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I'm seated on the couch, my gaze locked onto my phone's screen. The message I've been waiting for from Miller's father still hasn't come in, and my heart races with desperate anticipation. I place my phone down on the table, exhaling a heavy sigh. Standing up, I pace the room, frustration bubbling inside me. Waiting has worn me down; I'm determined to put an end to Aurelie once and for all.
Maya strides into the living room, dropping her purse onto the table with an audible sigh. She takes a seat on the couch and fixes her gaze on me. I can feel the tension in the room; my roommate isn't thrilled about the situation, and I can't blame her.
"Do you know if Alexander has said anything?" she inquires.
"I've reached out to him," I confirm, my eyes scanning my phone. "Still waiting to hear from Miller's father."
She nods. "Have you considered exploring other job options?"
I sigh, my shoulders tense. "Honestly, Maya, I haven't even had a moment to think about it."
A frown creases Maya's brow. "Not a moment to think about it?"
"Yes," I state, "I want Alexander to reclaim Sterling's Gallery."
Maya's head shakes in disapproval. "You're not even considering your future."
I nervously bite my lip. "I am, Maya, I really am."
She raises an eyebrow, challenging me. "Are you? What if Alexander can't reinstate your job once he's CEO again? Have you thought about that?"
I pause, then ask, "You don't like him, do you?"
Maya remains silent, her actions speaking louder than words. She rises from her seat, grabs her purse, and retrieves her phone. With a sense of unease, I watch as she scrolls through her applications, leaving me in suspense, waiting for answers that may never come.
I clear my throat, breaking the tension. "It's almost refreshing that you're not firing back."
Maya lowers her phone, her expression showing concern. "I'm just genuinely concerned, Emma."
Leaning in closer, I ask that's been on my mind, "Maya, what is it about Alexander that you don't like?"
Maya's urge to check her phone is clear. Her hand hovers over it for a moment, but she decides against it. She sucks on the inside of her cheek, takes a deep breath in and out, and carefully tucks her phone away. Her full attention is now fixed on me.
"I just don't trust him," she declares. "Ever since you met him, it's like he's got you completely under his spell."
I tilt my head in confusion. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, you're even delaying your future for him."
I defend my position, saying, "He deserves to have the gallery back. It's not fair that it was taken away from him."
