Ashes of an Impossible Love

Sushi Night

After having worked intensively on the changes proposed at the meeting, I decide to go to Nichola's office for advice. I know he has a lot more experience than me, and maybe there's something I'm not seeing. I knock on the door gently, and he opens it for me himself, holding the phone in one hand as he walks up and down the office. I get it; after so many hours of sitting, any excuse is good to stretch your legs. He winks at me with complicity and gestures for me to sit on the sofa.

Nicholas has a set of sofas upholstered in a dark blue velvet, elegant and cozy. I settle into the biggest armchair, adjusting my papers while I watch him. His office is impeccable, a reflection of his refined taste. The colors oscillate between blue and gray, creating a serene but sophisticated atmosphere. To one side, a shelf full of vinyls rests next to a record player, and on the glass table nearby, a glass whiskey bottle and two matching glasses glisten in the dim light. His desk, also made of glass, is decorated with details of basketball, his passion, and some old-style paintings that add a touch of history to the place.

He ends the call and drops into the armchair next to me, visibly exhausted.

— What brings you to my cave, Chloe? — he asks with a serious tone, but his facade cracks and we both burst out laughing.

— I wanted your opinion about the project. It's almost finished — I say, waiting for his reaction. He looks at me with surprise, although I don't know if it's because I'm asking for his opinion or because he didn't expect the project to be so advanced.

He immerses himself in the documents while I, nervously, wait next to him. The tension overcomes me and I end up getting up to walk a little. After a few minutes, he slams the folder shut and puts it down hard on the table. My heart sinks, fearing the worst. My face must reflect that concern, because Nicholasstares at me before pronouncing:

— Excellent.

Relief runs through my body, although the restlessness does not dissipate completely. There's something about his reaction that left me on edge.

— Chloe, I told you it's excellent! Change that face! — he says laughing, noticing my confusion. — You look like you've seen a ghost.

I realize it and a huge smile lights up my face. The tension dissipates instantly.

— You think you're really funny, huh? — I answer, sitting back down in the armchair, this time more relaxed. Nicholas throws me a mischievous smile, and soon we are both laughing. We have a very similar mood dominated by sarcasm.

— I've never doubted you for a moment. I knew you were the perfect person to lead this project. I am very proud of you — he says, while his hand rests gently on my leg, close to the knee. A gesture that makes me shudder, remembering Sarah's words about Nichola's feelings. Are these signs? I find it hard to believe.

— Thank you, Nicholas. — I reply, trying to keep my composure.

— You'll do great at next week's presentation to the management — he adds, his tone charged with confidence.

The knot in my stomach is coming back hard. The presentation is crucial; it could be the springboard I need or the blow that collapses everything I've worked for.

— Thank you, Nicholas, for your time — I say as I get up, ready to leave. — By the way, who were you talking to? Is everything all right?

Nicholas hesitates for a moment, his expression hardens before he finally tells me:

— Everything's fine, don't worry. Family dramas, but I'm not going to drown you in those sorrows. I'll tell you about it sometime.

— Okay. Thanks again. — I reply, realizing that he also carries his own problems, as reserved as ever, keeping his emotions under lock and key. I know he'll tell me when he's ready, and he knows I'll be there when he needs me.