happiness of another person is essential to your own."

- Robert Heinlein

Pam pressed her cheek against the cool window, scanning the world around them as it flew by. She was sitting quietly in the truck on the way to work while Roy drummed his fingers on the steering wheel nervously, occasionally stealing glances at her. They hadn't spoken to each other that morning aside from their forced pleasantries.

"Lost myself and I am nowhere to be found . . ." the girl on the radio sung sadly in the background.

They passed by a small art store she hadn't visited before. She imagined stopping by there on the way home, carefully running her hands over art supplies she couldn't afford. The idea was stupid, she knew that, but something about its spontaneity appealed to her.

"Something wrong, babe?" Roy asked, breaking her out of her reverie.

"I'm fine," she said dully.

He glanced at her. "You're not still mad about last night, are you?"

She shook her head. "No," she lied.

It had occurred over dinner. She had rehearsed the words in her head, steeling herself for the inevitable fight. This time, she had reassured herself firmly, it will be different. I will explain everything and he'll understand. Roy, too busy craning his neck to look at the latest basketball game on TV, didn't notice her anxiety.

Pam toyed with the vegetables on her plate before dropping her fork with a clatter. She looked at Roy hesitantly. "Roy, can I talk to you about something?"

"Hmm?" he responded distractedly, his eyes still glued to the television screen.

"Do you even want to get married?" she asked softly.

"What?" He turned around and looked at her, frowning. "Of course I do."

"Then how come you won't agree to set a wedding date?" she pleaded, her words coming out in a rush. "Mom just told me Shannon is already preparing for her wedding."

He continued to look bewildered. "So? What does Shannon have to do with anything?"

"Nothing - she just - she's three years younger than us and she's only been dating Brian for two years. We've been together for longer but we're not even close to getting married." She absentmindedly picked on her cuticles, a nervous habit she had recently picked up.

"Of course we are, we're engaged."

"Well, it doesn't feel like it sometimes," she mumbled, her eyes glued back onto her plate.

"Wait, what?" He shifted his full attention to her, his posture suddenly defensive. "I already proposed to you. How are we not engaged?"

"Because the point in getting engaged is to get married, Roy!" she shot back, her voice finally rising. "Why can't you see that? Is there something wrong with me? Do you - ?"

He pushed his chair back and walked towards the sink to put his plate away. "Damn it, Pam, I'm not talking about this," he said firmly over the running water. "I've told you hundreds of times, I do want to get married, right now just isn't a good time. We barely have any money to afford a wedding." He shut the tap with a sigh and looked at Pam wearily.

She opened her mouth and closed it. A part of her was tempted to point out how he had wasted part of their savings on the WaveRunners he got with Kenny. But it was pointless; she knew better than to continue the argument because whatever she said would only make him too defensive to listen.

"Fine," she said, her voice a near whisper. "Just forget it." Her shoulders slumped in defeat. With a nod, Roy returned to the living room to continue watching the game. Meanwhile, Pam sat at the kitchen table, moving the food around her plate disinterestedly. It was as if nothing had happened.

She couldn't explain how, almost twelve hours later, the conversation from the previous night still poisoned her mood. They had heated arguments about the wedding before. Granted, there were times when Roy acquiesced to her pleas, but the plans always fell through. "September," he would reassure her, but not much else was said. Next thing Pam knew, September came and went, and she was still stuck as Beesly instead of Anderson.

Finally, Roy pulled into the parking lot and turned off the engine. "C'mon, Pammy. You know I want to marry you. You get it, right?" He looked at her pleadingly, his eyes soft.

Still, something about his patronizing tone set her teeth on edge. She forcefully unbuckled her seatbelt and opened the car door. "No, I get it," she replied sardonically. "It's just not the right time." She slammed the door and quickly strode towards the building, ignoring Roy's indignant protests behind her.

* * *

Something was up with Pam. That morning, Jim went straight to her desk, as usual, shrugging off his jacket, but his enthusiastic greeting was only met with a terse, "Hey" and averted eyes. He contemplated asking what was wrong but thought better of it. If questioned, she would only withdraw further, instead choosing to reveal herself on her own terms. He settled for giving her a small smile and walked towards his desk.

He glanced at the calendar, sighing. It would be another long day at work, it seemed.

For the rest of the day, Pam's mood didn't change. She wasn't even fazed by Dwight's new level of obnoxiousness or Michael's inane requests. It was only after lunch when he found out what was wrong.

Kelly was waiting by the copier when her eyes drifted towards reception. "Hey, Pam? Didn't you say you were getting married this spring?" Kelly asked quizzically. Jim, who was busily scribbling on his paper, froze and strained to hear their conversation.

"Oh, um, no," Pam replied, startled. "I mean, we rescheduled it because, you know, money has been tight these days and a wedding would be expensive, so . . ." Her eyes darted around the office, as if she was trying to find an escape.

"Oh my God, you guys canceled the wedding again?"

"You know, I don't really want to talk about it," Pam muttered.

Of course that asshole was behind it. Typical. He felt a hot flash of anger towards Roy. It just bothered Jim more than anything - even more than his hopeless situation with Pam - how she was with someone who didn't make her happy. Roy didn't even know how lucky he was and it infuriated him.

Nonetheless, as selfish as it was, he couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief at the news. The delayed wedding renewed his hope that maybe one day they could finally surrender to the inevitable and just be together.

When Pam scanned her computer screen indifferently, her lips still downturned, he couldn't take it anymore. Jim shoved the piece of paper he was writing on in his pocket and walked over to her desk.

"Today is April 27th," he said, grabbing a jellybean and casually leaning over her desk. "Do you realize what that means?"

"Another day stuck here?" she said gloomily. She looked down at her hands, twisting her engagement ring distractedly.

He shook his head. "Pam, I'm shocked. Of all people, you should know. No, today is Secretary's Day. I know, technically you're a receptionist, but . . ." He shrugged and grinned at her hopefully.

She snorted. "Oh, right, that's something to celebrate," she said sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "Who wouldn't be proud to be a receptionist?"

He frowned. "Hey, there's nothing wrong with your job." When she didn't look convinced, he continued, "Look, I know this isn't what you dreamed of, but you still do a really good job around here. I mean, how many people do you know who could put up with Michael the way you do?"

As if on cue, Michael emerged from the office and cleared his throat loudly. "Things have been so blah around here," he announced. "So I was thinking - next Thursday we are going to have a party." He scanned the room, surveying everyone's reactions.

Angela looked up from the copier and narrowed her eyes at Michael with her signature quirked eyebrow. "For what?"

"Next week is 05-05-05!" Michael enthused.

Jim turned back to Pam and raised his eyebrows. "See?" he said over the sound of Stanley's exasperated protests. "You can deal with that on a daily basis without losing it. That has to count for something, right?"

She smiled wryly. "Thanks."

"Anyway, like I was saying, today's Secretary's Day. And, in honor of the occasion, I got you something." He drummed his fingers on her desk, his pulse quickening.

"What?" She tilted her head to the side, puzzled.

"Here." He handed her the piece of paper he was writing on earlier. At the top, combined with the company logo, it read, "Dunder Mifflin, this is Pam." Below was a cartoon of a smirking Pam holding a phone to her ear.

She stared at the drawing in her hands, her mouth hanging open. He eyed her anxiously, unable to gauge her reaction. He cleared his throat before quickly saying, "You're an artist, so, uh, I figured you would appreciate some of my own work." When she didn't say anything, he added hastily, "Okay, no, it sucks, but I did warn you that one time about how I'm bad at drawing."

He suddenly felt like an idiot. Why would a stupid drawing make her feel better?

She blinked and looked up at him as if she suddenly realized he was talking. She shook her head and smiled, her eyes twinkling. "No, it's amazing! I can't believe you did this. I should hang this up somewhere . . ." She scanned her desk for an empty spot.

"Pam, c'mon, you don't have to lie about liking your gift." He rolled his eyes, struggling to fight his grin.

"I'm not lying!" she protested. "Look, you made my hair curly! And you drew my cardigan, too." She carefully traced the paths his pen had etched onto the paper earlier.

"Yeah, well, I had to make it a little realistic."

Pam bit her lip, her face suddenly serious. "Wow this . . . really means a lot. I was having such a bad day because of - well, anyway, um, thank you."

"You're welcome." They smiled at each other, but after a few seconds, their expressions lost any trace of geniality. Jim gazed at her intently, wondering how far he could push this. He nervously glanced down at her lips. Pam's eyes widened, but she didn't look away. Suddenly his heart was pounding in his ears, so loud he swore she could hear it too. Please tell me I'm not imagining this. Does she feel it too? She has to, there's no way she can't.

Pam broke their gaze and glanced at Michael again ("No, corporate doesn't - just - shut it, Toby! This only happens once every billion years!"), before sighing. "I don't know what I'd do if you didn't work here. You're like one of my best friends. Not just here, but, you know, in general, too."

Jim's stomach dropped. Whatever he expected her to say, it wasn't that. "Yeah, same here," he murmured.

Except that she wasn't just a best friend to him. If she were, he wouldn't feel like he was suffocating whenever she left work, her hands intertwined with Roy's. He wouldn't fantasize about holding her in his arms, breathing her in, while their lips moved eagerly against each other. And, most importantly, he wouldn't be so torn between both fearing and wanting to tell her those three precious words that would undoubtedly shatter their friendship forever.

"Hey, you still have time on your break, right? You want to grab some chips or something?" she asked hopefully, carefully placing the drawing on top of a nearby stack of papers.

"Yeah." He gestured for her to lead the way. Walking behind her, he felt a mixture of elation and disappointment. He forced his uneasiness away, reassuring himself, one day . . .

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