Chapter 4: No Private Meeting
For several seconds, I couldn’t remember what I had been about to type.
I stared at the agenda on my screen until the words stopped swimming. The office kept moving around me—phones ringing, keyboards clicking, someone asking for a stapler—but I felt as if I were still standing beside Daniel, waiting for him to explain what was so important.
He hadn’t explained.
I took a slow breath and opened a blank note. The next item on my list was simple: send the corrected meeting packet to the branch team. I checked the attachment twice before sending it. Then I checked it a third time.
A small mistake in a report could be fixed. A conversation with Daniel could not be made so tidy.
When Aiden came out of the conference room, I waited until he’d finished speaking with one of the employees. Then I walked to his office and stopped just inside the doorway.
“Do you have a minute, sir?”
He set down the folder in his hand.
“Of course. What is it?”
I shut the door most of the way, leaving it open a few inches. I wasn’t trying to create secrecy. I just wanted a little quiet.
“Daniel asked to speak with me again,” I said. “He told me it wasn’t about work. He said he had something important to tell me, but he didn’t say what.”
Aiden’s expression stayed professional. He didn’t ask why Daniel wanted to talk or what had happened between us.
“What would you like me to do?”
That question loosened something in my chest. He wasn’t offering to take over. He was asking what I wanted.
“If he asks again, I’d like the request kept on the work calendar,” I said. “Not listed as a work meeting. Just documented, so I’m not being asked to step away without anyone knowing where I went.”
“Understood.”
“I don’t want you to speak for me or make a decision about whether I should see him. I just don’t want to be pulled into a private conversation at work.”
“I won’t speak for you,” Aiden said. “If he makes another request, I can make sure it’s noted. Do you want me to be there?”
I hesitated. The thought of Aiden stepping in made me feel both safer and uneasy. I didn’t want to turn my personal history into his responsibility.
“Not unless I ask,” I said. “If he comes back, I only want someone nearby. A witness. I can talk for myself.”
“All right.”
He took a moment before adding, “You can change your mind at any time.”
“I know.”
I returned to my desk with my shoulders still tense, but at least the next step was mine to choose. I opened the meeting calendar and checked the afternoon schedule. The conference room had a short check-in booked, then a review call. Nothing on it had Daniel’s name.
I wasn’t going to add anything without a reason.
For nearly an hour, I managed to concentrate. I sorted the branch notes into confirmed items and unanswered questions, then sent the clean copy to the people who needed it. My work gave my mind something solid to hold on to. Numbers didn’t ask me to explain myself. A checklist didn’t look at me like it was waiting for an answer.
Then Daniel appeared near my desk.
He had finished his meeting. The folder he’d carried earlier was tucked beneath one arm, and his tie had shifted slightly at the collar. He didn’t come too close, but the sight of him still made my hands go cold.
“Hira,” he said.
I kept my voice level.
“Is this about work?”
“No.”
“Then the answer is still no private conversation at the office.”
His gaze moved briefly toward the other desks. A few people were working nearby, but no one seemed to be paying attention.
“I’m not asking you to make a scene,” he said.
“I’m not making one.”
“I only need a few minutes.”
“You said that before. I asked what you wanted to tell me, and you didn’t answer.”
His mouth tightened. For a moment, he seemed to be searching for a different way to phrase the same request.
“It’s personal,” he said at last.
“Then this isn’t the place.”
He glanced around again. His eyes lingered on the employees working within earshot.
“People could misunderstand if they see us talking like this.”
The words landed harder than they should have. I felt the old reflex—the urge to lower my voice, smooth things over, make sure no one thought badly of him or of me.
I pressed my palms flat against the desk.
“I’m not asking anyone to misunderstand anything,” I said. “I’m asking you not to corner me at work.”
“I didn’t corner you.”
“You came to my desk after I already said no.”
He let out a quiet breath and lowered his voice.
“That’s exactly what I mean. If people start asking questions about our history, it won’t help either of us.”
Our history. Two words that made everything sound shared, balanced, and finished. They left no room for the things I remembered or the way I felt when he appeared without warning.
I lifted my chin.
“You don’t get to use what people might think to make me stay quiet.”
His eyes sharpened.
“That’s not what I’m doing.”
“Then tell me what you want to tell me without asking me to leave my workplace.”
He looked down at the folder beneath his arm. His fingers shifted along its edge.
“I’m not going to say it here.”
“Then you’re choosing not to tell me.”
For a few seconds, neither of us spoke. My pulse beat fast in my throat. I was afraid of what he might say next, but that fear didn’t mean I had to give him what he wanted.
Daniel’s gaze flicked toward the open doorway of Aiden’s office.
“Is he involved in this?”
“No,” I said. “This is between you and me. That doesn’t mean you get to decide where and when it happens.”
His face changed, the smallest fracture in the calm expression he’d been holding.
“I’m not trying to cause problems for you.”
“Then respect what I’ve said.”
He looked past me toward the office floor. For a moment, I wondered whether he would keep pushing. Instead, he stepped back.
“Fine,” he said. “I’ll go.”
I didn’t answer. I waited until he turned away before I let out the breath I’d been holding.
He walked toward the hallway without looking back.
I sat down carefully, as if sudden movement might make my legs give out. My hands were trembling. I tucked them beneath the desk and counted a few breaths before reaching for my mouse.
Aiden came to the doorway a minute later. He didn’t cross into my space.
“Do you want me to do anything?”
“No.” I swallowed. “Thank you for asking.”
“Would you like me to note that he came by?”
I looked at the screen, where the report I’d been reviewing waited in neat rows.
“Yes, please. Just the time and that it wasn’t work-related. Nothing else.”
“Understood.”
He didn’t ask me to tell him more. He didn’t tell me I’d handled it well or that I had nothing to fear. He simply made the note, as I’d asked, and left me to return to my work.
That afternoon, I finished the report and sent it before the deadline. The last hour of the day passed slowly, but it passed. When I got home, I told my aunty that Daniel had come to speak with me.
She listened without interrupting.
“What do you want to do?” she asked when I finished.
“I don’t know yet.”
“Then you don’t have to decide tonight.”
I sat beside her, letting the quiet settle around us. I missed my daughter. I missed the life I’d expected to have. Those feelings didn’t disappear just because I’d made it through a difficult day, and I didn’t have to pretend they had.
The next morning, I arrived at work early and opened my email. There was a new message from Daniel.
May you like
I read the subject line once, then opened it.
He was asking me to meet him away from the office.
