Epiphany

16:

-Hadia - 

"Hadia?"

I froze, my heart dropping to the floor. Slowly, I turned around, and there she was. Naya. Her expression was one of surprise, but there was something else there, too. Pity. "I... I didn't mean to intrude," she said, her voice soft.

I wiped at my eyes quickly, trying to compose myself. "It's fine," I said, my voice shaky but firm. "Just... something personal." She hesitated as if debating whether to say something more. But then she stepped closer, her gaze searching mine.

"You care about him, don't you?" she said quietly, her words cutting through the air like a blade. I felt like the ground had been pulled out from under me. "What?" I said, my voice barely a whisper.

"It's okay," she said, her tone almost gentle. "I can see it. The way you look at him. The way you try to hide it. But... you should know that he and I..." Her words hung in the air, unfinished, but the meaning was clear.

I straightened, my chest tightening as I forced myself to meet her gaze. "You don't have to worry about me," I said, my voice steady despite the tremble in my hands. "Mr. Mustafa and I are strictly professional. There's nothing more to it."

She studied me for a moment longer, then nodded, as if satisfied with my answer. "Good," she said simply before turning and walking away.

As soon as the door closed behind her, I sank into a chair, my head in my hands. I felt raw, exposed, like every defense I'd built around myself had been stripped away. And the worst part was, I wasn't even sure who I was trying to convince—her, or myself.

After Naya left, I stayed in the break room for a while, trying to piece myself back together. The tension in my chest refused to vanish, but I couldn't let anyone else see me like this. The last thing I needed was for this to become office gossip.

I splashed cold water on my face and took a few deep breaths before returning to my desk. I thought I'd find some form of distraction in my work, but the weight of Naya's words kept pressing down on me.

You care about him, don't you?

I hated how those words lingered, taunting me as if she'd reached into the part of my heart I refused to acknowledge.

The office had quieted down by the time Mustafa returned. His sharp footsteps echoed down the hallway, a sound that usually filled me with a sense of purpose but now only set my nerves on edge. He walked past my desk without so much as a glance, his expression stern and unreadable.

Good. I didn't want to deal with him right now. But of course, fate wasn't about to let me off that easy.

"Ms. Hadia," his voice called out, crisp and commanding. I looked up, startled, and saw him standing by his office door. "Come in for a moment," he said, then disappeared inside without waiting for a response.

I sighed, pushing my chair back and following him in. I was determined to keep my composure, no matter what. His office was as intimidating as ever, all clean lines and muted colors, a reflection of the man himself. He was already seated behind his desk, typing away on his laptop when I entered.

"You needed something, Mr. Mustafa?" I asked, my tone carefully professional. He didn't look up right away, his fingers flying across the keyboard. Finally, he closed the laptop and leaned back in his chair, fixing me with a look that was equal parts curious and calculating.

"I've been noticing a... drop in your focus lately," he said, his tone blunt. "Is everything alright?" For a moment, I was too stunned to respond. He was asking about my focus? After everything that had happened today?

"I'm fine," I said quickly. "Just a little tired, that's all." He raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "Tired," he repeated. "This isn't professional, is it Ms. Hadia? This is not the time for distractions."

The irony of his words made me want to laugh—or scream. He was the one who'd been distracted all day, whose personal life was splashed across every news outlet, and yet here he was, lecturing me about focus.

"I understand," I said tightly. "It won't happen again." He studied me for a moment longer, his gaze searching. For what, I wasn't sure, but it made my skin crawl.

"Good," he said finally. "You can go." I turned to leave, but just as I reached the door, his voice stopped me.

"Hadia." I froze, my hand on the doorknob. "Yes?"

There was a pause, heavy and charged, before he spoke again. "Naya said she spoke with you earlier," he said, his tone measured. "What did she say?"

I turned back to face him, forcing my expression to remain neutral. "Nothing important," I said. "She just introduced herself." He nodded slowly, but there was something in his eyes that suggested he didn't quite believe me.

"Alright," he said. "That's all." This time, I didn't hesitate. I walked out of his office and closed the door behind me, my heart pounding in my chest.

Back at my desk, I tried to focus on the tasks in front of me, but my thoughts were a tangled mess. The way he'd looked at me just now, the tension in his voice... it didn't make sense. Why would he care what Naya and I talked about?

The rest of the day dragged on, and by the time I left the office, I was emotionally drained. I needed to get out of my own head to distract myself from everything that had happened.

Sofia's words echoed in my mind as I walked home. "If they left you, you should leave them too."

She was right. Mustafa had made his choice. He'd chosen Naya, and whatever I was feeling, it didn't matter. It couldn't matter. But as much as I tried to convince myself of that, I couldn't shake the hollow ache in my chest.

As I walked through the rain, I talked to myself, "If he really needed to get married, why not get married to Naya in the first place?" I asked myself, walking towards my apartment. "Whatever, it's only six months now. After this, I can focus on work." I told myself.

That evening, as I sat in my small apartment, I replayed the day's events over and over in my mind. The way Naya had looked at me, the way Mustafa had spoken to me, the way my own emotions had betrayed me at every turn.

I told myself I was done. Done caring, done feeling. I had a year to get through this contract marriage, and then I could walk away with my head held high.

But deep down, I knew it wasn't that simple.

Because no matter how much I tried to convince myself otherwise, a part of me had already started to care. And that part of me was terrified of what would happen next.