x
It was nearly 11 a.m. on Friday, and the room was already half full.
Mugs in hand. Laptops open. The kind of low murmur that always hung in the air before a full-staff meeting. The analysts looked alert. Emir was already at the end of the table, reviewing something I'd emailed him an hour ago. I stood near the screen, tapping through the opening slide deck. Clean. Structured. Ready.
Then Ayub walked in.
Five minutes early.11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡP9jtiiXtUb
Confident. Not cocky. But lighter—like someone who thought a smile over coffee meant something more than it did.
And he'd dressed like it, too.
Charcoal suit. New, or newly tailored—finally sitting right on his shoulders. Crisp white shirt, top button done. Navy tie, the right width, clean knot. Polished oxfords. Matching leather watch strap. Not flashy. Not loud.
Intentional.
I knew what it looked like when a man dressed for power.11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡKoeX0C23AK
And I knew what it looked like when a man dressed for me.
He caught my eye as he took his seat near the front. Held it for a beat longer than necessary. There was the hint of a smile there—quiet. Almost sure.
Like we were good.
I didn't return it.
Not because I was holding onto the café.11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPFXJ0oqKY9
I hadn’t walked away from that table with anything I didn’t mean to leave behind.
But because my phone had buzzed two minutes earlier with an email from my father.
Subject line: Kovač timeline revision.
The body was short. Direct.11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjYBzVtcMrD
"Inconsistent communication with clients is unacceptable. I expect better from your team—and from you. Leadership is an amanah. Treat it like one."
He'd attached an email Ayub sent.
I read it twice. Jaw tightening with every line.
Ayub had softened my numbers. Adjusted the Q2 delivery timeline. Framed it as a slight extension—measured, diplomatic.11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxU9NXcMRmE
But he hadn't run it by me.
No clearance.11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡArgOwWsA1E
No discussion.11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡeNI7TAeGzf
Just initiative dressed as insubordination.
He thought he was helping.11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbn9sDMGIh8
He thought he was showing leadership.
What he did was make me look inconsistent.11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXpMRRnCKdw
It wasn't just a mistake.
It was a misstep.11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡajY6FqJVpX
And now it was mine to clean up.
My father didn’t care who sent the email. Only that it came from my team.11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡWzrqkBEH0z
Which meant it came from me.
Emir leaned in slightly. "Everything alright?"
I didn't answer.
Ayub must've sensed something, because when I glanced up, he was watching me—brows slightly drawn, eyes searching. The faintest shift in his expression, like he was about to ask.
What's wrong?
I didn't give him the chance.
I looked straight past him, back to the screen.11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡm0QE5pKbri
No acknowledgement. No signal.
Nothing.
He sat back.11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡKp67yJt5Fs
Didn't ask again.
Good.
Because I didn't trust myself to answer without burning it all down.
I let the room settle. Let the conversations drop. Let the click of mugs and shuffle of chairs give way to stillness.
Then I stood.
"Let's get started."
I moved through the updates like usual—quick, direct, unbothered. A few minor redirections. Emir filled in where needed. The team was alert. Focused. Efficient.
And Ayub?
He was polished. Sharp suit, clean lines, perfect posture. His shirt collar was smooth, his tie properly set, and his responses clipped and precise. He spoke when prompted—measured, intelligent, completely in control.
And underneath all that—
Broad shoulders. Solid frame. The kind of strength you didn’t need to show off to feel.11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXnjkPGtmpT
A neatly trimmed beard. Strong jaw. Quiet confidence.11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡijs15imGmq
Composure carved into muscle and silence.
He looked good.11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7MLAimbXQk
Too good.
And that—that was what made it worse.
Because if I hadn't opened that email this morning, I might've looked at him and thought he was exactly where he belonged. Like he'd earned the seat. The respect. The authority.
But I had opened it.
And all I saw now was a man who looked like a solution—while quietly becoming a problem.
It didn’t matter how good he looked in a room.11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡnnjp8kfoFV
Not if he couldn’t hold it together when it counted.
When we reached the implementation forecast, I paused.11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1KtQtexzYG
Clicked the next slide.11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡRhRlpuDsa2
Turned my attention directly to him.
I took a breath. Not to steady myself.11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡL82dqY6EgK
To cut clean.
"Selimović."
He straightened. "Yes?"
I didn't raise my voice. I didn't need to.
"Did you revise the Q2 target delivery timeline in your follow-up to Kovač?"
The room stilled. Every movement halted like someone had hit mute.
Ayub hesitated. Just barely.
"Yes. I gave them an extra week. Based on the supplier report we got Thursday morning, I thought—"
"Did you clear that with me?"
His jaw tensed. "No. But I thought it was minor enough not to disrupt the projection. The client seemed—"
"But it disrupted my promise to the client."
I stepped forward. Calm. Controlled.
"I don't care if you thought it was minor. I don't care if you thought it made you look smart or measured or diplomatic. What you did was undermine alignment, and make me look like I padded numbers I don't pad. Not ever."
He opened his mouth again—small, hesitant. "I was trying to protect delivery margins. I didn't think it would reflect—"
"You didn't think," I cut in. "That's the problem."
Silence.
And this time, he didn't try again.
The team was silent.
"I put my name on those targets," I said. "And you walked them back without consulting me. If you're going to dilute my delivery, do it in front of me. Not after I've stepped out of the room."
Ayub's jaw flexed.11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡAxQzjmohNX
He didn't argue. Didn't offer another word.11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡWmIfg95PfG
But I saw it—the flicker of something under the surface.11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCQIw5mMraj
Pride. Frustration. Maybe even anger.11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡlR59XwigwR
He swallowed it down.
He nodded once.11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7YMHBGJIPx
Tight. Controlled.
It was all he could do.
You’re supposed to correct in private. Preserve someone’s dignity.11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmNiGNd7lU0
But leadership wasn’t always about what you’re supposed to do.11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQm5GRtNm74
Sometimes it was about what the room needed.
I let the moment hang.11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVmhEERFRcd
Let it sting.
Then I turned away and kept going.
"Emir, pull the original projection into the deck. We'll circulate a revised brief by end of day."
"Got it," Emir said.
Ayub said nothing.
He stayed in his seat—shoulders tight, jaw locked.11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmGoKsppQIc
Not pale. Not shaken.11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡykHuoh6gbM
Just boiling beneath the surface.
He didn't fidget. Didn't flinch.11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqBWSf1KoTF
But there was something in the way he stared at the table like it owed him an apology.
I saw it.11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6v4WfGRiyI
I didn't let it sway me.
The rest of the meeting passed in silence. No one joked. No one lingered. By the time we adjourned, the room emptied faster than usual.
I closed my laptop. Stood.
He was still sitting.
Waiting.
I didn’t look at him, but I felt it—the weight of him wanting to speak. The tension radiating off him like heat.
“A word?” he asked, voice low.
I didn’t stop moving.
“Not right now.”
Flat. Sharp.
He didn’t move.11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡLs08EMiJ0h
Not right away.11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbxlQBC67zD
Like he thought maybe I’d change my mind.11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡeSRkoP02Rg
I didn’t.
I didn’t give him anything else..
Not until I heard the door open behind us.
“Th-there she is,” Talha said, all ease and grin. “R-ready for l-lunch?”
My shoulders relaxed a fraction.
“Give me two minutes,” I said, already grabbing my phone.
Talha looked tired—like the kind of tired that sleep didn’t fix.
He was in dark jeans and a black T-shirt. The jeans were expensive. Structured. Designer cut. The kind I’d bought him two months ago after telling him if he showed up to one more family dinner in sweats, I was going to set them on fire.
And now he was wearing them to load trucks.
There was dust on one leg, a grease smudge near the pocket. His T-shirt clung to his shoulders, stretched slightly at the collar. Boots scuffed from the dock. Every part of him looked like he’d just come off shift.
And still—somehow—it worked on him.
I crossed my arms. “Are you serious?”
He blinked. “W-what?”
“Those are not dock jeans.”
“They’re p-pants, aren’t th-they?”
I exhaled through my nose. “You’re unbelievable.”
Still, I reached out and dusted off his shoulder—cardboard grit clinging to the black cotton.
He didn’t move. Just let me do it, like he always had.
"N-nice tie," he added, teasing. "Y-you let h-him live?"
"Barely," I muttered.
But I hated how quickly Ayub looked away when he did.
Ayub stood slowly. Not a sound, not a word. Just gathered his things with careful precision.
As he reached the door, Talha looked at him—really looked.
"Y-you g-good?" he asked, low.
Ayub didn't look at either of us.11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡeoOV0SHjDg
"Not the time," he said. Voice tight. Flat.
Talha didn't push.
Ayub walked out.
I watched him go.
Talha watched me.
"Th-that bad, huh?"
I shrugged.11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNkNOi8Hj9k
“C-come on,” he said, holding the door open with his shoulder. “I’m st-starving.”
I grabbed my bag, adjusted the strap, smoothed the edge of my blazer like it hadn't wrinkled.
"Let's go."
We stepped into the hallway. The door clicked shut behind us.
And I didn't look back.
But part of me wanted to.
Not to apologize.11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡlYfiO6mtUI
Not to explain.
Just to see if he was still standing where I left him.11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGFOIOpcVCH
And if the fire I lit was still burning behind his eyes.
Ibtigha’a wajh Allah.11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ521JnR9YAc
Striving for Allah’s approval.11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡHGfnxKNvpV
That’s what it’s supposed to be.11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhxIEy8dktu
Not anger. Not ego.11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIQfU1tNQkJ
Not the burn still sitting in my chest.
And definitely not the part of me that wanted him to hurt.11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡa7mXOPqS3j
Just enough to remember where we stand.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Lamija is calm.11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4Lolhdgg5m
Lamija is composed.11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmd858CQSjC
Lamija absolutely did not torch a man’s soul in front of a full staff meeting because he made her look inconsistent on a Friday.
This chapter was brought to you by:11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡRIVorhKsiY
✔ Public professionalism11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtsNgdRE4en
✔ Private rage11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡMcsN1mOJDC
✔ And a leadership style somewhere between sabr and scorched earth
Ayub showed up dressed for war.11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPV22BabbS2
Unfortunately for him, so did Lamija.11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6N11HzLGXF
And Talha? He showed up for lunch and accidentally walked into the fallout.
Thanks for reading.11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtvantJqkwv
Please make du’a for Ayub.11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtsDr12154Y
He’s still standing—but just barely.
11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ40izMecgvF
