Downstairs, Zafir's expression turned grave. "Aisha… we've found Nuha's father."
Aisha froze, her heart skipping a beat. "Found him?"
Zafir handed her some photographs. Her breath caught. The body looked lifeless, battered. She forced herself to hold back tears, whispering, "Subhanallah…"
Though he had abandoned her years ago, she still loved him. And yet, there was nothing she could do.
Nawal, sensing the tension, dragged Danish away. "Go. Adults are talking. No pokenosing."
Danish grumbled but followed, muttering, "I don't even know what's going on…"
Upstairs, Nuha stared at herself in the mirror. Her dress was elegant, complimenting her skin perfectly, but something about it felt too flashy.
Danish leaned against the door frame. "It's nice. Really." He even snapped a quick picture.
Nawal's phone buzzed. It was Kaysan. She answered immediately, her voice light and affectionate, filled with playful laughter. Nuha and Danish groaned simultaneously, unable to escape the lovey-dovey conversation.
Nuha glanced at the time. "I'm almost late," she muttered, gathering her bag.
"I'll drop you off," Nawal offered.
"No, I'll go myself," Danish interjected.
Nuha rolled her eyes at their bickering. She grabbed her bag, waved to Aisha and Zafir, and slipped out of the house without waiting for their argument to end.
Aisha forced a smile, hiding the photos in her hands as Nuha hurriedly got into a cab. Her mind was already on work, the morning's chaos fading behind her as the city lights blurred past.
The office buzzed as usual, but today, every eye seemed to drift toward Nuha as she walked past her colleagues. She kept her head high, moving toward her desk with graceful steps, but the whispers followed her like a trail of sparks.
"Did you see her today?" someone murmured.
"She's… radiant," another replied, eyes lingering.
Nuha felt her cheeks heat up but didn't break her stride. She wasn't used to this kind of attention, and yet, today she felt a quiet confidence, a glow that came not just from her appearance but from the sense of accomplishment she carried inside. Working late last night, submitting the reports, double-checking every number. It was exhausting, but it had paid off.
Unbeknownst to her, Rayyan had just arrived. Walking past the clusters of whispering employees, he noticed the way everyone's eyes followed her. He clenched his jaw and forced himself to look straight ahead. It's nothing, he told himself. She's just your secretary. Focus.
And yet, when he passed near her office, he caught sight of her from the corner of his eye. Nuha...glowing, composed, yet somehow delicate in the morning light was utterly captivating. He forced himself to look away, walking past, but the image lingered.
A moment later, he called her to his office.
Nuha knocked lightly before entering.
"Miss Nuha," Rayyan said, gesturing to the chair in front of his desk. His voice was calm, steady, professional but there was a subtle warmth, something beneath the surface that only she might notice if she looked closely.
"Sir," she replied, her voice steady despite the flutter in her chest.
"Stand for a moment," he said. Nuha did as instructed, adjusting her posture. Her scarf was slightly loose at the back, but she didn't notice.
Rayyan studied her for a moment, carefully keeping his expression neutral. "I noticed… the office seems unusually distracted today. Can you tell me why?"
Nuha blinked. "I… I'm not sure, sir. Maybe it's just a busy day?"
"Yes, perhaps," he said, eyes flicking briefly to hers before returning to his usual professional tone. "Let's review the schedule. I need the client reports finalized by noon, and yesterday's extra workload must be compiled and ready. Any mistakes will be unacceptable."
She nodded, mentally preparing herself. She had stayed late last night, and the fatigue was still there, but she would not let it show.
Rayyan's voice softened fractionally. "However… I've reduced some of your tasks for today. The others seem to be slowing down. You, of course, maintain your efficiency. Consider this an acknowledgment of your diligence."
Nuha blinked in surprise. "Thank you, sir," she said softly, the words barely above a whisper. He noticed I was working late…
Rayyan opened a drawer and retrieved a set of keys. "Additionally, the company has recognized your efforts. Employee of the month—hard work, commitment, diligence. You'll be receiving a reward."
Nuha froze. "Employee of the month?" She didn't remember there being such an award, or a prize.
Rayyan slid the keys across the desk. "A car. You won't have to rely on anyone else to get to work anymore. It's practical, not sentimental."
Nuha's eyes widened. "A… car?" she asked, trying to keep her voice calm while her heart leapt.
"Yes," he said, tone flat, professional, yet his gaze lingered a moment longer than necessary. "The company recognizes your hard work. Consider it a practical measure."
Nuha smiled, forcing herself to remain composed, though her hands trembled slightly as she picked up the keys. "Thank you, sir. I… really appreciate it."
Rayyan nodded once, clearing his throat. "There's also a business lunch today. You will attend with me at a restaurant for a client meeting. Dress appropriately, and prepare accordingly. You may need to make adjustments if necessary."
Nuha glanced down at her outfit. "I… may need to go home to change. I wasn't planning..."
"No need," Rayyan interrupted. "We'll stop at the mall on the way. Adjust if necessary. Just make sure you're ready."
She nodded, biting her lip to suppress a smile. "Understood, sir."
Nuha dropped the file on his desk and began to leave, but Rayyan stepped closer. Her pulse accelerated instantly, the air between them charged.
Her scarf had shifted slightly in her rush to leave. Rayyan's hand reached out, brushing gently against the fabric. "It's loose," he said softly. "It should sit like this."
Nuha froze, caught off guard. Their eyes met, and the room seemed to shrink around them. The warmth of his hand, the proximity, the subtle scent of his cologne..it all collided, leaving her breathless.
Rayyan's voice lowered, careful yet unconsciously intimate. "There. Much better."
Nuha's heart thudded painfully in her chest. Her brain tried to focus, tried to remind her of professionalism, but it was impossible. She felt heat rising to her cheeks, butterflies fluttering wildly.
For a suspended moment, neither spoke. Both were lost in the other's gaze. Her lips parted slightly. His usual composure flickered for just a second, a softness he quickly masked.
"Nuha?" His professional tone returned, cutting through the spell.
"Yes, sir?" she whispered, trying to steady her voice and her heartbeat.
Rayyan's phone buzzed on his desk. He glanced at it, dismissed the call, and finally stepped back. "You may return to your office."
Nuha turned, walking back slowly, her hands lightly touching the scarf as if to ground herself. Her mind replayed every second. I… I'm not going to wash this scarf again, she thought, smiling to herself. It's my favorite now.
Returning to her office, Nuha tried to focus on the files in front of her. Her cheeks still burned, and her heart refused to settle. Every glance at her computer screen was interrupted by flashes of Rayyan's face, the intensity of his gaze, the unexpected warmth behind his professional mask.
Even the office chatter seemed muted. Her colleagues continued to glance at her, some whispering, but she barely noticed. Her thoughts were consumed by the morning's encounter.
Why did he… adjust my scarf? she wondered, biting her lip. Why did it feel like more than just professional?
Nuha tapped her pen nervously. Focus, she reminded herself. It's just… a professional interaction. That's all.
Her mind wandered anyway. He… he noticed my overtime, he gave me a car… and… and the way he looked at me…
She shook her head, trying to laugh at herself. Ridiculous. He's my boss. He's professional. Nothing more. Nothing more.
And yet, she could not stop replaying the moment the feel of his hand, the way his eyes softened just slightly, the slight tremor in her chest as she realized he had been closer than ever before.
A colleague approached with a question about a report, breaking her thoughts. "Miss Nuha, can you clarify the Q2 figures?"
"Yes, of course," she said, quickly recovering her professional demeanor, though her fingers still trembled slightly from adrenaline.
Sitting down, she tried to focus. Her heart, however, refused to calm. Why does he have to make it so difficult to focus? she thought, smiling faintly.
The clock ticked down faster than usual, and Nuha glanced at her watch. It was almost time for the lunch meeting. She exhaled, adjusting her scarf once more, as if the simple act could steady her racing heart.
Professional, Nuha. Focus. This is a meeting. Just a meeting…
But even as she reminded herself, butterflies fluttered violently in her stomach. The thought of being in the same room with him, sitting across from him, watching him talk to clients while sneaking glances at her, her chest tightened at the anticipation.
She smiled faintly to herself, touching the scarf again. I'm not washing you. Not today. Not ever.
Nuha reviewed the meeting agenda, but her mind wandered. The office felt suddenly small, almost suffocating, as she remembered the heat of his hand adjusting her scarf. The way his eyes had lingered just a second too long.
Every time she glanced toward his office, she imagined him looking back. Her fingers nervously fiddled with her pen. Her stomach flipped. She felt a delicious, terrifying mix of excitement and nervousness.
Okay, Nuha, she whispered to herself. Professional. Focus. But… maybe… just maybe… I wouldn't mind if he looked at me like that again.