2

Ayrah pov 

I stepped into my office like I always did, quiet, measured, untouched by whatever chaos existed outside those walls.

Everything was in place, Neat, Clean, Controlled.

Just the way I liked it.

My heels clicked softly against the tiled floor as I walked to my desk. The document waiting there caught my attention immediately. I picked it up, flipping through the pages with steady fingers, my eyes scanning every line.

No mistakes.

There was never room for mistakes.

I had just reached for another file when my phone rang.

I didn't hesitate. "Hello."

"Ma, there is a fight downstairs."

The line barely finished before I ended the call.

A fight?

In my company?

My jaw tightened.

I pushed my chair back and walked out immediately, my steps quick but still controlled. I didn't run. I never ran.

Hawra was at her desk, typing away like nothing was wrong.

"Come with me," I said without stopping.

She looked up instantly and stood, grabbing her iPad as she hurried after me.

"There's a fight downstairs," I added as we approached the elevator.

Hawra pressed the button. "Fight?"

I turned my head slowly and looked at her.

That look again.

Sharp. Unamused.

"Is that a question?" I asked.

She blinked. "Yeah... I'm just curious..."

I held her gaze.

Not blinking. Not softening.

Her shoulders dropped slightly. "Sorry, ma."

Of course.

The elevator doors slid open, and we stepped in. The silence between us was thick, interrupted only by the faint hum as it descended.

I stared straight ahead.

But inside...

Who dared?

The moment the elevator doors opened, noise rushed in.

Voices. Murmurs. Tension.

Employees had gathered in a loose circle, whispering among themselves like they were watching a show.

I stepped forward.

"Excuse me," I said, my voice calm but carrying enough authority to cut through the noise. "What is happening here?"

The crowd parted slightly.

And then I saw her.

My breath didn't hitch, but something inside me did.

She was already looking at me.

Waiting.

"I'm Ayrah Majid Sa'af," I said, my chin lifting slightly. "The owner of this company."

Her eyes widened.

"You?" she said, her voice laced with disbelief. "Where have you been all this time?"

Her gaze dragged slowly from my head down to my shoes... then back up to my face, like she was measuring me.

Judging me.

"No wonder he has been hiding the owner of this company from me."

My fingers brushed lightly over the fabric of my gown, smoothing it out before I folded my arms under my chest.

A small, humorless chuckle left my lips.

"What issue did you have with my employee?" I asked.

"Ma, it was just a mistake..." one of my staff rushed to explain.

I didn't even look at her.

"Are you Miss Azeeza?" I cut in sharply, my eyes still fixed on the woman in front of me. "I'm talking to her. Not you."

Silence.

The kind that presses down on everyone at once.

Azeeza stared at me like she was seeing a stranger.

Of course she was.

She only knew the girl I used to be.

Soft. Quiet. Easy to overlook.

This version of me?

She didn't know her.

"It's nice seeing you, Ayrah," she said finally, adjusting her glasses.

I rolled my eyes slowly.

"It's not nice seeing you at all."

Her lips pressed into a thin line.

That look, that audacity, flashed across her face.

For a moment, I thought she would say something else.

Something worse.

Instead, she turned and walked away.

Just like that.

My body reacted before my mind did, I almost stepped forward to stop her.

Almost.

But I didn't.

Cameras.

Phones.

The news.

The last thing I needed was another headline.

My eyes shifted briefly toward the CCTV camera in the corner.

I would check it later.

If she was at fault, she would answer for it.

But not here.

Not like this.

"Everyone," I said, my voice slicing through the air again, "back to work."

They scattered immediately.

"And apologize to the customers."

No one argued.

No one delayed.

I turned and walked back toward the elevator, Hawra following closely behind me, her steps quicker to match mine.

The doors closed behind us.

Silence again.

But this one was heavier.

"Ma..." Hawra started carefully. "Who is that lady? And why does it look like you two have history?"

I turned my head slowly.

There it was again.

That question.

That curiosity.

That line she kept crossing.

"Hawra," I said, my voice low.

She stiffened.

"Where do you get the audacity to ask me things?"

She immediately looked away. "Sorry, ma."

I didn't look away "No," I continued, my tone even colder now. "I want to know. Tell me, where does it come from?"

She said nothing.

Her fingers tightened around the edge of her iPad.

The elevator hummed quietly as it moved.

One floor.

Two.

Three.

Still silence.

I watched her from the corner of my eye.

Then finally...

The doors opened.

I walked straight back to my office without waiting for her, my steps steady, my expression unchanged. The door closed behind me with a soft click, sealing the quiet I preferred.

A few minutes later, there was a knock.

I didn't answer, but the door opened anyway.

Hawra stepped in, holding a small gift bag like it meant something important. It always did, to her.

"Ma, I brought you a gift," she said, her voice carrying that same brightness she never seemed to run out of.

I leaned back slightly in my chair, my fingers resting on the edge of my desk as my eyes moved from her face to what she was wearing. A long skirt, neatly pressed. A simple top. Her veil tied properly, not a strand out of place.

She always looked... put together.

Too soft for this place.

"Let me guess," I said, my tone flat as I stretched my hand toward the file in front of me. "The note inside says I should always smile."

She lit up immediately. "Yeah."

Of course.

I let out a quiet breath, shaking my head faintly. "Why do you write that in every gift?"

She hesitated for a second, then answered honestly, like she always did. "I've never seen you laugh before... or cry."

My hand paused.

Slowly, I looked up at her.

Her smile faltered just a little under my gaze.

"Oh, it's not like I want you to cry," she added quickly, almost tripping over her words, but still managing to smile.

I held her eyes for a moment longer than necessary.

"Don't ever pray to see me laugh," I said quietly. "I only laugh when I see wrecked things."

The room fell still.

Even the air felt heavier.

She didn't fully understand what I meant. I could see it in her face. And that was fine.

Some things were not meant to be understood.

"Why do you gift me things?" I asked, my eyes narrowing slightly as I studied her.

She didn't hesitate this time. "Ma, you're nice to me. That's why. And... I really like you."

I let out a soft, humorless scoff. Me nice? 

"Then stop liking me," I said, my voice colder now. "I don't like it when people like me. It irritates me." I watched her carefully.

The way her cheeks dropped just slightly. The way her fingers tightened around the gift bag before loosening again.

It was subtle.

But I noticed.

I always noticed.

For a second, I considered rejecting the gift, telling her to take it back. 

But instead, I looked away.

"Keep it."

The words came out quieter than I intended.

She blinked, surprised, then quickly nodded, holding the bag closer like she had just been given something instead of the other way around.

"Ma... I know you said we shouldn't talk about the news..." 

"Hawra."