The CEO's Match

Determination and Desperation

I found a spot on the stairs just down the hall from Nova's apartment. The metal steps felt cold against my back, but I leaned against the wall, pulling out my phone to sort through emails and manage work as best as I could. The hours passed slowly, and with every tick of the clock, I felt the gnawing hunger and thirst more acutely.

My blazer became a makeshift blanket, draped over me as I tried to stay warm. The stairwell was dimly lit, and the quiet hum of the building's ventilation was my only companion. I was committed to showing Nova that I was genuinely sorry and willing to make amends. It felt like a small penance for the larger mistakes I had made.

Each day, I worked tirelessly on my phone, answering emails, managing tasks, and making decisions remotely. The work was endless, but it was a distraction from my growing physical discomfort. I was starved, my stomach growling persistently, and my throat felt parched, but I ignored these basic needs in favor of staying focused on the task at hand.

As the days wore on, I'd occasionally hear sounds from inside Nova's apartment, but I didn't dare approach or interrupt. I needed her to know that I wasn't just trying to fix things from a distance-I was here, physically present and willing to endure discomfort if that's what it took to show my commitment.

At night, I'd fall asleep against the steps, my exhaustion overtaking me. I'd wake up shivering and disoriented, but the drive to make things right kept me going. I was resolved to show her that my regret was more than just words; it was actions, however uncomfortable.

On the third day, my body began to betray me. My energy was dwindling, and my focus was becoming blurry. I was barely keeping up with the work on my phone, but I refused to give up. Each time I glanced at the door to her apartment, I hoped that she would see my dedication and reconsider.

By the end of the third night, I was barely able to keep my eyes open. My limbs felt heavy, and my head was pounding. I was on the brink of collapse but continued to clutch my phone, trying to complete one last task before surrendering to sleep.

As the early morning light began to filter into the stairwell, I heard the sound of a door opening. My heart skipped a beat, and I squinted toward the sound, hoping it was Nova.

Through half-closed eyes, I saw a figure approaching. It was her. Nova walked toward me, her expression a mixture of surprise and concern. She stopped, her gaze softening as she took in my disheveled appearance.

"What are you doing?" she asked, her voice tinged with a mix of frustration and worry.

I struggled to sit up, my body protesting. "I'm here to show you that I'm serious about making things right," I said, my voice hoarse. "I've been waiting for you to give me a chance."

Nova's eyes flickered with a range of emotions as she took in my condition. She moved closer, kneeling beside me and offering me a bottle of water she had in her hand.

"You're insane," she said, her tone softening as she handed me the water. "You didn't have to go this far."

I accepted the bottle gratefully, drinking deeply. "I know it's not the best way to show it, but I needed to do something to prove I'm committed to fixing this."

She looked at me, her expression conflicted. "You really need to take better care of yourself. You've made your point. I'm not sure where we go from here, but you need to stop this. Get some rest."

I nodded, feeling a mix of relief and continued frustration. "Thank you for coming out. I'll leave soon, but please know that I'm here to make amends. Whenever you're ready."

Nova's gaze softened further. She stood up and started to head back to her apartment. "I'll think about it," she said over her shoulder. "Just... don't make this a habit."

As she disappeared back into her apartment, I felt a sense of both accomplishment and continued uncertainty. I had made my intentions clear, but the path to forgiveness and reconciliation was still uncertain. For now, I would heed her advice and take care of myself, hoping that my actions would eventually lead to a resolution.

Nova's pov

Every day since Alexander's unexpected visit, I'd seen him from a distance-on the steps, working tirelessly, barely taking breaks. His presence was a constant reminder of the unresolved tension between us. I tried to stay out of sight, maintaining a silent vigil from my apartment, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore the toll his dedication was taking on him.

By the third day, it had reached a point where it was almost absurd. He looked as though he were on the brink of collapse. The cold of the apartment hallway seemed to have seeped into his bones, and he wore only a suit-minus the blazer he'd used as a makeshift blanket. He must have been freezing, starving, and exhausted. Yet, he stayed there, working on his phone and barely moving.

I went back to my apartment after my brief encounter with him, a bottle of water in hand. I found myself thinking about his dedication. Despite the intense anger I still felt towards him for firing me, I couldn't help but admire his perseverance. He was clearly suffering, yet he refused to leave or get help.

I moved to my window and watched as he finally left for his car. The sight of him walking away, looking worn and defeated, made me smirk slightly. I wanted him to regret his decision, to feel the weight of his mistake. My new job was dull by comparison. The environment was stifling, the warnings for my playful behavior a stark contrast to the freedom I had enjoyed while working for Alexander. The job was less fulfilling, and I missed the dynamic I had with him-his tolerance for my sarcasm, the banter that had once been a regular part of my workday.

I flopped onto my couch, feeling the exhaustion of the past few days weigh heavily on me. I couldn't shake the internal conflict: whether to forgive Alexander, or if I even wanted to. The idea of going back to work with him stirred mixed emotions. The job had been challenging but rewarding, and his management style, though tough, had allowed me a degree of freedom I hadn't experienced elsewhere.

My new job was less accommodating of my personality. The playful jokes that had once been part of my routine now earned me reprimands. It was a stark contrast to the environment I'd left behind. Alexander's company was more comfortable in many ways, and the perks had been significant.

But the question remained: could I truly forgive him for firing me? Could I return to a place where the pain of the past was still fresh, even if the work was better? I was caught between resentment and a longing for the comfort I had once known. The choice was complicated, and the decision weighed heavily on me.

I stared at the ceiling, lost in thought. Alexander had made his mistakes, but he was also showing a level of commitment that was hard to ignore. Whether that was enough to mend the rift between us remained uncertain. For now, I needed to make a choice that balanced my need for personal satisfaction and professional fulfillment against the bitterness of betrayal.

As I pondered these thoughts, I realized I needed more time to decide. Forgiveness wasn't something that could be rushed, nor was returning to a place where I had been so deeply hurt. But as I watched him from my window, a small part of me wondered if there was a way to reconcile the past with the possibilities of the future.