Accepting You

Chapter Eight

Breathe, Asiya. You're fine.

But Asiya didn't feel fine, and nothing about the words coming out of Gouge's mouth was fine.

Even though Asiya's emotions were sparking and fizzing like fireworks, and her blood was bubbling to the surface of her skin on the outside, Asiya looked fine.

Asiya wasn't overreacting like Gouge had just claimed. She wasn't physically reacting at all.

Asiya hadn't moved since Gouge had broken her personal space and uttered his statement, even though almost every cell inside her was screaming that she do so, and the other cells were carrying the word traitor through her bloodstream as she didn't.

Asiya didn't want to shake this off.

She felt like she couldn't.

Asiya felt like she had walked into a spider's web. Gouge's words, stereotypes, discreet taunts tatted under corporate jargon, and the spit that slipped off his tongue—Asiya could feel all those things all over her, sticking to her.

Asiya didn't want to; she felt like a traitor, like a green snake hiding in grass for doing so, but she wanted to achieve her actual goal, which was why she had attended this meeting in the first place.

Asiya forced air out of her nostrils and leaned back. Gouge had gotten so close to her that Asiya could taste the stale smoke of the cigarette he had had for lunch. 

Asiya held back a gag before speaking. "I don't understand what you mean."

Gouge cocked his head and squinted.

Asiya curled her hands under the table.

Gouge was looking at Asiya like she was a strange, unidentifiable animal in a zoo, as though she was something exotic, and he was trying to mentally resemble her to something else. Something more familiar and 'normal'. Something he knew and could understand.

It wasn't her job to translate for him, and Asiya definitely wasn't going to do that when Gouge had deliberately misunderstood her.

"I don't think I've asked for anything that can't be done. I don't think I'm asking for something the company has said they can't do. In fact, the firm states that it prides itself on inclusivity. On the website, they claim to be one of the few companies that offer concessions to their employees to promote that. So surely, asking for a dedicated prayer room–"

"Yes, yes, yes. I know." Gouge cut through Asiya's sentence and waved his hands. "I get it. Loads of employees have heard about the head's desire to turn the spare office into a dedicated space. Loads of employees and their respective firm societies want that space to be theirs. Turning it into a gym is the current leading position. People are crazy about that! Employees are going crazy, period. You just." Gouge sighed. "Don't need to speak so quickly."

"I know how you guys can get about territory. It's something the mandem are passionate about, right?" Gouge chirped in a poor attempt at a televised South London accent.

"You guys are so passionate about it your fights over it make headlines," Gouge chuckled like a villain from a bootleg sitcom. He looked like one, too. He had thin hair, a sparse beard, and grey hairs sprouted out of his ears like he had been electrocuted.

Asiya's eyes nearly popped out of her socket.

No. Way.

Asiya could feel her brows wringing together as her breath became shallow and the blood charging through her veins became louder.

Is he referring to turf wars?

That topic had no relevance to the purpose of their meeting and was of no relevance to Asiya.