the meeting

Steave :~

I arrived at the office early, my mind fixed on the new project. This was more than just another assignment—it had the potential to put the company ahead of its competitors for years. Every detail needed my attention.

The elevator doors opened on the 15th floor. I stepped out, focused on my phone, scrolling through the overnight reports, when it happened—Liza appeared from the corner, walking quickly with a heavy stack of papers in her arms.

She wasn’t looking up.

We collided.

The papers slipped from her grip and scattered across the floor. She stumbled, but I caught her just in time. My hands rested on her arms, steadying her. For a few seconds, neither of us moved.

Her eyes met mine—startled, bright, and unsure.

“Sorry, sir,” she said, stepping back quickly.

I knelt, picked up the papers, and handed them to her. “Be careful,” I said quietly. I turned and walked toward my office before I could let myself say more.

Liza :~

I stood frozen for a moment, my pulse thumping hard in my ears. The touch of his hands still lingered, making me feel warm and uneasy. I shook my head quickly—this was not the time to be distracted.

Later in the morning, Miya and I went to the meeting room. Today was the big day—the start of the new project.

[Meeting Room]

Steave entered a few minutes later, carrying his laptop and a dark blue folder with Project Aster written neatly on the front. His presence filled the room, even though he said nothing at first.

“This project matters,” he began, his voice calm but firm. “If we succeed, it will set new standards in the industry. You two”—he looked directly at Miya and me—“will be in charge of design and marketing. I’ll handle development and final approval.”

Miya leaned forward eagerly. “What’s the main vision for the project?”

He explained everything in a clear, confident way—our target audience, the competition, the risks, and the deadlines. As he spoke, I couldn’t help noticing how steady his eyes were, and how certain he sounded about every decision. I wrote down notes quickly, trying not to miss a word.

After twenty minutes of back-and-forth discussion, Miya stood up. “I’ll be back in a minute. Need to use the washroom.”

The door closed softly behind her. And then, it was just me and him.

[Alone with Steave]

The silence grew heavy. He leaned back slightly in his chair, flipping through the project plan, his pen tapping the table in a slow, steady rhythm. I kept my eyes on my notes, but I could feel his presence, like a quiet pressure in the room.

Then his voice broke the stillness.

“Is something wrong, Ms. Pollad?”

I looked up too quickly. “No, sir. Everything’s fine.”

His gaze stayed on me for a few seconds, as if searching for something in my expression. Then he nodded and returned to the papers.

I tried to focus, but I was suddenly aware of every sound—the pen against the wood, the quiet hum of the air conditioning, even the tick of the wall clock. My hands were cold, so I kept them hidden under the table.

The door opened, and Miya came back, cheerful and ready to work. She didn’t seem to notice the strange stillness that had filled the room.

We continued discussing the project. Steave went over some sketches, asked for suggestions, and listened carefully.

“Miya, what’s your idea for the initial design?” he asked.

She explained her concept quickly and confidently. He nodded.

Then he turned to me. “And you, Ms. Pollad?”

I swallowed, my mind working fast. “I think we should keep the design modern but simple—something easy for customers to understand, but still fresh enough to stand out.”

His eyes held mine for a moment before he gave a small, approving nod. “Good. Keep developing that thought.”

We continued for another half hour, planning tasks and timelines. But even as we wrapped up the meeting and gathered our things, I could still feel the weight of his gaze from earlier.

When I stepped out into the hallway, my heart was still beating faster than it should.

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