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.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBzutG06kMY
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.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡx1tNSKnSGF
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.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡguTkU0JGwt
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.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡpZ1YVaVYdp
"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.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvVS9wzB1nO
But he hadn't run it by me.
No clearance.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ9Hie4Yd0lh
No discussion.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhlNkNdXrme
Just initiative dressed as insubordination.
He thought he was helping.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡa76xbmwGcy
He thought he was showing leadership.
What he did was make me look inconsistent.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPaY19YG2UM
It wasn't just a mistake.
It was a misstep.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡWCytGtOU1M
And now it was mine to clean up.
My father didn’t care who sent the email. Only that it came from my team.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡSdPpjgz31K
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.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ8NFgPNRIKo
No acknowledgement. No signal.
Nothing.
He sat back.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5T6jhLfgDG
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.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡKETMfH45IC
A neatly trimmed beard. Strong jaw. Quiet confidence.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡyt83Z3imUB
Composure carved into muscle and silence.
He looked good.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBhJ3ZS5Vpb
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.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxkUHAIG62o
Not if he couldn’t hold it together when it counted.
When we reached the implementation forecast, I paused.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGtW1Amjgc3
Clicked the next slide.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡOqNHMYQvvs
Turned my attention directly to him.
I took a breath. Not to steady myself.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡpxVSlWPcAx
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.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡWO925x1G7X
He didn't argue. Didn't offer another word.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtW4hz6Vzs3
But I saw it—the flicker of something under the surface.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡEBShETMwVp
Pride. Frustration. Maybe even anger.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡoN3iQ3rzWf
He swallowed it down.
He nodded once.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡf30bzRYjbs
Tight. Controlled.
It was all he could do.
You’re supposed to correct in private. Preserve someone’s dignity.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrl3IelekXG
But leadership wasn’t always about what you’re supposed to do.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡR70x1gEwuN
Sometimes it was about what the room needed.
I let the moment hang.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPFgt87cCoC
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.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡzGsabr33Hq
Not pale. Not shaken.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4vC5p3alMS
Just boiling beneath the surface.
He didn't fidget. Didn't flinch.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqn04KUTf0E
But there was something in the way he stared at the table like it owed him an apology.
I saw it.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡsanefoGyaq
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.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡEafZHdddjX
Not right away.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡoAGTNZyejV
Like he thought maybe I’d change my mind.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡsduRH9SYtt
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.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwyQqvqNXcQ
"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.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡkxu1ooTYZA
“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.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmR8QzrSIgW
Not to explain.
Just to see if he was still standing where I left him.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ9UEHBsQXS3
And if the fire I lit was still burning behind his eyes.
Ibtigha’a wajh Allah.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡgmaK6ZEpRb
Striving for Allah’s approval.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡgLMSJOMOyf
That’s what it’s supposed to be.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5JMl3fwt7x
Not anger. Not ego.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡpyahHDrezb
Not the burn still sitting in my chest.
And definitely not the part of me that wanted him to hurt.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCTGCLFc8tD
Just enough to remember where we stand.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Lamija is calm.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5ky1575PzA
Lamija is composed.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3oFJ3JaF0a
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:9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbVDrRNjMdE
✔ Public professionalism9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡoLgJFBpglg
✔ Private rage9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYeOYpDOozB
✔ And a leadership style somewhere between sabr and scorched earth
Ayub showed up dressed for war.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPJb8DxgUCm
Unfortunately for him, so did Lamija.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1FKmRQ866R
And Talha? He showed up for lunch and accidentally walked into the fallout.
Thanks for reading.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ8XCNWaHr7X
Please make du’a for Ayub.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ8bUjOz4JgD
He’s still standing—but just barely.
9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNKLJ8KTimG
