Chapter 6

THE ASSISTANT

The air between them grew thicker with each second, heavy with unspoken words. One paced about in agitation, the other stood rigid, eyes wide in shock. So heavy was the haze of smoke that filled the entire room, blinding judgement and reality. The silence is louder than words have ever been. Feelings-fear, shock were mounting an invisible barrier between them neither one of whom dared to cross. The air was taut, brittle, on the point of shattering.

Why are you in my office?" Aria demanded, her brow arching up in shocked surprise as she rose back up from the instant before.

Jerry moved and sat with his back to her desk, slowly turning to face her. His lips twisted into a smile but it was a flirt.

"Do you really don't want me here?" he asked, his voice low and quiet.

Her eyes opened wide. "Get out," she snarled, pointing her finger at the door. "I didn't even know you stole my spot! I already told you we're square. I paid you, didn't I?"

"Yeah, you did," Jerry said, standing up now, his hands deep in his pockets. "But now… you've hired me."

Aria blinked in shock. "Hired you?" Betrayal flooded her thoughts as she shattered into words. "Why don't I receive it?"

You signed it yourself. You were in a rush, did not have the time to read the fine print, did you?" he mocked in sneering laughter. "One sentence—two weeks temporary aide."

She stepped back, gasping. No. This is not happening. Her mind flecked about trying to recall the stack of documents her secretary had hurried her through. She had signed something under pressure…

Her face burned with humiliation and rage. "How could this be?" she whispered.

Jerry's eyes locked with hers, calm but insane. "Mad or not, I work for you now."

Aria stared vacantly at him. She couldn't focus if this was fate, payback, or a vile piece of irony.

The words hit home as it gave a flicker of a nerve that caused a thud in her chest. "I was just recently admitted here ma'am as your aide!My name is Jerry. It would be nice to work with you."

Her eyes blinked, dazed for a moment, she couldn't catch her breath. Jerry? Her aide? That was unthinkable. No one had informed her of a switch—at least, not so radical a one.

Aria's eyes slowly came up to his, her face quivering between disbelief and confusion. The lad in front of him did not raise an eyelid, confident creased on each feature, yet, but the gentleness in his voice erased the sting of the shocking news.

"Aide?" she said again, actually to herself. Her gaze traced the folder in his hand, neatly labeled with her name. It was not an error. This was happening.

A thousand questions percolated just below the surface—Why didn't they inform me? Who did they pair him with? What is happening with Lisa?

She smiled graciously, the lines of her lips shaking with fear. "I… see," she said finally, her voice not quite firm.

Jerry nodded, still smiling. But Aria's mind was not clear. She was lost, confused—as if the ground beneath her feet had shifted quietly.

Jerry had his hands shoved into place in front of him, and the dropping of his eyes revealed complete humility. But a smile seeped out behind him as it pulled at the edges of his mouth and blurred his expression. His timing was impeccable—just enough to reveal the irony—and then instantly relaxed itself into the expression of regret.

Coughing softly, he looked up at her with glassy eyes of feigned helplessness. "I want to get out of call boying," he whispered, voice as low as possible, as if the confession was too burdensome to make "This is the only way that I can survive."

He edged on cautiously, stopping for effect. "This piece of work, you're not stealing it from me, are you?" he breathed, his voice dropping to a whisper, and so full of such desparation that it was plausible.

He performed to perfection—each action rehearsed, each word calculated. Inside, he was distant, studying her reactions like a field marshal. He was a broken young man who needed the final crumb of sympathy from the world.

His smile was wiped away, replaced by bouts of fake sorrow. But for those who peered closely—very, very closely—the reality sparkled in his eyes. Would she observe? Or be deceived by the act as the rest did?

Aria drew a deep, unhurried breath, her situation bearing down on her like a shelf of fog. Her shoulders slumped and it was more than fatigue—it was resignation, reluctant and unfine. She looked out the window for a moment, her eyes vacant, empty as if she were trying to let go of something.

Finally, she turned, her voice low but steady, tinged with a surrender “The files are on the table,” she said, gesturing half-heartedly toward the neat stack she had placed there earlier. “Take them. Go over everything carefully.”

She paused, fingers lightly brushing the edge of the desk, grounding herself. Her smile was bitter, all sadness. “It’s all there—every detail, every answer you’re looking for. No more secrets. Just… truth.”

Her gaze went to the calendar on her desk, and that one was painted with urgency colors. "get used to my schedule. If you're going to work here, you must be good."

The finality of her voices was made sharper and more distinct. She wasn't trying to be heard, she was just doing. And in that moment, the last of her defenses broke, revealing the repressed strength of one who had finally stopped fleeing from reality.

But he could not turn away before he approached her smelling her odors and tuning in

But only after he had turned his back on her did he pause—drawn to her as if by an invisible thread. Without speaking, he moved closer to her, each breath closing the distance between them. He leaned forward, breathed in the scent of her—warm, familiar, strong—and for a moment, time remained fixed. With a gentleness that took her breath, he bent down and pushed a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. And then, without a word, turned and walked away.

She stood there, immobilized, her heart racing, her lips still parted in amazement, frozen. Shocked. Shaken. Still his....