Distance

Valeria had barely woken from sleep the next day when someone knocked on her door.

She knew exactly who it was.

Ivan.

She sprang up from the bed, and rushed to the door.  His cologne hit her first, then…

“Be ready in thirty minutes, we’re resuming work today,” he informed, before turning away. "Pack your things," he said over his shoulder. “You’ll leave for your house after work.”

He did not wait for a response.

She stood frozen for a while, staring at his back until he was out of sight, the words settling over her like cold water. Then she swallowed and got back inside to get ready.

“Okay,” she whispered to herself.

By the time she finished dressing, the house felt different, like she was about to depart from an old friend.  She stepped into the living room and discovered that he was gone.

No sound, no sign that he had been there beyond the faint scent of his cologne that still lingered in the air.

Mr. Rufus was the one who greeted her outside.

“Good morning, madam,” he said gently as he opened the car door for her.

“Good morning,” she replied, forcing a small smile.

As he helped her place her bags in the back, she noticed the way his eyes lingered on the luggage for a moment, but he said nothing.

The drive to the office was quiet.

She watched the city pass by, but she was barely really noticing anything, as her mind kept replaying the previous night incident. His hands on her robe, his fingers digging into her thighs. Subconsciously, she allowed her fingers brushed over where his had touched, and she could almost feel his grip. Her heart was racing fast, but she managed to push the thoughts away.

When they arrived, work was already in full motion, but heads turned at her direction, then gazes lowered to her bag.

Her legs suddenly felt heavy under the intense stares as she walked, forcing her chin up.

She placed her things neatly in a corner of a small store where old files were kept.

“Good morning, Sofia Cliff,” the receptionist greeted. “Oh, sorry. Mrs Ravelle," she corrected politely.

Valeria frowned slightly at the sudden change of reference, but she still managed to force a smile.

“Good morning." 

“Your office is the one right beside Mr Crest's office," she informed.

Valeria's jaw dropped. “I have an office?" 

The receptionist shrugged.

“New development from Mr Crest himself." 

“Since when?" 

“This morning, and you're only to go to his office when he calls you." 

Valeria was shocked, but she shrugged if off and resumed her work.

Quickly, she settled into her new office, a small space that could be used as a store.

Sooner desk phone rang, and she picked it up immediately. 

“Good morning, sir.”

“Check the files on your desk, cross-reference them with last quarter’s reports. I want a full summary before noon.”

She blinked. “Sir, those files were already—”

“Before noon,” he repeated, then the line went dead.

She lowered the receiver slowly.

“Alright.”

She turned to the files that  were already organized. She knew that, she had done it herself before he was shot. Still, she opened them again and began. By mid-morning, her eyes were already tired.  The phone rang again.

“Yes, sir.”

“Reprint the documents you submitted yesterday, and adjust the formatting.”

She frowned slightly. “The formatting meets the standard for—”

“Adjust it.”

Then the line went dead again.

She pressed her lips together.

“…Okay.”

She stood, gathered the documents, and walked to the printer. When she returned, she placed the fresh copies neatly on her desk.

Her phone did not ring this time, instead, a short message appeared on her system.

>>Bring it in.

She picked up the files and walked to his office, the door was slightly open.  She knocked softly.

“Come in.”

He did not look up when she entered.

He was seated behind his desk, his attention fixed on the papers in front of him, his expression was calm, unreadable.  She stepped closer and stood there, waiting.

He extended his hand without lifting his head, she hesitated for a brief second, then placed the file into his hand. Their fingers brushed lightly by accident, then he pulled back immediately, like he could contact a deadly disease if he touched her.

“Next time, place it on the table,” he said.

Her hand froze mid-air.

“…I’m sorry.”

He said nothing.

She placed the remaining documents on the desk carefully and stepped back.

“Is there anything else, sir?”

“No, but wait over there,” he said, pointing at the couch. " I might need you soon.”

She turned and walked to the couch, her heartbeat spiking, her knees almost giving out, but she forced them to move.

The day continued slowly, each task he gave came with the same tone, short and distant.

He did not call her by name, he did not look at her. At some point, she stopped expecting him to.

Around noon she still sat in his office, bored. She picked up her phone and checked her messages.

>>Hope your day is going well.

Her shoulders eased slightly, a small smile graced her lips as she read her husband's text.

She stared at the message for a moment before typing back.

<

A few seconds later, her phone buzzed again.

>>Don’t stress yourself too much.

Her smile broadened.

<

She locked her phone and set it aside.

At the same time, Ivan lowered his phone onto the desk.

For a brief moment, his gaze lifted and  landed on her.

She was focused on her fingers, her head slightly bent. She looked scared.

His gaze lingered on her, longer than they should have.  Then he looked away.

When it was time for his meeting, she stood and gathered the necessary files, then they stepped into the hallway together. In silence.

The elevator doors slid open with a soft sound, and they both stepped in.

She stood at her usual spot, hands clasped in front of her.

Slowly, she glanced up at him without meaning to, it was brief and quick, but he noticed.

“Step out.”

Her head turned fully this time.

“Sir?”

He shifted slightly, his gaze finally settling on her, his eyes were cold.

“I don’t like confined spaces,” he said.“Take the next one.”

There was a brief silence, then she nodded.

“Alright.”

She stepped out immediately, and the doors closed between them.

As the elevator began to descend, he exhaled slowly, his jaw tightened.

By the time she arrived downstairs, he was already gone, but a message was waiting for her.

>>Retrieve the archived reports personally.

She stared at it with fraustation.

The archive room was on the far end of the building, and he had a person for that job.

Still, she replied.

<

By the time she returned, the meeting was already in progress.

She placed the reports neatly on her desk and resumed work without a word.

Late afternoon came, her head ached faintly, but she ignored it.

She reviewed one last document before sending it in.

Minutes later, her phone rang.

“Come in.”

She stood immediately and walked to his office.

This time, when she entered, he was looking at her.  She stopped in front of the desk.

“You made an error in this report,” he said, sliding the paper forward.

She picked it up and scanned it quickly.

It was minor. “I’ll correct it now, I'm sorry,” she said.

He paused, watching her, waiting for her to protest, but she didn't argue. She did not try to make an excuse, she simply accepted it.

His fingers tapped once against the desk, then stilled.

“Make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

“Yes, sir.”

She turned to leave.

“Wait.”

She paused.

He seemed to hesitate for a second, then his expression hardened again.

“Prepare tomorrow’s schedule before you leave.”

“Okay, sir." 

She stepped out.

The office felt quieter as the day came to an end.

She returned to her desk, finished the corrections, and organized the next day’s schedule carefully.

When she was done, she gathered her things.

She took one last look at her desk, then turned and walked toward the exit.

Inside his office, he remained he arranged his things and rounded up for the day, then he walked toward the exit. 

Just when she reached his doorway, he was also stepping out at the same time.

They both collided, so hard that she stumbled and fell to the ground.