Chapter 3

8th December, 2026

Blair

I rose abruptly from the couch. Of all the things I expected her to say, that was the last thing.

“But—”

“Wait.” Emma interrupted, silencing me before continuing. “I know that this is by all means a sucky situation, but consider this from your boss's point of view. You two have been in this cold war for a year, just about the same amount of time you've met him. From what you've told me before, both of you avoid communicating unless absolutely necessary, and even when you do need to, it still causes tension. Do you get what I'm aiming at?”

My lips pursed in discomfort, a part of me anticipating what she was going to say next.

“Forget the fact that you've both inevitably divided the team working under you.” She said, “You two are the main designers and directors in his company. His two golden geese and the people everyone else look up to. To have you two at odds, having to talk to you both separately, it's not right. It's not a sustainable relationship for a company.”

 I understood it. Of course I did. Thinking about it from that point of view sent a wave of shame and guilt through me.

"It's worked out well enough so far.” I grumbled under my breath.  

“I know B.” she sighed, face easing into warmth “but maybe that's what’s being taken into account. I think this isn't some big scheme of Zayn's or a deficiency of your work but your boss’ way of trying to resolve things. Maybe he believes that if you two work together under pressure you guys can resolve the tension. Knowing that, instead of fighting it, wouldn't it be better to give it a try?”

Her words echoed Gideon's. No matter how reluctant I was, I couldn't deny it.

Unable to say anything, I slumped against the couch, hollowed out and weary.

“Just consider it. Besides, it's already December. We can't have you wasting time,” Emma said, her voice lifting with cheer. “Think, the faster you deal with the proposal, the faster you can travel here and see your little nephew properly. Danny’s been eager to see his cool interior designer aunt from the city.”

“Danny’s just a baby.”

“And? That makes it better, no?” she smiled. “Once you take one look at him, you'll forget all about our stress, ‘stiff asshole Zayn Olsen’ included.”

Her words were meant to tease, but a lump formed in my throat. Because it was the truth.

I missed them so much and wanted to see them face to face so badly. Jason, Emma and their baby. My family. 

Deep seated longing tugged in my chest, making me ache.

“I’ll think about it.” I said in the end. Emma nodded approvingly, easing the tension in my chest. Seconds later, her gaze veered off camera.

“Its too quiet. I'm a little suspicious.” She frowned, turning to me. “I need to check on Jason and Danny, make sure nothing reckless is going on.”

“Who are you worried about?  Jason or the baby?” I teased playfully.

“Hardy har har.” She rolled her eyes and smiled warmly, “I'll talk to you later. Jason's already been in the figurative dog house for long enough. I need to give his phone back and comfort him.”

“Too much info. I do NOT need any details of how you want to do that.” I said, “Tell him I love him and I DID hear everything, ‘lovesick dog’ mode included. He should prepare for the torment I'll sic on him when I get there.”

“He will be warned. Goodnight B.”

“Night Em.”

The video call ended and my phone screen turned blank, leaving only my reflection under warm lights. Letting my phone fall, I looked up at the ceiling, Emma and Gideon's words swirling in my mind.

Somehow, within less than a week, I was supposed to not only make peace with Zayn Olsen—a temporary truce at least—but work out and improve the proposal with him.

If only it was as simple as they said.

With the way we acted, it was easy for some to assume that we'd been going at it for ages, probably held a longstanding grudge that sparked years. I heard the rumors especially amongst the newer recruits, even though I pretended not to. Some speculated that we were childhood sweethearts whose relationship turned sour — Seriously? We were several years apart and didn't even go to the same college — while others believed that I'd asked him out or vice versa not long after entering and the rejection caused the split. The most common speculation was that I'd been jealous of him when he arrived sharing the same position as me, afraid of him threatening my position.

None of them were true.

I didn't intend to hate him at first. In fact, I hadn't hated him at all back when he first entered Huntington.

The first time I'd heard of him was as a budding graduate and intern years ago. A former graduate of a top school, Zayn Olsen was one of the youngest designers within Rutner Interiors, a highly funded design company. He was practically seen as a dark horse when it came to the interior design works. I hadn't interned there and never met him in person, but it was impossible to escape his name when it came to the interior design industry within the city. 

But there was no time to idolize him. I was too busy to do so, when I left to join Huntington, taking on and taking on multiple projects with limited staff and resources. 

Then, right as Huntington had grown to a comfortable position within the industry and was gaining recognition, a sudden announcement quietly spread. Despite his success in Rutner, he'd suddenly resigned less than two years into being there. A month later, Gideon brought me into his office and informed me that Zayn would be coming to Huntington as a new design director, working alongside me as equals. 

I wasn't bothered or resentful then. Quite the opposite. I was ecstatic. 

I could admit through the recognition and pride that I couldn't handle everything on my own. Knowing of his reputation, I also hoped to learn a little from him. I couldn't fully understand why he would go from working from a high tier company down to theirs but it didn't stop me from being eager to welcome him. 

I'd even fantasised about how it would be. Us working together as partners, bouncing through ideas with him alongside the team, making jokes about troublesome clients, sharing stories about our past education and experiences. 

Us entering into each other's offices, talking in private. Working late into the night, drawing closer until…

I snapped out of THOSE fantasies. Unlike the rest they were only born from seeing his admittedly handsome face, although my impression of said face was in the gutters now. 

Altogether, back then I had a very enthusiastic opinion of him and wanted to make him feel welcome.

And I did. The first day he came in, I was the one who met up with him and gave him the tour of the place. Despite my anxiety I'd been friendly, introducing him to the staff and most of the team whilst telling him about everything I could think of. 

He'd remained silent through most of it, barely responding despite my attempts to make conversation and get to know him. I'd been anxious, questioning myself if I was doing too much before coming to the conclusion that he was just guarded and taciturn. It was an environment for him after all.

That was what I thought, until when we stopped the tour in his office he suddenly gave me a once-over, as if sizing me up and spoke. 

‘I don't know how you got this position dressed like…that.’  He'd said, ‘Next time, spare me the rambling and get to the point, if there is one.’

I was taken aback and hurt then. Had it been anyone else, any other situation, I wouldn't have hesitated to give him a piece of my mind. I always had a knack for being stubborn and quick to anger, maturity be damned.

But despite said nature, I'd remained calm, even making excuses for him that it was just a passing comment. He was abrasive, or irritated.

 It was ridiculous to think about now.

In the days that followed, any excuses I had crumbled. He was cold, moody and hostile. Every attempt to talk to him was shunned. Even when I laid suggestions or invited him for lunch, he would immediately bristle, dismissing me coldly.

 Five days. That was how long it took for the novelty and  my patience to wane, and it happened on the worst occasion as well. 

Him shunning me or disliking my attitude in private was one thing. But then our first joint meeting with the team arrived and when I gave off suggestions regarding a new project, he'd not only rejected it but mocked me in front of all my subordinates.

Obviously I wouldn't take it lying down. And so under everyone's shocked and horrified looks, I'd slapped him twice and clapped back, blowing up in rage at his frozen stunned face. 

If someone asked about the details of what I said while seeing red then, I couldn't recall. I only remembered leaving unsatisfied and angry as I reported him to Gideon and stormed out of the building soon after— work hours had ended then.

A weekend of cooling off later,  I returned to the office to find him gone.  A part of me wondered if he'd quit or Gideon had fired him. Half a week passed before he returned, issuing a public apology with a cold expression that clearly looked unapologetic. It wasn't until Gideon spoke to me that I understood. 

He wasn't sorry. He was just doing it to keep himself in Gideon’s good shoes.

After that I only aimed to avoid him, working separately and ignoring any of his performative gestures which thankfully ended two weeks later. 

Even then, I still tried to keep things cordial. In my eyes, he might be an asshole with his arguably utilitarian tastes in designing, but he was still an equal, a talented designer, and a valuable member of Huntington. I couldn't imagine what Gideon had time to convince him to come here, but I didn't want to jinx it either for his sake. Even if we couldn't collaborate, at least we could work together in some way.

That was what I thought, until he'd done the worst thing imaginable. 

That day, I was working out terms with Mr Bentley, a new prospective client who'd specifically asked for me after several attempts in assertively convincing and pitching proposals via email. He'd purchased a new office building and had asked me to handle the refurbishing into an office space. It was arguably a big job then, one I'd grasped with my own efforts. 

At that point, we'd already spoken through video meetings and were already planning to check out the site. Out of my sheer joy, word had also gotten to Zayn. I thought nothing of it at the time, until during what was the first direct preliminary meeting where they came to the office, everything changed. 

Mid-meeting, I’d left to pick up some extra sample plans, passing by Zayn on the way. In my rush I'd offhandedly told him that Mr Bentley and some of his team were present in the meeting room before leaving. Minutes later, I'd returned to find out that Mr Bentley and his team were gone. 

I was confused at first, even asking around to understand what happened but nobody around was present or had a clue. It wasn't until I sent an email to Mr Bentley that I'd received his scathing response, revealing everything.

And it all led up to Zayn.

Zayn—freaking—Olsen sabotaged my project. According to him, after I left, Zayn came in and dissuaded them, disparaging my work and calling me an ‘overachieving intern with all mouth and no skills’. Thus, they'd decided that Huntington wasn't for them and decided to go elsewhere.

It hit like a truck, cracking through all my defenses. The feeling of being blindsided but most of all, pain, was something I couldn't forget. Many industries were cutthroat, interior design was no different, yet the sheer insult and betrayal that someone I considered a colleague could do this hurt.

So I confronted him in his office. I didn't want to believe it. That someone could be so underhanded, ESPECIALLY someone like him who had enough accolades. Surely he wouldn't be so cruel to sabotage and insult me.

 But to my surprise, he wasn't even ashamed of admitting it. He’d even been smug, saying he'd done me a favour. I'd blown up, arguing directly at him for the first time. It escalated to no end until he'd said those words I could never forget.

‘Are you so desperate for a project? Why? So someone finally claps for you and says you're skilled? To make you feel validated? That's not ambition. That's desperation and it's pathetic.’ he'd said, ‘I would have thought someone like you would have some self respect and understand your place, but I suppose I was wrong.’