Just then, the door swung open, and the president walked in, his presence filling the room with authority.
Airam stood automatically.
"Hello, sir," she said, keeping her voice steady.
"Miss Airam," the president greeted warmly. He gestured toward the couch. "I suppose you've already met my son, Harry Johnson. He is the CEO of this company."
Airam's smile froze. His son? Her heartbeat tumbled painfully into her stomach.
"Your son?" she managed, forcing professionalism into her expression even as everything inside her curled up in disbelief. "I see."
The president continued, unaware of the silent storm between them.
"Well, Harry will also be leading the Acacia project. So you'll be working directly with him."
He flipped through a folder on his desk. "Your flights are booked. You and the team will leave for Homalia this weekend."
Airam nodded mechanically.
Her mind wasn't in the room anymore, just trying to hold itself together long enough to escape. She could see Harry gazing at her the whole time with the same stern look. It was intense. Airam avoided his gaze as much as she could. She refused to be intimidated by him.
As soon as she stepped outside the building, the air hit her like a wave. She wanted to crumble right there on the pavement.
I need someone to talk to… someone who won't judge me.
But she had no one. She couldn't tell her sisters, not when they relied on her strength.
So she ended up at a dim bar on the corner of the street, sitting alone on a high stool.
The drink in front of her had been untouched for an hour, the ice already melting, the glass sweating under her fingertips.
She had never tasted alcohol in her life. She wasn't even sure why she ordered it.
Maybe because today, for the first time, she felt like she needed something, anything that could silence the ache in her chest.
She was staring blankly at her reflection in the liquid when the door opened again.
Harry walked in. With his friends. Airam's breath caught in her throat as she turned quickly to avoid being seen by him.
"Oh God… what did I do?" she whispered under her breath. "Why me? Why now?" Her frustration spilled like steam.
"When I didn't know him, I never saw him," she muttered quietly. "Now that I do know him, he appears everywhere. Was the world not big enough? Why does he have to be in my face every single second?"
She didn't even realize she was picking up the glass. Didn't realize she had tilted it.
The bitter liquid burned down her throat. She coughed at the harsh taste, frowning in confusion at why anyone would willingly drink such poison.
But it was too late. Her head began to spin, the room tilting left and right.
The bar suddenly had two doors. Two exits. Two ceilings. She tried to walk toward the one on the right. Then the one on the left.
Both felt wrong.
"Why… why are there two?" she murmured, squinting hard, gripping onto the counter for balance.
Her knees wobbled. The world swayed.
And Airam realized far too late that the drink had been much stronger than her heart could handle tonight.
"Airam… are you okay?"
Harry's voice cut through the haze, low, familiar, impossible to mistake even through the fog of liquor.
Airam blinked, trying to steady the two versions of him swaying in front of her.
Her lips curled into a humorless smile.
"What's it to you, huh?" she slurred, pointing a wobbly finger at him. "Isn't the show I post every day enough for you? You want a front-row seat now?"
She hiccuped, half laugh, half bitterness.
"Don't worry, I'll send you pictures every day from now on. You won't miss a thing."
Harry frowned. "Airam, you're drunk. Let me take you home."
"Don't touch me."
Her voice cracked like a whip, sharp, loud enough to make two men at the next table glance over.
Harry froze, hands lifted slightly as if approaching a frightened animal.
He didn't step closer, but he didn't leave either. His jaw tightened, shoulders tense with worry. "Fine," he said quietly. "But I'm not leaving you alone like this."
He pulled out his phone and dialed.
"Jane… please come get her," he said, eyes never leaving Airam.
Airam kept her head down, blinking hard at the spinning lights.
Every now and then, she peeked at Harry from the corner of her eye, then looked away with a small, stubborn frown.
She didn't want him to care. She didn't trust that he did. Minutes later, Jane stormed into the bar, face tight with worry.
She didn't even spare Harry a glance. She went straight to her sister, pulling Airam close and leading her out with quiet strength, the kind that made Harry's chest clench.
He watched from a distance, guilt weighing on him like chains.
Back home, Airam slumped on the couch, head pounding. Her sisters circled around her like anxious birds.
"What happened? Why was he there?"
"Because," Airam whispered, her voice tired and thick with shame, "he's… he's my new boss's son. And also my boss."
A stunned silence settled over the room. Then their faces softened, sympathy washing through them.
Laila took her hand. "Oh, Airam…"
But Jane shook her head firmly. "You're not a quitter. That man will not break you."
Airam inhaled shakily, straightening up despite the dizziness still clinging to her.
"You're right," she said, her voice growing steadier, stronger. "I won't let him affect me. He doesn't exist for me."
Her sisters exchanged uncertain glances, but none of them corrected her.
Because they knew what she didn't, if Harry truly meant nothing, she wouldn't have been hurting this much.