"Oh please, don't tell me you're going to give him a chance?" Ja said, bouncing her son on her knees.

I gave her a bland look. "He sounded so sincere," and I'd felt like that girl again. The one who dreamed with her eyes open, filled with possibilities of what could have been.

"This is exactly what I was afraid of. He's not your one," she raised her fingers to air quote. Ahmed giggled and tried to grab her hands and I smiled. "He knowingly lead you on, ignored you, took you for granted..."

"We were teenagers," I groaned out, jabbing the mascara wand back into the tube, not wanting to acknowledge the truth in her words.

"And now you're adults."

"People change Ja," she pursed her lips and flipped a strand of her newly dyed hair.

"Honestly Shazi, I don't know why I bother with you. He'll destroy you, just like all those times before. He's an ass."

"He said that himself."

"Classic playboy move."

"I don't have time for this Ja, I asked him to give me some time to think this over," to go over the memories. To see if we'd still have that spark.

"Forget about that, don't you have the company meeting today?"

"Yup, getting ready for that," I muttered, showing her the two blouses I was confused between.

"Wear the burgundy, that'll light up your complexion."

"Thanks."

"I so wish you hadn't walked away. That Waleed seemed interesting,"

Of course she'd liked him. "He wouldn't stop pestering."

"How annoying, someone who's trying to make conversation with a person who lives in his locale and is from the same ethinicty as him. Shocking."

I emerged from the closet, tying my hair up in a half up, half down hairstyle. "Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit."

"You and your Downton Abbey references."

"Gotta go, I'll call you later," I blew a kiss towards the screen. "Bye Ahmed, Khala loves you," Ja made a face but grinned when Ahmed gurgled happily.

Grabbing a croissant, I ran outside into the street, waving goodbye to Francois, who had just gotten in his car. Crap, I was late. Transit was going to be problem today.

Wilkens publications was located in the most expensive and the most coveted location in Paris. Smack dab, right in front of the Eiffel tower. Even after all the years of working in that building, I had never gotten tired of the view. Which meant that transit or any form of transportation, took its time.

I bounded into the building, slightly out of breath, brushing the crumbs away from my lips, happy to see a familiar face. Vivian greeted me near the entrance, her black Louboutins clacking loudly on the marble floor.

Viv, my one true friend at work. She was gorgeous, smart, talented, and had sophistication oozing from her otherwise immaculate pores. She was one hundred percent French, so the sophistication gene was pretty much hardwired into her DNA.

"Bonjour," she breathed out in her throaty voice, handing me a cup of french pressed coffee. "You look nice."

I did a little twirl. "Merci. So what's the damage?"

"Some bigshot from London is here. Arrived in the city a week ago, apparently is an up and comer in the publication circles."

"Uh huh."

"They've signed a JV with Wilkens. So he's technically in charge but he's not the boss. Jean Luc made that pretty clear."

"Poor Jean Luc."

She arched an eyebrow. "I wouldn't say that."

"Why not?" I pulled the doors open. She thanked me as she walked in. "Wilkens is his baby."

"Well rumor has it that he's vying for a position in the London office."

"Really?"

She nodded, her silky black chignon bobbing at the action. "How's the book coming along? You could still present it to Jean Luc. He's eager for that promotion. A hit could change both of your positions."

"I don't know Viv," I muttered, walking into the Conference room, placing my bag on the chair. "I mean, I could ask-"

"Hi," I paused mid-sentence. It couldn't be.

I haltingly turned around and my mouth gaped open.

Why was my life like this? Why, of all the places I could have met him, did it have to be my workplace?

"Bonjour Monsieur Waleed. I'm Vivan Chantal from the Marketing Department."

"Bonjour Vivian," I stared at him, unable to move. "Et tu?" he said, turning his smoldering gaze on me. I shuffled awkwardly, trying not to balk under those velvety brown eyes fringed with long lashes.

There went any hopes of him not recognizing me.

And why did boys get those impossibily long lashes? What did they need them for?

Vivian poked my side and I stuttered out a garbled reply. So much for being an adult.

Thankfully I was saved of any major embarrassment by the stream of employees coming in for the debrief. Introductions were made and connections were formed. The whole meeting passed with my head in the clouds. I didn't think I managed to hear a single word of what was discussed. And the best/worst part was, I wasn't the only one.

"Can I talk to you for a second?" I started and Jean Luc excused himself with a polite smile.

"Sure?" I turned to face the new head. Waleed smirked, his posture relaxed and casual.

God this man was a walking hazard.

Several of my colleagues passed by, their eyes on us, ears perked, faces etched with curiously.

"Hey!" I stood stone faced not wanting to acknowledge him. "No, hello nice to see you?"

"Why am I seeing you at all?" I muttered. His smirk widened and I rolled my eyes. Great, he was amused. He opened his mouth to reply but paused when Jean Luc brushed past him, patting him on the shoulder.

Whatever he was about to say died in that moment. Waleed cleared his throat and began.

"Your department has done some steller work with choosing our best sellers. You've been hitting them out of the park. I'm told you've also headed some of the Marketing campaigns?"

I stared at him, at a loss for words. "Whenever I thought it best to handle them myself, yes," thanks to Viv.

"Have you ever thought about moving to some other place? Somewhere you're not so overworked?"

I crossed my arms, suddenly defensive. "Are you trying to fire me?"

"No. God, why would you think that Shazi?"

"It's been a rough week," his eyes swam with questions but he pressed his lips together. He was a professional, thank God. "Sorry, continue please."

"Can we discuss this over lunch? I have a preposition that you might be interested in."

Why was he making that sound so illicit?

"Why can't we discuss it here?"

"Well, I have another meeting in five minutes and the rest of my day is pretty full."

"Does it have to be today?"

"Do you have an issue with going out with me?"

"No." Yes. Very much so.

His eyes sparkled knowingly and I bit my lip to stop myself from uttering a scathing reply.

"Very well. I'll let you chose the place, since I'm still trying to figure out this city. I'll meet you in the lobby at 12."

I nodded and he walked me out, keeping the door open and gesturing for me to go first.

This seemed right and wrong at the same time. I'd been on work lunches before. But with men I knew. Kind of. This just seemed to be different.

"You're overreacting. So what if you've met before? That makes it better! He's also not directly in a position of power, Jean Luc is, so you're safe from that HR scandal."

"You don't get it Viv," she sighed, her eyes fixed on the file in front of her.

"You think too much. I would have thought that in the past 3 years you would have learnt something from the French," I refrained from pointing out that handsome men rarely ever knocked my door, so I didn't know what I was supposed to learn. "I wish he would have asked me to go out with him! I would have said yes in a heartbeat. Sigh."

"Honestly, you're of no help," I grumbled, diving back into the manuscripts, wishing that I would get swallowed by the Earth. She waved her hand, still focused on her file.

Apparently, just like Viv, Mother Earth was also done with me. Midday struck with all its glory and I was still safe and whole.

"So where are we headed? Another coffee shop?" I slid a narrow look his way and he smiled. "Got it. No references to that."

I walked outside and sighed. The weather was lovely today. The midday sun just warmed up the slightly chilly September air. "In the interest of time, not far from here," his lips quirked and he placed his sunglasses over his eyes.

"To the Eiffel tower?" he exclaimed and I nodded. He'd forgone his suit jacket, so now he strolled with me, his hands in his pockets, his sleeves rolled up till his forearms. The very picture of effortless chic.

"Since you're new, why don't we start with the most Paris thing Paris has to offer?"

"Isn't it touristy?"and extremely public. Not intimate like the coffee shop.

"Consider it as your hello to Paris."

His eyes flickered to mine, understanding swimming at the depths. "Okay. Where to?"

I guided him towards the multitude of cafe's lined in the street, ordering a croissant and watching him struggle with the choices.

"You can have the salad. That's pretty safe," he smiled gratefully and ordered. After the waiter left, Waleed's eyes snagged on my plate and he frowned.

"Is that all you'll eat today?"

"I forgot to cook last night and I was running late today, so yeah."

"I'm still struggling with the cooking thing. I hitched a ride with a friend over the weekend, so I've just got all the desi items stocked up."

"That's good."

"How long have you been here?"

"3 years."

"And your parents let you be?"

"They want me to succeed."

"Lucky," He waited, his eyes expectant. I wasn't going to ask him about his. Nope. That would be personal. I was not doing personal.

After a few silent minutes, I wiped the corner of my mouth and asked. "So, what was your preposition?"

"I've gathered some intel on our in-house authors, photographers etc. Seem's like they're all pretty loyal to you and your vision," I coloured under his admiring gaze. "That's very admirable. You've managed to have quite an impact in the past 3 years."

"It's because I had all the support I needed to succeed."

"It may be so, but your vision and creativity are yours and yours only," I blushed again, the compliments taking me surprise. He took a bite and then swallowed.

"I've already talked to Jean Luc and he seems to agree with me," I looked at him, confused. "What I'm getting at is that my company has decided to launch a digital magazine. Something that reflects the changing nature of today's cultural landscape."

"But we've already got a lot of those."

"We're a publishing house. Books are increasingly going out of fashion. In the end, this whole thing is a business and I want my company to survive. Wilkens has the benefit of being located in Paris and it already has an established base."

I nodded along. "I understand."

"Starting a digital venture right now seems to be the most lucrative option while we are generating enough revenue," he finished his salad in neat little bites and I stared at the sky, thinking about his offer.

"You said I was overworked," I began and he chuckled.

"That I did. But you won't be working as the Artistic Director while you're working on this. You'll be focused on the magazine."

"Who's the head on this project?"

"Me."

I asked for some time to think. I was not going to lose my present job but I would be taking a huge risk. Apart from his dashing good looks, Waleed was an invigorating person to talk to. Someone who was passionate about his profession and someone who was willing to hear other people's ideas. Someone who I would love to work with. He'd already noted down several of my recommendations, his mouth etched into a permanent smile.

And that itself was a huge selling point.

"So he's the new guy? Hahah, this could only happen to you Shazi."

"Not another word Ja. And where is that husband of yours? Nadir's in the corporate sector, he must know about Waleed."

"Why does it matter Shazi?"

"He's too young."

"He's two years older than you."

"How do you know that?" she glanced away, her gaze suddenly snagged by something behind the camera. "Did you google him?"

"Didn't you?"

"I was busy thinking about the opportunity! You stalked him?" She waved her hand dismissively. Now I was curious. What else had she found?

"It's a great way to spread your wings. You could be the next Anna Wintour!"

"Yeah right," Maybe, who knew.

Anna had to die someday. Someone had to take her place. I settled back against the pillows, imagining myself as the first Muslim Pakistani woman Editor-in-Chief of Vogue Magazine. Wouldn't that be a headline?

"Okay, okay, come back from whatever high you're on. You still have to get this magazine off the ground."

"Don't you have anything to do? You're always in my apartment."

"Virtually. And no, Ahmed has finally fallen asleep."

I laughed at her tone. "You're too hard on him, he's such a sweetheart."

"I'll ask you when you have a kid," fat chance. "Besides, you're the eldest, this should have been you."

"Puhlease. You and I both don't care for such nonsense traditions."

"True. When does Mc. Dreamy expect an answer?"

"On Friday. Before the staff meeting."

"You'll be insane to say anything but yes."

"Mama said the same thing."

"Bingo, go for it," somehow I felt like she wasn't just talking about the magazine.

Lying in bed that night, I fished out my phone and opened Google. Should I? I mean it was good to be informed right? He had all his intel about me. This was only fair.

Satisfied with my reasoning, I typed his name into the search bar. The news of the JV between Wilkens and JJ's popped up and I clicked on the link, skimming through the details.

Name: Waleed Khan.
Age: 30 years.
Occupation: Managing Director and heir to the JJ empire.

There was a whole list of awards he'd won during his time as a Managing Director, some handed to him by the Pakistani community, others by his corporate circles.

Competent and ambitious.

That was a dangerous combination. I stared at his pictures. Did this guy not have a bad side? He looked like a professional model in all of them. I dived further, swiping through the pictures and going deep into the local news stories.

Marital Status: Unmarried.

A loud ping had me jumping off the bed as if I were caught doing something illegal.

'Sorry, just saw your message. Got out of surgery'.

I stared at Faizan's message and cursed myself. What was I doing? Who was I? Guilt and disloyalty echoed throughout my veins.

'Hope it was successful. Going to sleep, talk later.'

I was trying to keep it light and casual. He always knew when I lied. Switching off the light, I closed my eyes and went to sleep.

"This is amazing Shazi! You always wanted to do something creative and personal!"

I smiled at him. There it was. The safe feeling of being understood. Of connecting to him. Maybe life was getting back on track.

Faizan had decided to surprise me by grabbing some desi food and meeting me for dinner, sitting on the benches near the Seine.

"When do you start?"

"Well, I haven't given him a formal reply as of yet," he hadn't been in the office this whole week. I was sure he was going to show up tomorrow. It was Friday after all. Staff meeting and all.

"You don't have his number?"

"No."

"Email?" I shook my head. Why didn't I think of that? I could get either from the company website.

Because I wanted to see him.

I shook that thought away and focused on the Naan. "Well, I'm sure he'll reach out. But I'm so happy for you," he answered, his gaze going to his phone. I frowned. That was the fifth time in two minutes.

"Is something the matter?"

"Yeah, I'll have to leave in a bit. I was visiting a friend here and thought I'd drop by and see if you were up," My hand froze and I dropped the piece of Naan I was holding. He carried on, his eyes on his phone. "I'll have to go, the hospital wants me for the night shift."

I nodded woodenly and stood up, wiping my fingers on the wet towelette. "I should go too, early start tomorrow, don't want to be late."

He smiled. "We should do this more often, this was nice. It's always so nice to talk to you Shazi."

I don't think I smiled back.

Running the brush down my hair, I tried to convince myself that my dark circles were not too prominent. I'd sent a picture to Ja and she'd advised me to pile on the concealer.

A nice way to say I looked horrible.

I hadn't told her about the whole dinner fiasco. Was it a fiasco? Or was I overthinking? Maybe I was overthinking.

Or I was trying to hold on to something that didn't exist.

Tears started to drop from my eyes and I sniffled to hold them in. The brush fell from my hand, hitting the vanity with a loud clang as I concentrated on my breathing. I was more than this. I could not go back to that depressive state. I simply had too much too lose. Never was I ever going to lose control.

Never again.

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🍁Thoughts? Comments?🍁

Should she hang on to the past? Or move ahead?