The clatter of high heels on marble floors echoed through the pristine lobby of Kaya Designs. Areeba adjusted her bag strap nervously, glancing at the towering glass walls that seemed to mirror her apprehension. This was no ordinary company. Landing a part-time job here would be nothing short of a miracle.
She approached the reception desk, her neatly printed résumé clutched tightly in her hand. "Excuse me, I'm here for the intern interview," she said, her voice steady despite the knot tightening in her stomach.
Before the receptionist could reply, a voice interrupted from behind. "Oh, you're here for that job?"
She turned sharply to see a man leaning casually against the pillar. He looked young, perhaps in his early thirties, dressed in a fitted blazer and carrying an air of relaxed confidence. His brown eyes held a flicker of mischief as they met hers.
"Yes," she replied, standing taller, "and I hope it's worth the effort."
The man smirked. "Well, good luck. The boss here is a real piece of work. Rude, demanding, impossible to please. Honestly, I don't know why anyone would want to work under him."
Areeba blinked, surprised by his candor. "Really? That bad?"
He nodded solemnly, though the corner of his mouth twitched as if suppressing a laugh. "Worst boss you'll ever meet. But hey, it's a designer company. Prestige comes at a price."
Something in his tone made her laugh despite herself. "Well, I don't have much choice. This scholarship doesn't exactly pay for my groceries. If it means putting up with a tyrant, so be it."
The man straightened, extending a hand. "I'm Emir, by the way. I work here."
"Areeba," she replied, shaking his hand. His grip was firm but warm, his expression unreadable.
"Well, Areeba," Emir said, stepping back, "good luck in there. Just... try not to mention anything about the boss being a tyrant."
Before she could respond, he turned and walked away, leaving her staring after him, puzzled by the faint smirk still lingering on his face.
It wasn't until that evening, back at the house where she was staying, that the truth came crashing down.
"You met Emir Kaya?" the son of the family exclaimed, eyes wide. "He's not just some employee. He owns Kaya Designs. He is the boss!"
The room seemed to spin as Areeba sank into her chair. Her mind raced, replaying every word she had said to him earlier. Rude? Demanding? A tyrant? She had said it all, and to his face.
Somewhere in the city, Emir was probably laughing