The Smile Behind the Door
by @mimsqueen
— PAST — Weeks After Nazneen’s Return —
By the second week, Nazneen had learned the rhythm of Zaya Designs again, the echo of scissors, the hum of machines, the nervous laughter of interns racing against deadlines.
Her name carried weight in every room, though she didn’t seek it. She just wanted peace and maybe a little purpose. But peace, as she was learning, rarely lasted long.
The Office and the Storm
Monday morning began like any other, sunlight spilling through the tall windows, coffee steaming beside her laptop. Yet there was something different in the air: an energy that crackled quietly.
When Kareem walked in, that energy shifted. He had the kind of presence that made people straighten their backs without knowing why. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, his wristwatch gleaming under the light. The hum of chatter softened as he passed by.
He caught her eye through the glass wall of her office and smiled that practiced, easy smile that always looked half like a secret.
“Morning, boss,” he said, stepping inside.
Nazneen didn’t look up from her papers. “You’re late, Mr. Kareem.”
“Traffic,” he said, dropping into the chair opposite her. “Or maybe the universe just wanted to make you miss me.”
She sighed. “You’re impossible.”
“And yet,” he grinned, “you keep letting me in.”
Their eyes met, and for a heartbeat, the world seemed to narrow just to the faint hum of the air conditioner and the low thud of her pulse.
Then the knock came.
“Ma’am?” Sofia’s voice. Cool. Controlled. “The Lagos client on line one.”
Nazneen nodded. “Thank you, Sofia.”
As Sofia turned away, Kareem’s smile lingered. “She doesn’t like me,” he said softly.
Nazneen’s lips curved faintly. “She doesn’t like anyone who steals attention.”
“Then we’ll get along perfectly,” he murmured.
She looked at him then, really looked at the ease, the flirtation, the intelligence behind his eyes. There was something magnetic about him, dangerous even, but she’d learned her lesson about men who smiled too easily.
“Focus on the work, Kareem,” she said firmly.
“Always,” he replied. “But don’t confuse focus for blindness.”
She pretended not to hear.
Afternoon Shadows
By noon, the office buzzed with the rhythm of a busy day. Staff moved in and out of her office carrying sketches, samples, and reports. Kareem stood before the design board, explaining something to two junior stylists, his voice low, confident.
Sofia, from her desk, watched every move.
Every glance he threw toward Nazneen’s office.
Every laugh sounded just a little too easy.
Her fingers tightened around her pen until it snapped.
Nazneen emerged a moment later, holding a file. “Sofia, could you arrange a call with the Abuja client for tomorrow?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Sofia replied with a polite smile.
But as soon as Nazneen walked back into her office, Sofia leaned closer to Kareem, voice dripping with practiced sweetness. “Careful, boss lady’s not someone you want to cross.”
Kareem chuckled. “Who said I wanted to cross her?”
“I can see it,” she whispered. “You like challenges. But that woman… she doesn’t fall easily.”
“Maybe she’s just waiting for the right person to push hard enough,” he said softly, meeting Sofia’s gaze.
For a second, the air between them changed heavy, electric. Sofia stepped back, lips tight.
“You play too much,” she muttered.
“And you think too much,” he replied, walking away.
But as she watched him go, Sofia felt something twist in her chest a fear she refused to name.
A Past That Won’t Sleep
That night, Nazneen worked late again. The rest of the building slept; only her office light burned. She liked it that way, the quiet helped her forget.
She flipped through old files, running her fingers over her father’s handwriting. He’d always believed she was meant for greatness. He’d never seen what the world did to her after he died.
Her eyes wandered to the framed photo on the shelf, a little girl smiling in her arms. Naila.
Her throat tightened. “My baby,” she whispered. “Are you warm tonight?”
A knock broke the silence.
She wiped her tears quickly. “Come in.”
Kareem leaned against the doorframe, holding two cups of coffee. “You should go home, Nazneen. It’s almost midnight.”
“I’m used to long nights,” she said without looking up.
He placed the coffee gently beside her. “Still doesn’t mean you should keep punishing yourself.”
She froze. “Excuse me?”
He hesitated, realizing he’d gone too far. “I just mean… You work like you’re trying to drown something. I’ve seen that look before.”
She stared at him, caught between anger and surprise. “You don’t know me, Kareem.”
“Maybe,” he said softly. “But I’d like to.”
The air thickened again. She hated how easily he broke through her walls, how a single word from him could make her pulse quicken.
“Good night, Kareem,” she said, standing abruptly.
He smiled faintly. “Good night, Nazneen.”
When he left, she leaned against the desk, eyes closed. “Don’t do this to yourself,” she whispered. “Not again.”
But her heart didn’t listen.
Dreams That Bleed
Sleep didn’t come easily that night. When it did, it came with ghosts.
In her dream, she was back in her old house, the one before her marriage. The rain drummed against the roof, and Ajeed stood in the doorway, his eyes the same as the boy who once stole her first kiss.
He said her name softly. “Zeen.”
Her lips trembled. “Why do you keep coming back?”
“Because you never let me go,” he said.
Then the thunder cracked, and she saw blood on his hands, bright, shocking.
She tried to scream, but no sound came.
When she jolted awake, the room was dark and her skin was damp with sweat. The call to prayer echoed faintly in the distance. She pressed a hand to her chest, whispering, “Ya Allah… what’s happening to me?”
The Phone Call
That morning, while sipping cold coffee and fighting off sleep, her phone buzzed. Unknown number.
She hesitated, then answered.
Static. Then silence.
“Hello?” she said, voice low.
Nothing. Just breathing. Slow. Familiar.
Her fingers tightened around the phone. “Who’s this?”
Still no answer, then a faint whisper. Her name.
“...Nazneen…”
Her blood ran cold. “Who is this?” she repeated.
The line went dead.
She sat there frozen, the dial tone humming like a warning.
Through the window, the city was waking cars, noise, life, but inside her, something dark and old had just stirred again.
The Smile Behind the Door
Later that day, as she entered the office, she caught a glimpse through the half-open conference door of Kareem standing too close to Sofia, their voices low. Sofia’s hand brushed his sleeve.
When he turned and saw Nazneen, his expression didn’t change. He just smiled that same unreadable, disarming smile.
“Morning,” he said lightly, as if nothing existed outside that moment.
Nazneen nodded, her heart oddly heavy.
She walked to her office, closed the door, and leaned against it, breath shallow.
From the corridor, Kareem’s laughter echoed smooth, charming, and dangerous.
And though she couldn’t see him anymore, that smile, the one behind the door, stayed with her all day.