Epiphany

15:

- Hadia - 

The office was unusually busy today, with phones ringing nonstop, voices overlapped, and there was this undercurrent of excitement rippling through the air. I couldn't figure out why. Not until Sofia dropped herself into the chair next to mine with an obnoxiously smug grin plastered across her face.

"You missed the big news," she said, leaning in like she couldn't wait to spill the gossip. "Guess who's showing up today?"

I sighed, not in the mood for her theatrics. "Who?" "Naya Ali," she said, her tone dripping with exaggerated awe. "The soon-to-be Mrs. Mustafa Ibrahim."

My stomach sank, but I kept my face carefully blank. I tucked a stray piece of hair under my hijab and pretended to focus on my screen. "Okay. And?"

Sofia gasped dramatically, clutching her chest like I'd just insulted her favorite celebrity. "Hadia, this is huge! She's not just anyone, she's the Naya Ali. The only woman to have something linked to Mustafa Ibrahim. I just know the news channels are having field days hearing this news."

"I don't see why it matters," I said, trying to sound casual. My voice didn't crack, so I took that as a small win. "Oh, come on," Sofia pressed. "You can't tell me you're not the tiniest bit curious to see how she carries herself."

I shrugged. "She's just another visitor. Nothing special." "Visitor?" Sofia gasped, her voice rising an octave. "Visitor? Hadia, she's practically royalty around here now."

Before I could respond or escape, there was a commotion near the office doors. Every head in the room turned as a tall, impossibly poised woman stepped inside. Her ivory pantsuit was tailored to perfection, her glossy hair cascaded in effortless waves, and her walk was more of a statement than a motion. She wasn't just confident. She owned the room the second she stepped into it.

Naya Ali.

I didn't have to guess. The way everyone stared, whispering among themselves, confirmed it.

Mr. Mustafa emerged from his office a moment later, his usual stiff composure intact, though his stride faltered slightly when he reached her. His expression softened, not much, just enough for someone paying attention to notice. And I was paying attention.

"They look like they belong in a movie," Sofia whispered, snapping me out of my trance. "Power couple vibes, you know? Ugh, it's sickeningly perfect."

I didn't reply. My heart was pounding for no reason at all, and I couldn't understand why. Mustafa and Naya exchanged a few words, too quiet for me to catch, but the easy way they spoke, the natural way their gestures mirrored each other, made something cold settle in my chest.

"Hadia," Sofia said, nudging me. "Are you okay?"

"Fine." I muttered, forcing my attention back to my desk. But my hands hovered uselessly over the keyboard. My brain refused to cooperate.

 - 

I reached for my phone, pretending to scroll aimlessly, trying to appear as calm and indifferent as possible. But my heart was hammering against my ribs. From the corner of my eye, I could see Naya looking at me, studying me like I was some kind of puzzle. It was unnerving.

"Miss Hadia, right?" Naya said, breaking the silence. Her voice was smooth, perfectly polite, but there was an undercurrent of curiosity in it that made me feel exposed.

I looked up and forced a smile. "Yes, that's me." "You seem close to Mustafa," she said, tilting her head slightly. "He spoke highly of you. Said you're efficient and dedicated."

Her words caught me off guard, and for a split second, I felt something warm bloom in my chest. Mustafa had said that? But then I remembered the cold, detached way he'd spoken to me earlier, and the warmth disappeared.

"That's kind of him to say," I replied, keeping my tone neutral. "I'm just doing my job." Naya's lips curled into a small smile, but there was something about it that felt, calculated. Like she was testing me. "You must know him well, then," she said lightly. "Working with him every day."

The air between us felt heavier, charged with something unspoken. I knew what she was getting at, or maybe I was just imagining it. Either way, her words made my chest tighten. I shook my head. "Not as well as you, I'm sure."

Her smile faltered for a brief second, and then she laughed, a soft, melodic sound. "Oh, you're sweet. Mustafa and I... well, let's just say we've known each other for a while. He's... different, don't you think? It's always so serious, so focused. But I think I might be the one to change that."

My stomach twisted at her words, but I kept my expression neutral. "He is very focused," I agreed, my voice steady despite the knot in my throat. Naya's gaze lingered on me for a moment, and I could feel the weight of her curiosity. She was trying to figure me out to see if there was something more beneath the surface.

"Well," she said finally, her tone light again, "it's nice to know he has such a reliable assistant. I'm sure he appreciates you." Before I could respond, Mr. Mustafa returned to the room, his presence immediately commanding. He glanced between the two of us, his brow furrowing slightly as if sensing the tension in the air.

"Naya, ready to go?" he asked, his voice clipped. "Of course," she said, flashing him a bright smile. She turned back to me. "It was lovely meeting you, Hadia." "You too," I said, forcing a smile.

As they walked away, I felt a strange mix of relief and... something else. Something I didn't want to name.

But then, just as they were about to leave the office, Naya turned back, her voice carrying across the room. "Oh, by the way," she said, her tone almost casual, "Mustafa and I are planning our engagement party soon. You should come. I'm sure Mustafa will want his team there to celebrate."

My breath caught in my throat, and for a moment, I couldn't speak. I glanced at Mustafa, but his expression was unreadable. "Thank you for the invitation," I managed to say, my voice steady despite the storm raging inside me.

Naya smiled, satisfied, and then they were gone. I stood there for a moment, staring at the empty doorway, my hands clenched into fists at my sides. I felt like the walls were closing in on me, the weight of everything pressing down until I couldn't breathe.

Before I knew it, I was heading toward the break room, my chest tight, and my vision blurry. I needed a moment to pull myself together.

But as soon as I stepped inside, the tears came, hot and uncontrollable. I pressed my palms against the counter, trying to steady myself, but it was no use. The emotions I'd been trying so hard to bury were spilling over, and I couldn't stop them.

I didn't even hear the door open behind me until it was too late.