Chapter 7: Returning by Choice
I waited until the afternoon before I asked Aiden for the assignment details.
The schedule had arrived in my inbox, along with a one-page outline of the work. I read both twice at my desk. The visit was planned for the next morning. I would verify the outstanding paperwork, explain the revised follow-up steps, and send a summary of anything that still needed attention. Aiden would lead the review. My work would be reported to him and the operations team.
Nothing in the documents mentioned Daniel.
That didn’t mean he wouldn’t be there.
I opened the assignment outline again, though I already knew what it said. My name appeared beside the verification and summary tasks. The penciled note from Aiden’s calendar had become a proposed assignment on a page, and now it waited for my answer.
I could decline. Aiden had made that clear.
I could also go.
Neither choice would change what Daniel had done or what he might want now. But one choice would let me do work I was qualified to do.
I took the papers to Aiden’s office.
He looked up from his screen.
“Did you have a chance to review everything?”
“Yes. I have a few questions.”
“Go ahead.”
I sat across from him and set the schedule between us.
“How often would I be expected to travel if I take on this kind of work?”
“We haven’t set a regular schedule,” he said. “This visit is a specific assignment, not a promise that you’ll travel every week. If the operations-support review continues, we’ll discuss travel requirements before anything changes.”
“And I report to you on this assignment?”
“For this visit, yes. You’ll also share the completed summary with the operations team, as outlined here.”
I nodded and tapped the page.
“Is there any expectation that I meet with Daniel?”
“No. The purpose is the paperwork and the revised process. He isn’t part of your assignment.”
The tightness in my chest eased a little. Not enough to disappear, but enough for me to take a full breath.
“If he tries to talk to me about something personal?”
“You can end the conversation and return to the work area. If you want me nearby as a witness, tell me. I won’t speak for you.”
I studied his face, checking for the pressure hidden inside an offer of help. I didn’t find any. He had laid out what he could do and left the decision with me.
“And if I decide not to go?”
“Then you don’t go. It won’t affect the work review or your standing here.”
I looked down at the schedule. The branch was still the branch. Daniel would still be there, or he might not. I couldn’t control either fact. I could control why I went and what I agreed to.
“I want to do the assignment,” I said. “The paperwork and the follow-up steps. I’m not agreeing to any personal conversation.”
“Understood.”
“Can you add that the visit is limited to those duties?”
“I can make the purpose explicit.”
He opened the document and added a line. I read the revised copy before I agreed.
It was a small thing, asking for the words to be clear. But clear words left less room for someone else to decide what I meant.
“Thank you,” I said.
“You’re welcome.”
I signed the assignment confirmation, not the role review. The longer-term position was still something to consider once I had the schedule and reporting structure. A single trip was not a permanent decision.
When I returned to my desk, I sent Aiden a short email confirming that I had accepted the branch assignment. I listed the duties I understood and asked him to correct me if I had missed anything. Then I checked my materials: the current paperwork list, the revised follow-up steps, and the summary template.
At home, my aunty noticed the folder I had brought with me.
“You’re going back to the branch?” she asked.
“Yes. For work.”
She waited, giving me room to say more if I wanted.
“I’m not going because of Daniel,” I added. “I’m going because I know how to do the assignment.”
“I’m glad you know the difference.”
“So am I.”
The next morning, I went with Aiden to the branch.
During the drive, we reviewed the work plan. He asked whether I had the latest copy of the paperwork list. I showed it to him, and he checked that we were using the same version.
The conversation stayed on the assignment.
When we arrived, a few employees greeted Aiden and asked about the review. One of them glanced at me, then looked away quickly. Another gave me a polite smile that seemed to say she knew who I was, or thought she did.
I kept my attention on my folder.
Aiden introduced me as the person handling the paperwork verification and revised follow-up summary. He didn’t explain my personal history, and I didn’t offer it. I was there to work.
We set up in a shared meeting area and began with the records. I checked each form against the tracking list. Seventeen had been completed. One still awaited a signature. I confirmed which items matched the current records and marked the remaining question for follow-up rather than guessing.
A branch employee leaned over the page.
“You caught the difference between the old list and the new one.”
“It was in the updated copy,” I said. “The earlier version still had the previous steps.”
She nodded.
“That could have confused people.”
“That’s why I noted which version we’re using.”
Aiden reviewed the summary with me. He asked one question about the pending signature, and I showed him where I had marked it as outstanding. He approved the wording, and I sent the corrected summary to the follow-up team.
The work gave me something solid to focus on: a form, a number, a question with an answer—or a question that needed to remain open until someone could confirm it.
When the review ended, the branch employees gathered their papers and moved back to their desks. Aiden stayed to speak with one of the managers about the follow-up schedule. I closed my folder and checked that I had saved the final copy.
That was when I noticed the room had gone quieter.
I looked up.
Daniel was standing a short distance away.
For one second, the branch blurred into shapes and voices. My body remembered the past before my mind could remind it that I was at work, that I had come here by choice, and that the meeting was over.
Daniel’s gaze moved from my folder to my face.
I didn’t step toward him.
He didn’t come closer right away. The employees nearby seemed busy, but their attention kept drifting in our direction. I felt their awareness like a second conversation happening around us.
Aiden finished speaking and glanced over. He didn’t move between us. He didn’t answer for me. He had promised to remain nearby if I wanted a witness, and he waited for me to decide.
I placed the folder on the table.
Daniel took one careful step closer, stopping far enough away that I could leave without passing him.
“Hira,” he said.
I kept my voice level.
“I’m here for work.”
“I know.”
“Then keep it about work.”
His expression shifted, but he didn’t argue. He looked toward the employees at their desks, then back at me.
“I won’t ask you to meet me somewhere else.”
I said nothing.
His hands remained at his sides. For a moment, he seemed to be searching for words, and I felt an old impulse rise in me: to smooth the silence, to make the conversation easier for him.
I let the silence stay.
May you like
Daniel looked at me carefully.
“Are you willing to hear what I have to say this time?”
