I was going through the company's previous files to get a grasp of their work style, and I must admit, things seemed a bit chaotic. The organization of the files felt haphazard.

When I inquired with my assistant about the employees responsible for maintaining the files, she informed me that the organization was left up to the workers themselves, and no designated person was appointed for this task.

"Why hasn't an organizer been appointed? This company has grown beyond the small scale," I remarked.

"Yes, ma'am. Sir had been looking for someone, but no one has been appointed yet," my assistant, Manya, replied.

"Alright, I'll address this matter," I noted in my diary, making a mental note to investigate later.

I then instructed Manya to gather the employees' files, finance documents, and other pertinent records. Reviewing these files proved to be quite intriguing.

I've always been one to dive into work as soon as possible, and I was determined to understand the company's work processes by the end of the day so I could hit the ground running tomorrow. Thus, I worked late into the night, long after the rest of the employees had left for home.

By the time I finished, it was already 1 am. Glancing outside my office, I noticed that the entire office was shrouded in darkness. I called my driver and began to gather my belongings.

As I made my way out of the office, something caught my eye - the office arrangement bore a striking resemblance to a design I had created back in 8th grade. I had been passionate about organizing and had even designed the interior of my dream office based on it.

I remember leaving the design on my father's desk one night when he arrived home late. I had expected him to discuss it with me the next day, but the topic never came up, and I eventually forgot about it.

It could have been a mere coincidence, but the realization dawned on me - my father's office had sported a similar layout. The fact that I never found the design again after that night suggested that he had seen it. I couldn't help but feel a swirl of confusion and uncertainty as I pondered what it all meant.

Flashback...

"Mom, have you seen my design sheet?" I questioned, unable to locate it on Father's desk.

"Which one?" she inquired, stirring my favorite tomato soup on the stove.

It was winter, and tomatoes were like a welcomed treat during the cold weather. I always cherished the comforting aroma of my mom's homemade soup.

"I created a design for my dream office as part of a project. I left it on Dad's desk for him to review, but I haven't heard anything from him, and now I can't find it," I explained, frustration seeping into my voice.

"Oh, dear! Do you need it for something urgent?" she asked, concern etched on her face.

"No, the submission isn't until next week," I replied, deflating slightly.

"That's a relief. I'll talk to your dad about it, but in the meantime, make sure you have a backup plan," she advised gently.

"Okay," I responded, feeling disheartened by my father's apparent lack of interest. It seemed as though my hard work had gone unnoticed, and it left a bitter taste in my mouth.

That night, I retired to bed early, wanting to avoid any confrontation with my father.

End of the flashback...

As I reached the ground floor, my driver was waiting for me, but my attention was drawn to the BMW parked just before my car.

'What is he doing here?' I wondered, pausing in my tracks.

The driver's door swung open, and he emerged, making his way towards me.

"Hey," he greeted, attempting to embrace me.

I instinctively stepped back, avoiding his touch. "What are you still doing here at this hour? Didn't you go back?" I inquired, curiosity piqued. He was the type who always informed his family if he stayed out late.

"I went to your place, but your dad said you hadn't returned, so I came to find you," he explained.

"And why did you feel the need to do that, Mr. Ranbir? You don't need to worry if I stay late at the office," I replied, a hint of annoyance creeping into my voice.

"I'm not worried. I just know how much you love your work, and I figured you'd want to fully understand the company before diving in tomorrow," he said, surprising me with his insight. We had worked on many school projects, so he knew my work habits well.

"Fine. What do you want?" I asked, bracing myself for his request.

"I just want to take you out, Mahira. It's been a while, and I think we can work things out between us," he suggested earnestly.

"What's there to work out, Ranbir? That's all in the past," I countered, not keen on revisiting old feelings.

"Yes, but we had a special friendship and bond. I don't want to lose that," he insisted.

"Really?" I hesitated. I didn't want to reopen old wounds. It had taken me a long time to move on from him, and I feared that reconnecting now might disrupt my plans.

"Look, I've just started working here. I can't afford to get distracted. Let's..." I trailed off, hoping he'd understand.

"I won't be a distraction. I'll support you, but please hear me out," he persisted, his determination evident.

And just like that, he was back to his old ways. Ranbir never took no for an answer, and I resented that about him.

"Not now, Ranbir," I said, my voice a whisper laced with frustration. "Let's talk about it tomorrow. I'm exhausted and just want to sleep. Goodbye," I stated firmly, attempting to walk away. But before I knew it, he had grabbed my arm and pulled me towards his car, and before I could protest, we were speeding down the road.

"What the hell, Ranbir? How dare you drag me like that? I'm not some toy!" I exclaimed, anger simmering beneath the surface.

"You're not a toy. I know that. But I need to talk. Please, just let me," he suddenly raised his voice, causing my heart to race.

I recognized this pattern.

He was becoming increasingly frustrated, which could lead to...

He must have sensed my apprehension because he stopped the car and took a deep breath. "So, you remember my habits?" he said after a moment.

I remained silent, refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing he still affected me.

"Mahira, I can't change what happened that day. It was a misunderstanding, but you never gave me a chance to explain," he continued.

I turned to him, feeling disappointed. "Really? If I recall correctly, we were in the same place many times after that night, but you never made an effort to talk," I countered.

His silence spoke volumes, and he turned his gaze forward, avoiding my eyes.

"Your explanations are too little, too late, Ranbir. It took me years to forget those memories, and I can't go through that pain again. Just let me be, please," I pleaded, tears welling up in my eyes. Even discussing that pain made me feel numb. I couldn't forget what happened, and I couldn't forgive him for it.

(EDIT)

Maybe my words made him realize that I could not be fooled anymore. He just started the car and dropped me back at home. Dad slept by the time I came, so there was no more drama. I went to my room and took my clothes before going to the washroom. 

I started rubbing my hands with the scrub. And every place where he ever laid his hands. It was happening again. All the memories of the pain had started coming back. That night I cried my heart out, which was the only way I could heal back. I cannot let anything affect my plans to go to Chicago.

RING.

As the warmth of my bed enveloped me once more, I couldn't help but feel a sense of reluctance to fully wake up. The faint light seeping through the curtains hinted at the early morning hour, contrasting sharply with the stillness of the room. Yet, the persistent buzzing of my phone shattered the tranquility, pulling me back to the realm of wakefulness.

With a sleepy sigh, I reached for my phone and brought it close to my ear, the grogginess evident in my voice as I greeted my mother on the other end.

"Good morning, Mom. I know it must be late at night there in Canada, but it's early morning here," I murmured, my words punctuated by a yawn.

"Yeah, I know. But I miss you. Can't I talk to my daughter anytime?" she responded, injecting a hint of playful melodrama into her tone.

Despite my drowsiness, her words brought a soft smile to my lips. "Mom, please. I just answered your call," I replied, trying to stifle a chuckle.

"Okay, fine. How are you?" Her concern washed over me, prompting me to sit up in bed, suddenly more awake than before.

"I'm good, Mom. I've gone through the files, and I can start working normally from today," I assured her, my mind already shifting to the tasks awaiting me in the office. However, I omitted the events of the previous night, focusing instead on the progress I had made professionally.

We lingered on the phone a while longer, exchanging updates and sharing snippets of our lives before reluctantly bidding each other farewell. As I ended the call, I couldn't shake the feeling of trepidation that lingered in the back of my mind.

With a deep breath, I pushed aside my apprehensions and began to prepare for the day ahead, hoping against hope that I wouldn't have to confront the complexities of last night's encounter with Ranbir.