Chapter 5 05

The warm hum of the city buzzed faintly around her as Ayla stepped out of Hayes Corporation's building. It was past closing hours, and the streets were softer now-less noise, fewer people. She pulled her coat tighter around herself, the evening breeze brushing her face like a cool whisper.

She was tired. Her body ached, her eyes stung, and her mind wandered far from the busy glass towers she had spent all day inside.

But she smiled, just a little.

No matter how small the job was, she was working now. She was earning something. After months of silence and slammed doors, she had found a way in-even if she didn't know exactly how she'd been hired. It was a blessing, and she wasn't going to waste it.

She was halfway down the steps when she stopped.

Dread crawled up her spine like ice.

Leaning against a sleek black car parked across the street was Derrick.

Not again.

He looked the same. Slick suit. Greasy smile. Arrogant stance. The man who had taken her hope and trampled on it the day he pretended to offer her a job, only to try and exploit her. Her stomach churned.

His eyes met hers, and his grin widened.

"Well, look who it is," he called out, pushing himself off the car. "The little mouse who thought she had claws."

She didn't reply. She kept walking.

"Oh, come on," he jeered. "You didn't think that little stunt would land you a real job, did you? Slapping your way through interviews now, sweetheart?"

Ayla said nothing, her jaw clenched. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing her flinch.

"Figures you'd end up still broke," he sneered. "Guess you finally learned your place."

Still silent, she passed him. But just as she did, she felt it-a hand. Rough and uninvited, pressing low against her back and on her butt.

She froze.

"Don't walk away from me like you're something special," he growled, hands still on her butt.

Before she could think, she spun around and slapped him across the face with every ounce of strength she had.

"You don't touch me!" she shouted, her voice ringing down the block.

Derrick's face twisted in rage. "You crazy-!"

She stepped back, chest heaving. A few passersby paused at the scene, watching curiously, but when Derrick raised his hands like he was the victim, they only frowned in confusion.

"She's unstable," he scoffed. "Girls like her always are."

"Liar," she muttered under her breath, but the crowd had already lost interest.

She walked away quickly, shoulders stiff, throat tight.

No one had believed her.

~~~~~~~

H&K APARTMENT BUILDING***

Her apartment welcomed her with silence and dim lighting. She closed the door, dropped her bag, and leaned against the wall, trying to breathe through the tightness in her chest.

She didn't cry.

She wouldn't.

Instead, she went straight to the bathroom, turned the hot water on full blast, and stepped into the bathtub. The warmth surrounded her like a fragile shield. She closed her eyes and let it wash away the disgust, the fear, the frustration.

Minutes passed.

Maybe hours.

When she got out, she dried herself slowly, wrapped her robe tighter, and padded into the kitchen. She boiled water, made a bowl of instant noodles, and sat at the counter in silence, eating slowly. The food wasn't perfect, but it filled her stomach and softened the silence.

She picked up her phone and called her mother.

Her mother's voice was weak but sweet, as always.

"Ayla, how are you, my baby?"

"I'm okay, Mom," she said gently. "How are you feeling?"

"Still tired, but I'm alright." She said. "I hope you took your medications today."

"Yes I did, my baby." Her mother replied.

They talked for a while-about the weather, her mother's health, the little flowers growing on the balcony. Ayla never mentioned Derrick. Her mother didn't need that kind of worry.

After the call, Ayla curled up on her bed, phone by her side, and slowly drifted into sleep, her heart still sore but her spirit not broken.

~~~~~~

BACK AT THE OFFICE**

The office floor was mostly empty when Killian stepped out of his office. His tailored suit was sharp as always, his steps measured and quiet. He didn't like unnecessary noise. Or distractions.

But tonight, one stood right in front of him.

Aurora.

Perfectly styled hair, flawless makeup, and an aura of practiced elegance. She stood like she belonged in a commercial, and she smiled when she saw him.

"I was hoping I'd catch you before you left," she said, stepping closer.

Before he could respond, she leaned in and kissed him. Soft. Warm. Familiar.

He kissed her back. Briefly. Automatically.

But when they pulled away, something in his eyes was distant.

"You didn't answer my call," she said, her tone teasing.

"I was busy," he replied, glancing toward his office door. "Didn't see it."

A lie.

The truth was he'd seen it and didn't feel like answering. He just couldn't tell her that. Not without triggering a scene.

Aurora pouted, brushing invisible lint off his sleeve. "You've been so cold lately."

"I've been working."

"That's all you ever say," she said, but she smiled anyway, slipping her arm through his. "Let's go have dinner. I made reservations."

He nodded. "Alright."

As they walked toward the elevators, Killian's reflection caught his attention in the polished glass.

He looked perfect.

Polished. Powerful. Cold.

Exactly what people expected of him.

But for some reason, the thought of that quiet girl from the other day-her eyes downcast, her voice steady despite how nervous she'd looked-crept into his mind.

She was... different.

He didn't know why she was still there, working in his company when she lacked the necessary qualifications.

But something about her presence hadn't sat wrong with him.

In fact, it hadn't sat wrong at all.

To be continued......