Unexpected But Mine

chapter 13

The sleek glass doors of Shaheer’s office building reflected the morning sun. Emira stepped out of the car, clutching her bag, her nerves masked behind her calm expression. Shaheer walked beside her, quietly matching her pace. He didn’t say much—just glanced sideways once as the wind tugged her dupatta, and gently reached to fix it on her shoulder.
Inside, the receptionist greeted them with a polite nod—slightly more curious today. Emira kept close, and they took the elevator up.

His cabin was spacious, but not cold. Warm neutral tones, sunlight spilling across the hardwood, a neat desk facing a city view.

Across from it, a separate smaller desk with a nameplate freshly added: Emira Shaheer, Executive Assistant.
Shaheer walked over to his seat and gestured toward the one near him. “That’s yours,” he said softly.

Emira stepped toward it, touching the surface like it might vanish. Her brows arched slightly. “You really meant I’d sit in your cabin.

“I don’t make casual statements,” he replied, only half teasing.
She gave him a side glance, a small smile hiding in it.

Shaheer pulled out a thin file and a notebook, setting it on her desk. “For now, we’ll keep it simple. You’ll help manage my calendar, coordinate meetings, and handle internal emails that come to my direct line. Hamis will walk you through the employee structure and client list.”

As if on cue, a knock sounded—and Hamis entered with his usual charm. “Morning, boss. Morning, boss’s boss,” he winked at Emira, earning a tired sigh from Shaheer.

“Her title’s PA, not Queen Regent.”
Hamis grinned.
“Potato, potahto.”
Shaheer ignored the banter.

“Take her through the first-level brief. We’ll head into the client meeting in thirty minutes.”

Hamis gave Emira a polite bow. “Welcome to the madness. Let’s get you settled.”

—Later – Conference Room
The long polished table was already half-occupied when they entered. Shaheer’s presence commanded attention, but today, Emira walked in behind him—not hidden, not nervous, just observant. Shaheer introduced her briefly, calmly

“This is Emira. She’ll be assisting on all project timelines going forward.”

She nodded in greeting, hands clasped gently, posture composed.

Hamis caught her eye and gave a subtle thumbs-up from across the room.
Shaheer, meanwhile, switched easily into work mode—efficient, commanding, but never harsh. As he spoke, he occasionally turned a document her way, explained a figure, or tapped something lightly for her to note.

She scribbled quickly, quietly—her handwriting neat, her concentration sharp.

And once, when she got lost between tabs on the tablet, he leaned in, quietly shifted the screen back, and whispered, “This one,” without making her feel awkward.

By the end of the meeting, she hadn’t spoken much—but she’d listened, absorbed, and Shaheer noticed that. As they walked back to his office, he glanced at her notes.
“You’re better at this than you think.”

Her brows rose. “You barely saw me do anything.”

He looked over at her with that same familiar half-smile. “That’s where you’re wrong.”

Shaheer, Emira, and Hamis sat at a table near the windows, where sunlight spilled across the floor in golden patches. A light breeze hummed through the tilted window panels, softening the afternoon air.

Hamis opened his lunch box like it was a grand reveal. “Today’s special—burnt paratha and confused curry. Made by your truly annoyed wife.”

Shaheer raised an eyebrow. “You could try not annoying her before breakfast.”