Ayla's POV
"Why is she calling me to her office?" I muttered under my breath, pushing myself slowly out of my chair as the meeting room began to empty. Everyone else seemed to have places to be, papers in hand, conversations already shifting to the next task. I lingered for a moment, gripping my laptop tightly — the report from the meeting still open, notes and scribbles from Elena's strategy plan staring back at me.
Straightening my blazer, I began toward her office, my heels clicking softly against the polished floor. My mind raced, replaying her words, her tone, the way she had handled the meeting. It wasn't unusual for her to call me in, but for some reason, I didn't feel comfortable. Maybe it was the residue of old high school anxieties, PTSD she had left in me, and I had never fully admitted to myself.
