The metro car screeched to a halt, and I jolted forward, grabbing the grimy handrail to steady myself. My blouse stuck to my back from the combination of humidity and stress. The morning rush hour had swallowed me whole, and the weight of Aunt Ramila's last words still echoed in my head: "You think you're tired? I raised you. What more do you want from me?"
I never answered her. I just walked out.
By the time I stepped out of the underground and into the blinding morning light, my mind was already mapping out the hours ahead—checking if I could fit in lunch, if I'd have enough time to update the sales reports before noon, and if my boss, Dinesh Kumar, would remember to blame me for the thing he forgot to do yesterday.
When I arrived at the Calein Tower, the building stretched up into the clouds like a pillar of glass and steel. The contrast between its shimmering surface and my half-wrinkled clothes always felt like a cruel joke. I was a ghost in this place. Necessary but invisible.
I reached my floor, and the usual flurry of footsteps and muted greetings surrounded me. No one noticed I was late—until they did.
"Lara, conference room. Now," barked Dinesh the moment he caught sight of me.
No "good morning," no acknowledgment of the extra hours I'd worked last week. I didn't bother defending myself. I followed him like a shadow into the glass-walled room, my pulse quickening.
Inside, a few senior staff members sat stiffly, eyes forward. Dinesh cleared his throat.
"We've received word from the top. Richard Calein himself."
A murmur rippled through the room. I froze.
"He's demoting our floor manager," Dinesh continued. "And he's requested a temporary replacement—someone who knows our internal systems."
Then his eyes landed on me.
"You."
The room went still.
"I—I'm sorry?" I managed.
"You'll be the acting floor lead. Just until the board appoints someone else. Don't get comfortable."
My hands went clammy.
This wasn't an opportunity. It was a test. And everyone in this room knew it.
---
I returned to my desk and stared at the monitor, my mind racing. Had Richard really picked me? Why? What had he seen in me during that brief meeting? Did he even remember what I looked like?
My inbox flooded with internal messages.
Subject: New Reporting Structure
To: Lara D'Souza
CC: Operations Depth.
Please begin overseeing the following accounts…
And just like that, I was no longer invisible.
By noon, my head was pounding. I skipped lunch. I'd already made mistakes—nothing serious, but enough to haunt me.
The next few days passed in a blur.
Late nights. Silent elevators. Endless spreadsheets.
I didn't see Richard again. But I felt his presence everywhere. His name was on every report I reviewed. Every memo. Every decision. He was like gravity, dictating the pull of everything in the company.
I found myself learning faster than I thought I could. My coworkers were wary—some annoyed, some indifferent—but no one challenged me directly.
Not yet.
One evening, I stayed past ten, waiting for a system upload to complete. The floor was empty. The city lights glowed outside the tall windows. The silence was oddly peaceful.
That's when I heard the elevator.
And then, footsteps.
I looked up—and there he was.
Richard Calein.
He didn't look surprised to see me. If anything, he looked... unsurprised. As if he'd expected me to still be here.
"Ms. D'Souza," he said, walking toward my desk.
I stood up automatically, heart racing. "Sir."
He glanced at the screen behind me. "Finalizing the shipment reports?"
"Yes."
"Your department cleared it hours ago."
"I… I wanted to double-check."
He nodded once. "Good."
There was silence. Not awkward—just sharp. Measured.
"I want to ask you something," he said.
I held my breath.
"If you're working this hard, is it to prove yourself to me—or to get away from something else?"
The question caught me off guard.
"I'm not sure," I said honestly.
He looked at me for a moment longer. Then, without another word, he turned and walked away.
Later that night, as I walked home, I thought about that question.
Was I working this hard because I wanted to succeed?
Or was it because work was the only place I wasn't reminded of how lonely my life had become?
At home, my aunt was already asleep—or pretending to be. The dishes were still in the sink. A bill had been slid under the door. I picked it up without looking at it.
And I realized: I didn't know what I was running toward.
But I knew exactly what I was running from.