“Nice to meet you!” I forced a smile, shaking her hand. The awkwardness of the moment hung heavy in the air.
“Thank you for your hard work, Tyra!” Helena’s voice was warm, but I couldn't shake the feeling that her smile was a little too bright, a little too forced.
“Let her do her work.” Daryl’s voice was a low rumble beside me, and I felt a jolt of surprise. He was already there, his gaze fixed on Helena. His presence, unexpected and unwelcome, amplified the tension in the room.
“Yeah, I will leave now.” The words felt hollow, my smile fading as I turned towards the door. I couldn't help but feel a pang of frustration. I was supposed to be focused on my work, not caught in this awkward dance of forced pleasantries and unspoken tension.
Helena’s laughter echoed through the hallway, a mocking reminder of my presence in Daryl’s office. I tried to bury myself in work, but her laughter, coupled with Daryl’s earlier behavior, gnawed at my mind. Why was he acting so…flirtatious? Did he not care that he had a girlfriend? Was he playing with me? The thought twisted in my stomach, a bitter cocktail of anger and hurt.
 
Time seemed to crawl by, each tick of the clock amplifying the unsettling emotions swirling within me. Then, the door swung open, and Helena emerged, her smile bright and carefree. Her presence was a stark contrast to the storm raging inside me. She caught my eye and waved, her gesture seemingly oblivious to the turmoil I was battling.
“Bye!” she mouthed, a playful twinkle in her eyes as she turned to leave. I returned her smile, a flicker of warmth momentarily dispelling the lingering unease.
 
I watched her walk away, her light steps echoing in the quiet hallway. The sight of her retreating figure, a vision of effortless grace, was a sharp contrast to the turbulent emotions churning within me. I forced myself to turn back to my work, the unfinished tasks a welcome distraction from the tangled web of thoughts swirling in my mind.
 
Just as I was settling into my work, the intercom crackled to life, Daryl’s voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down my spine.
It was a habit, ingrained by professional courtesy, to knock before entering. Even now, with Daryl's curt invitation, the ingrained gesture felt automatic. My hand reached for the door handle, a familiar ritual before stepping into his office. The words "come in" echoed in my mind, a silent command I couldn't ignore.
“Yes, sir?” My voice was a carefully modulated tone, a practiced formality that felt more like a shield than a true reflection of my feelings.
“Thank you for this!” He held up the box of pastries, a small smile playing on his lips. The gesture, seemingly innocuous, felt charged with unspoken meaning.
“It’s part of my job, sir. Do you want me to reheat your tea?” I offered, my voice betraying a hint of uncertainty. His gaze, intense and unwavering, held me captive, a silent question hanging in the air.
His gaze, a tangible weight, pressed against my skin, making me acutely aware of my own awkward posture. I couldn't meet his eyes, the intensity of their scrutiny burning into my composure. The heat of his stare, a physical sensation, threatened to unravel the carefully constructed facade I had built around myself. I forced my gaze to the floor, desperately seeking refuge from the storm brewing within me. Deep breaths, shallow and rapid, were my only defense against the onslaught of emotions threatening to overwhelm me.
“I already finished the tea.” His voice was flat, devoid of any warmth or inflection. I nodded, my throat suddenly dry.
“What do you want me to do then?” The question hung in the air, a desperate attempt to break the silence, to fill the void of unspoken tension. My mind raced, a whirlwind of questions swirling within me.
“Arrange a meeting for all the heads of the department. Make sure that it will not go against my schedule.” His words were a command, delivered with an air of authority that left no room for debate. The instructions were clear, leaving no room for ambiguity. I understood.
I retreated to my desk, the weight of his gaze still lingering on my shoulders. My fingers flew across the iPad, navigating his schedule with a practiced efficiency. My eyes fell upon the weekend, a stark reminder of his dinner date with Helena. A wave of nausea washed over me, and I shook my head, trying to banish the unwelcome thoughts.
 
My gaze scanned the calendar, searching for a free slot. Finally, I found it, a sliver of time where his schedule was clear. With a sigh of relief, I drafted an email, the words flowing effortlessly, a welcome distraction from the turmoil within. The back-and-forth, the endless dance of requests and confirmations, was exhausting. I needed to move forward, to get this meeting scheduled and put this unsettling encounter behind me.
“Ask me personally, Tyra!” His voice, a low growl, echoed through the office, startling me from my concentration. A jolt of adrenaline shot through me, my fingers instinctively tightening around the iPad. I took a deep breath, trying to regain my composure, before following his command.
I entered his office, the air thick with the scent of old paper. He was hunched over his desk, a mountain of paperwork obscuring his face. His brow was furrowed in concentration, his pen moving with a determined rhythm across the page. The scene, a tableau of focused intensity, offered a stark contrast to the unsettling encounter we had just shared.
“I sent you the proposed date, sir.” My voice was a quiet murmur, a stark contrast to the silence that had settled in the room. He nodded, his gaze still fixed on the paperwork, a fortress of concentration.
“Yeah, I’m free on that date.” His response was clipped, devoid of any emotion, as if the meeting was just another entry on his already packed schedule.
“I will just email the heads of department about the meeting.” I offered, my voice betraying a hint of eagerness, a desperate attempt to break the silence and move forward. He nodded again, a brief acknowledgment that felt more like a dismissal than a confirmation.
Is he playing with me? He saw my email, so why did he call me here? The thought gnawed at me, a bitter cocktail of frustration and confusion.
 
“I will go now, sir!” My voice was a forced chirp, a desperate attempt to mask the turmoil brewing inside. He didn't respond, his gaze still fixed on the paperwork.
“Weird!” I muttered under my breath, a single word that encapsulated the unsettling encounter. I turned and left his office, the weight of his silence pressing down on me.
 
The rest of the afternoon dragged by, each tick of the clock amplifying the unease that had settled within me. I finally packed up my things, my mind still replaying the events of the day. A sense of duty, a lingering hope for some semblance of closure, propelled me towards Daryl's office. I needed to say goodbye, to leave with some sense of finality, even if it meant facing the awkward silence once more.
My hand hesitated on the door handle, a flicker of doubt crossing my mind. I knocked, then pushed the door open, my heart pounding in my chest. Daryl's gaze met mine, a silent question hanging in the air. I lingered in the doorway, hesitant to step inside.
 
“I'm going now, sir!” My voice was a whisper, barely audible above the pounding of my own heart. He studied me for a moment, his expression unreadable.
“Wait for me!” His voice was a low rumble, laced with a hint of urgency. He rose from his chair, his movements swift and decisive.
 
What now? My mind raced, a whirlwind of questions and uncertainties. I waited outside his office, my body tense, my senses on high alert. My phone buzzed, a message from Joana, a simple address, the location of our destination. A party. A distraction. But what about Daryl? What was he up to?
The door slid open, revealing Daryl there. He looked at me, a slight smirk playing on his lips, and gestured towards the elevator.
 
“Let’s go!” His voice was a low murmur, filled with a subtle energy that sent a shiver down my spine. We stepped inside, and I pressed the button for the ground floor, my silence a reflection of the swirling thoughts in my mind.
“Do you have plans tonight?” His question, seemingly casual, caught me off guard. I met his gaze, a fleeting connection that sparked a wave of confusion and unease.
“Yes, sir!” My voice was a strained whisper, my gaze quickly returning to the elevator floor.
“Can I butt in?” His question, a playful challenge, startled me. I felt a surge of adrenaline, my heart pounding in my chest.
“You have a family dinner tonight, sir!” The words tumbled out of my mouth, a reminder of his schedule that I had somehow managed to forget.
“Oh, crap! I forgot!” He muttered, shaking his head in frustration. The realization seemed to wash over him, a wave of guilt and disappointment.
The elevator doors opened, revealing the familiar expanse of the lobby. I stepped out, my gaze drawn to the sleek black SUV parked at the curb. Daryl followed close behind, his presence a palpable force even in the bustling lobby.
 
“Drive safely!” His words were a parting instruction, a subtle reminder of his authority, even as he turned towards his own car.
“Thank you, sir!” I replied, my voice a hushed murmur. I slid into the driver’s seat, the leather cool against my skin. The engine purred to life, a comforting hum that momentarily drowned out the swirling thoughts in my mind. I fastened my seatbelt, my gaze fixed on the road ahead. 
The club, a beacon of excitement and distraction, but a sudden buzz from my phone shattered the fleeting sense of calm. It was my mom, her voice a familiar anchor in the whirlwind of my day.
“Yes, Mommy?” My voice was a soft murmur, a stark contrast to the symphony of honking horns and city noise that surrounded me.
“How are you, honey? Did you have a great day?” Her voice, warm and familiar, was a soothing balm to the anxieties that had plagued me all day. I smiled, the gesture a fleeting flicker of genuine happiness in the midst of the chaos.
“I got a new car!” The words tumbled out of my mouth, a burst of excitement that surprised even me. I could hear her laughter on the other end, a sound that filled me with a sense of warmth and belonging.
“You can buy it for yourself, though.” Her words were a gentle reminder of my independence, a subtle nudge towards a life of self-reliance.  
“Well, my company gave this to me.” I explained. Her laughter, a lighthearted melody, filled the silence, a comforting reassurance that everything was alright.
“I guess you have a good workplace.” Her words were a veiled inquiry, a subtle attempt to understand the dynamics of my professional life. Daryl's face flashed in my mind, a jarring reminder of the unsettling encounter I had just endured.
“I just can't predict my boss.” My answer was a vague confession, a carefully worded response that avoided any mention of the tension and uncertainty that had become a constant in my life. Silence fell on the other end, a pregnant pause that spoke volumes.
“I hope he will not give you a hard time.” Her voice, laced with concern, was a testament to the unwavering love and support that she had always provided. I could hear my father's voice in the background, a familiar rumble that brought a wave of comfort.
“Is that Tyra?” His question, a simple inquiry, was a reminder of the deep bond we shared, a connection that transcended distance and time.
“How are you, honey?” His voice, filled with warmth and affection, was a soothing balm to my troubled soul. I knew they were still worried about me, their love a constant beacon in the storm.
“I'm fine, Dad! Thank you for asking.” My voice was a strained whisper, a desperate attempt to reassure them that everything was alright.  
The club, a brightly lit oasis in the urban jungle, loomed ahead, a promise of temporary escape from the complexities of my life.
I turned away from the phone, a lingering warmth from my parents' voices still radiating through me. A wave of relief washed over me, a fleeting sense of normalcy in the midst of the chaos. I stepped out of the SUV, the air thick with the scent of exhaust fumes and the promise of a night out.
 
“I love you, Mom!” My voice was a strained whisper, a desperate attempt to mask the tension building within me. I turned towards the club.
“Tyra! Over here!” Joana's voice, a familiar melody, cut through the noise, drawing me towards her.  
Tyler was beside her, a mischievous grin plastered on his face.
 
“I already ordered our drinks.” His words were a casual announcement. I returned his grin with a smirk, a subtle acknowledgment of his efforts.
“I’m not drinking tonight. I’m not really into liquor right now.” My voice was a quiet declaration, a statement of intent that surprised even me. Their expressions shifted, a mixture of confusion and amusement replacing their initial smiles.
“It’s new to us that you’re not drinking.” Joana’s words were a playful jab, a lighthearted attempt to break the tension. I glared at her, my expression a mix of annoyance and a subtle hint of defiance.
I sipped my cucumber juice, the cool, refreshing taste a stark contrast to the potent aroma of vodka and beer that permeated the air. The music pulsed through the room, a relentless rhythm that urged us to move. We danced, our bodies swaying in unison, a temporary escape from the weight of the world. Then, Tyler's phone rang, the shrill sound a jarring intrusion into the intoxicating rhythm.
 
“It’s Laxus,” he announced, his voice a casual murmur that sent a jolt of electricity through me.  
Weeks had passed since I had heard that name, a name that had once held such significance in my life. My heart pounded in my chest, a frantic drumbeat that echoed the turmoil within me. The familiar ache of longing, a bittersweet melody that I had tried so hard to silence, surged through me. I missed him.  
The thought, a whispered confession, echoed in the recesses of my mind, a testament to the enduring power of a love that had been lost.