"In the realm of closed eyes, peaceful dreams abide; yet, it is the unwavering ones that unveil the strength within."
Even the thought-provoking quotes and comforting scent of freshly roasted coffee beans couldn't shake her nervous thoughts about finally meeting the person she had been searching for months—the one who might hold the key to unravelling the mystery of her mamu's kidnapping; a puzzle that had troubled her for a long time. If only it would work out as intended.
"Manya?"
The MS logo of the pizzeria across from the coffee parlour exerted a magnetic pull. So, what will it be?
"Manya?"
She gathered her thoughts—a young man in his early twenties stood beside her. He wore a large apron with rolled-up sleeves and sported a rather untrustworthy grin, holding a cup of coffee, ready to serve.
"Manya?" he said.
"Yes."
He set the coffee down on the table. "Here's your freshly brewed black coffee, Ms. Let me know if you need anything else." And he left. He kept calling her name, but she became absorbed in the pizza shop's logo. She wanted to apologise, but dropped the idea when teeth of the server shined from across the counter. It's admirable how men could expose their self-obsessions, even at the cost of their reputation. Do guys not realise that someone isn't interested?
His gaze darted from person to person, always searching for personal gain—showering the customers with an endless stream of compliments, which they accepted with a fake, but polite smile. They all were aware of his motives, but even fake compliments can touch voids, yearning for a genuine praise. He excelled at understanding their emotional needs.
A notification lit up her phone's screen; a message from Ira. Instead of providing a much-needed distraction, it only deepened the sense of regret after reading it. The message stated, "He knows." She let out a deep sigh. Her phonetook a few minutes and 8 missed calls from her boss before settling down. How come this tastes so good after not picking up his calls?
A server approached the table and placed the ordered cookies, and the reason she ordered it—a note hidden beneath the largest cookie which read "MS at 1 PM."
"Finally!" Manya said. Heads snapped out from behind laptops, phones and the counter. "What?" Rolling her eyes—she texted Ira, "ETA 15 mins, no evidence."
Ira quickly responded, "Are you crazy? You're telling me to approach him during flirt hours?"
"Your problem," she texted back.
The last sip of coffee brought her a mix of satisfaction and sadness, knowing it could be the last semi-peaceful coffee. However, as the cup lowered from her eyes, her soul screamed upon seeing the persistent server standing inches away—the last sip returned to where it came from—sparking a wave of laughter. Her eyes shot up to meet his, searching for any hint of apology, but he smirked with a generous smile. "What's wrong with you?"
"Oh, nothing. I just wanted to ask you. Did you like the coffee?"
Krishna, can I please kill someone, just once?
He handed over the bill. "For being a regular customer. Today's order is on the house."
She slapped the cash on the bill. "It was the worst coffee I ever had!" and rushed to the exit.
But before she could grasp the door handle, he intercepted her—blocked her path and offered her a bag full of handmade cookies. "Sorry for any kind of inconvenience," he said.
A complimentary gift from the persistent server—a sweet reward she accepted for enduring him and achieving success in finding a person linked to MS. Refusing to glance back, she could still sense his grin targeting her from behind.
"Idiot."
***
On her way to the office, she stopped by the burger vendor. "Hey handsome. Just tell me, what's it going to take for you to tell me the secret recipe? And why the cops still haven't arrested you for selling blood on the streets?"
His gaze held care. "You look… tired." He started cleaning the counter. "My sauce doesn't change its worth like blood, which becomes noble in veins of rich, and I plan to pass the recipe only to my daughter, not to a girl who stopped buying my art just to stay in shape."
A smile spread across Manya's face. "At least, I am doing an effort, unlike." She glanced at his belly.
"This here." He patted his belly. "Sign of a happy life."
A chuckle escaped her. "I am jealous." She passed him the cookies. "Here. Freshly baked. And as for the recipe, it will take two or three bottles for you to spill it. How is she?"
"Worrying over her semester exams," he said.
"She's smart, unlike us." Both of them agreed. "Pass her a message from me. Tell her all she needs is a little icing before turning up the heat, or else it will ruin both of your future."
Confused, he said, "What heat? And why would I be ruined?"
"Not you. She'll know."
"What's with this number?" He took out a piece of paper from the bag of cookies, which contained a number and above, a weird art of a tongue drawn over a heart.
"I-It's nothing. It's the number of a local mattress company. You know how the quality in the market these days. This one is both cheap and better, and will make your heart droooool over it." Please believe it.
His brows furrowed as he studied her—he grabbed his phone. "Here, save it on my phone. I've been thinking of getting her a new one."
She entered a wrong number. "Done." While he attended a customer—she tore the paper.
He pressed further. "Still don't want one?"
She shook her head and hugged him. Her eyes drifted away—shouldn't have lied—especially since it might be their last moment together. "Send her, my love." He nodded her goodbye. The day she met him and his daughter still felt anew. A man who used to beg for survival—now a thriving burger vendor, thanks to his relentless effort and the cart she had gifted him. Her most valuable investment.
***
Just before reaching her office, she witnessed a collision between an egotistical girl responsible for the accident, and an average office worker on his bike who suffered significant injuries for following the traffic rules and stopping at the red signal.
Without delay, Manya assisted him to a car, while the crowd around was busy listening to girl's arguments and mending her tiny scratches. The man thanked her and requested to have her number, but on her command, the helper raced the wounded to care.
"What is today?" she whispered. "Why do I have this feeling that I'm gonna die today? And what's with these cramps?" She reached the office. "I hope you have dealt with it, Ira."
***
Manya sneaked to the floor and crawled to her desk, drawing giggles and laughter from her colleagues.
"There you are," Ira whispered.
Ira's messy hair caught her attention. "What's wrong with your hair?" Manya said.
"You owe me big."
"Don't tell me you…"
"Oh, hell no!"
"Then why's this blurred?" She touched Ira's lips.
"I kept it light. You, freak."
Ira described how she had forged project approvals, printed them, and manipulated the boss into reviewing them by pretending they were urgent. An impressive feat indeed, with 10 closest to genuine fake documents generated in a mere 19 minutes. Enough to give them a few hours of peace. If it weren't for weekends, Ira would have caught within minutes.
"Just how?"
"With my charms."
"And I am the one getting blamed for thinking sideways." Her talents always left Manya in awe. Ira was more than just a colleague; she was her best friend, neighbour, shoulder to cry on, relationship advisor, masseuse, and the one she has been lying to.
Ira leaned closer. "So?"
Manya glanced sideways. "What?"
"Did he say yes?"
Manya failed to grasp the meaning behind Ira's words.
"Was it that bad? Don't tell me he rejected you?" Ira said.
Oh! Manya remembered the tale she had fabricated about a guy in the coffee shop, and how she had planned to ask him out today.
"He's not worth my time."
"Why? Does he also have pimples on his ass?" Ira poked Manya's shoulder.
"No. Wait—what? How would I know?"
"But you knew about Sameer's."
"Sameer? Him. Yes, only because he was drying his brief in a hand dryer, and coincidentally, I repeat, coincidentally, I went inside men's room."
"Babe, things around washrooms don't happen 'coincidentally.' Just accept it; you're a pervert."
"Hmm." She became overwhelmed with negative thoughts. What if her plan failed? What if the person doesn't appear? What if the MS pizza shop closes early today?
Ira pinched her hard.
"Ow! What?" Manya said.
"I can't believe I'm being ignored after all that effort. Should have given you away."
She rubbed her elbow. "Do it. It's not like he'll shoot me."
Ira giggled. "Oh, he won't shoot you. He'll just say a few divine words in front of everyone that'll make you want to pull the trigger."
Manya smirked. "I've got it covered. No need to worry."
"And how do you plan to do that?"
"How else? I'll blame everything on you." She glanced at Ira's fist, "No, no, no!"
Ira halted her punch just before reaching the partition, capturing the attention of everyone on the floor. While Ira continued to smile, the thought that it could be their last shared moment of happiness ached her heart. All she has is me.How will she survive without me?
"At least have some guts." Ira pulled Manya's chair and caressed her arm. "Everything will work out fine. Don't stress over it."
"Who said I amstressing?"
"Ask your legs."
Manya couldn't stop shaking her legs. "It's not stress, It's…"
"The weather?"
"Ye—No, the AC."
"Oh, yes. Definitely."
Manya wanted to share with Ira the full story of how her life had unexpectedly unfolded. Yet, it would only expose Ira to danger—or those fake winged beings. She couldn't bear the weight of another tragedy involving someone she cared about.
***
At 12:50 PM, Manya gathered her things and gave her resignation to Ira. Though it seemed futile to write a resignation, she had preferred not to attract the attention of government officials. As if they can actually do something about it.
"You are going now?" Ira said.
"Don't you hear his overly sweet voice? Your plan can't even hold him for a few hours, and I don't want to be near him and waste the last few hours in this country arguing with him."
"I'll come with you."
"Yes, you can come if you want to get fired."
"Why would he fire me?"
"Why? Because you are my true enemy, that's why." Manya poked Ira's forehead. "I know friends should fall together—but not this time, and what if that guy finds out that you knew about my resignation since last month—and if you went with me, how will you blame those fake approvals on me? I don't think he'll jump with excitement after finding the truth."
A collective hush fell over the floor, applications minimised, and chairs straightened.
"Hurry, and all the best for your future in Japan," Ira said.
"Japan? Oh, yes, yes." Manya leaned in for the last hug. "Thank you." As she pulled back—a bittersweet smile appeared on Ira's lips. Manya extended her hand to wipe away Ira's tears, but she declined.
"I'll be fine. Now, run before he sees you," Ira said.
"Love you. Miss me." With a sprint, she headed towards the elevator, hoping to meet the individual who could lead her to her mamu's whereabouts.
Japan was an excuse she had made to explain her resignation. A lie that could provoke jealousy among her coworkers, as nobody wanted to witness a newcomer earning more than those with 5-6 years of experience. She still had uncertainties. If she had been too assertive, it would be unusual for someone new to earn ten times more than their boss—or former boss.
She chose the shortest route to the elevator and stole a quick glance at the glass partition. To her surprise, the boss was nowhere to be found. Next instance, he appeared in front of her, dressed in a tight suit that revealed his belly fat. "Wow. You're fast."
"Going somewhere?" he said.
"Yes, going for lunch." She always attempted to avoid people who needlessly stressed her out, especially her boss, who had a knack for blowing minor issues out of proportion. Instead of resolving them alone over a simple phone call, he wastes hours engaging in lengthy discussions about how "They" could address minor issues.
"You may attend to that matter in a few moments," he said.
"I can't do that. The restaurant will get busy, and by the time I can make it to a table, lunchtime will be over. And I know a very respected person. I won't name him, but he doesn't like flexible breaks." She pressed the elevator's button.
"When did you intend to inform me about your plans for Japan?"
Directly? And how the hell does he know? Boss, for a reason. She had expected him to bring up her past mistakes to dominate her before raising the topic, but it seemed people could change.
"Today."
"You can't just leave like this. There's a proper procedure for that, and if you don't follow it, I can take legal actions against you."
He entered the elevator behind her, but didn't have the courage to stop her.
"And I thought we'd celebrate my last day with a smile and alcohol. Guess you don't get everything you wish for," she said.
"What's with this attitude? You never talked to me like this."
"Really?"
"Yes, you were innocent and hard-working girl, and my best employee."
"I'll keep the last one. The others are just the fruits of your imagination."
After making several funny expressions, he said. "What if I give you a raise?"
His sudden new and calm approach took her aback. If he could have embodied just a third of what she witnessed now, therapy at the local bar would have been unnecessary.
"Like the raise you gave to Amelia?"
His face turned pale. "I-I. What you are talking about?"
The elevator door opened, revealing a silent corridor devoid of any signs of activity. "Miss me." With a sweet and innocent smile, she bid him farewell.
"I'll promote you!" the boss said.
"Still be your slave!"
She cast one last look at her office building—a wave of nostalgia washed over her, recalling the moments she had experienced there. "I still can't believe I endured working for that stubborn, pig-headed boss for nearly a year," she whispered."I deserve a reward." Even the faces of the building's security personnel stirred up emotions in her.
"Goodbye, Ms." a guard at the building's entrance said—warm smile playing on his lips.
Her lips pursed in a tight line, and she fought back tears, blinking rapidly.