Semua Bab When My Body Learned Your Name: Bab 41 - Bab 50

CARSONI watched her adjust her seatbelt, fingers brushing nervously over the leather strap, and I felt a small, almost imperceptible tug in my chest. Anna looked like she wanted to say something, yet she hesitated, lips pressed together as though she was measuring the right words—or maybe measuring me. My instinct told me to push, just a little, to draw it out. I tilted my head and let my gaze linger, letting the quiet between us speak for a moment.“Go on,” I murmured, my voice soft, yet commanding enough to nudge her forward.Her eyes flickered to mine, a mixture of surprise and hesitation, before she exhaled shakily. “I… I’m just… really excited,” she admitted finally, a small smile breaking through. “I mean, about the presentation. I got to… present. It was… amazing. I… I’m over the moon.”I couldn’t help the grin that tugged at the corners of my mouth. The way her words spilled out, hesitant but genuine, made me want to lean closer and just… hold her reaction in my hands. She wa

ANNAMy heart skipped—no, lurched—at his words.Enjoy this moment.I didn’t trust myself to say anything else. Not without my voice betraying me, not without something reckless slipping out. So I nodded once, quickly, and turned toward the door before Carson could read too much into my silence.The second I stepped into the hallway, I exhaled.It was the kind of breath that felt like it had been trapped in my lungs for days, maybe weeks. My heels clicked too fast against the floor as I walked—no, rushed—back toward my desk, my pulse still racing, his voice replaying itself in my head like a taunt and a promise wrapped into one.We’ll see.God.I rounded the corner too quickly and collided with a solid presence.“Oof—Anna!”I stumbled back, hands flying up instinctively, only to be steadied by Grace’s firm grip on my arm. She frowned down at me, sharp eyes immediately scanning my face.“Careful,” she said. Then she paused. Looked closer. Her frown deepened. “Why are you blushing?”My s

ANNAThe next morning, the acceptance email feels heavier than it had the night before.Not because I doubt it.Because it’s real.The official letter arrives before nine. Clean formatting. Corporate language. Clear expectations. I read every line twice, just like I had the draft. Personal Investor. Strategic oversight. Independent decision-making authority. Performance benchmarks tied directly to portfolio growth.There’s no training period.No easing in.They expect me to know what I’m doing.I sign the documents electronically, my hand steadier than I expect it to be, and send them back before I can overthink the symbolism of it. The confirmation reply lands within minutes.Welcome aboard.Just like that, my career shifts.The rest of the week moves fast—faster than I anticipate. My calendar fills until the white spaces disappear entirely. Meetings with analysts. Risk briefings. One-on-ones with clients who speak in careful tones about trust and long-term returns. I feel the weight

ANNAThe first time I made the call alone, my hand didn’t shake.That surprised me more than the decision itself.The numbers had been circling my desk for three days—an emerging tech expansion with volatile early indicators and a board divided down the middle. Half of them wanted caution. The other half wanted speed.I wanted timing.“Authorize the phased entry,” I said calmly into the conference line. “But cap exposure at thirty percent for the first quarter. If performance tracks within five percent of projected growth, we escalate. If it dips below the threshold, we freeze.”Silence followed.Measured. Assessing.Then agreement.When the call ended, I sat back slowly, letting the quiet of my office settle around me.It was done.The decision was mine.Not Carson’s. Not Grace’s. Not anyone guiding me from the sidelines.Mine.The next weeks validated it. Performance trended upward. Investor confidence stabilized. The cautious partners began referencing my strategy in other discussi

ANNABy the time we returned from the conference, the air around us had changed.It wasn’t dramatic.No headlines. No public scenes.Just awareness.The kind that moves quietly through corridors and lingers a second too long in people’s expressions.Conversations paused when we entered rooms together. Invitations began arriving addressed jointly without clarification. At meetings, eyes flickered between us before settling carefully on whoever was speaking.They knew.Or at least they suspected.No one said anything outright. They didn’t have to.Proximity tells its own story.I told myself it didn’t matter. That speculation without proof was harmless. That professionalism would shield us.But professionalism had started to feel fragile.Carson didn’t address it directly.He didn’t need to.Instead, he did something unexpected.He took me away.It wasn’t framed as an escape. It wasn’t even presented as personal. He mentioned a coastal property owned by a client we were courting—an info