LOVE TRIALS

iii

"What's this, Miraan?" Amaan Raza asked, eyeing the perfectly laid envelope on his desk as he hung his coat on the hanger.

"Resignation letter, perhaps," Miraan said.

A slick eyebrow rose with suspicion, "Whose exactly?"

"Senora Yara Bellamy," Miraan sounded almost angry.

Miraan was offended, Amaan had forgotten he had threatened to fire her, a few days ago.

"Senora Yaritza Bellamy- Ferrar," Amaan corrected. "She didn't come today, then?"

He had seen it coming. Of course, she'd rather resign than apologize.

"No."

He had been hoping he'd be relieved, he was anything but.

His shoulders felt heavier as he dropped his head in the cradle of his big palms, his elbows set on the desk. His heart burdened as it lay distressed beneath his chest.

Amaan looked at his secretary but he didn't even raise his head for a second.

"Sir Adam will be visiting. Your sister will accompany him," Miraan uttered, interrupting his thoughts. It was then their eyes met, Miraan looked smug witnessing the horror on his boss's face.

"What?" Amaan straightened in his seat.

"Sir Adam-"

Amaan cut him, loosening his tie, "I heard what you said. Why is he coming? When?"

"Day after tomorrow, most probably. Sinan will confirm it latest by the evening. He wanted to see how the restoration is coming along for the inauguration."

Amaan's mouth thinned into a straight line.

"May I suggest something, Sir?"

"Yes," Amaan bit the inside of his cheek.

"Call her in for work, cancel the resignation."

He knew Miraan spoke sense but he was determined not to bring her back, again. He couldn't risk it- risk himself, again. The stakes were too high, he couldn't even begin to make them understand when he could hardly grasp it, himself.

Amaan shook his head and rose from his chair, "No, she resigned. Post an ad for her replacement, immediately. I'll conduct the interviews, tomorrow, myself."

Miraan reminded, "It's Friday. Tomorrow is the weekend."

Amaan belatedly realised he was in deep trouble.

Shit.

"Doesn't matter. Post the ad."

"Where are you going?"

"Concentrate on your work, Miraan."

Amaan found himself walking to the HR offices. Saad, he read the name tag of the man who had been casually reclining in the chair when Amaan strolled into the first cubicle on right unannounced, his hands buried in the pockets of his slacks.

Saad scrambled to his feet.

"Sir."

Amaan gave Saad a few minutes, allowed the man to compose himself.

"Email me Senora Bellamy's postal address." Amaan leaned over the desk a bit. "This stays between us."

Saad gave him a fervent nod.

🎲

Late Saturday night, Miraan's phone rang. It was a text message from Amaan Raza.