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Except, our fate came with an ending written in stone.
Or timing was never right.
The urge to cyberstalk him to see what he’s doing in his journey to take over the world always comes in the middle of the night when I’m lying alone in an empty bed. But then I remember how I’m still not over him completely. How difficult it is to just breathe without my heart hurting.
Summoning what little strength I have, I shut down the stupid urge. Obsessing over him would have been taking a step backward. So the first month when I shifted my mindset, I went on a mission to find an apartment in a safe society, and once I settled, I began to focus on building my business. Working as a freelance interior designer is tough when you’re starting out, even if you have experience.
Luckily, Zara helped me land my first client, Sitara Singh, who prefers to work with freelancers who will devote their time and energy solely on hers. I was told if I impressed her, her testimony alone will go a long way since she’s a rich society wife and has tons of connections.
I was apprehensive to meet her at first since I grew up around women like her, but I was pleasantly surprised when we met and talked. She was down to earth, kind, and welcoming. After our first meeting itself, she hired me. It was my first big win in a long time and it gave me the sense of confidence I was searching for.
It wasn’t long before I submerged my heartbreak into building my client base with her glowing recommendation and before I knew it, I had to search for an office to rent out since I could no longer work from my small apartment.
As I look back, I realize how far I’ve come. I was a one-woman show until today, doing everything on my own, like scheduling, meeting with vendors, laborers, and it began to take a toll on my health. So, I decided to hire an assistant to help manage my schedule and enable me to focus on my favorite part of the job—designing. Bringing my clients’ visions to life.
Arriving at the building where I rent my two-room office, I park my car. In an hour, people will be showing up for the job interviews I’m conducting today.
“Hello, Miss Chopra.”
I meet my elderly security guard’s warm eyes and pretend to scold him, “How many times have I told you to call me Bianca, Shammi?”
“I will do no such thing during working hours,” he declares.
I shake my head because the man is stubborn. He’s really fit for someone of the age of seventy and I was surprised to learn that he’s been working here for twenty-something years. Everyone loves his charming smile and mischievous eyes. If he did ever try to quit, no one would let him leave. I, myself, consider him one of my friends in the city.
“Here. I brought you lunch.”
When I pass him the tiffin box, his gaze narrows and he suspiciously asks, “Cooked extra by mistake again, miss?”
“Oh yes,” I say because otherwise he won’t accept it, but we both know I’m lying. It’s the least I could do for all the times he stays behind when I’m working late and walks me to my car at night. With a wave, I walk inside and call out over my shoulder.
“Have a good day, Shammi.”
The next hour flies by, with me sorting and arranging my office properly. If the interviewees saw the clutter and just how disorganized I am, a few might just turn tail while the rest would demand a raise from the first day. Raj, my first interviewee, will be arriving any minute now. I check my watch when there’s a knock at my door. I open it to find him here and welcome him with a warm smile.
“Um. Hi, I’m Raj,” he says, slightly nervous. “Are you Bianca?”
“Yes. I was just waiting for you,” I tell him, before inviting him in. “If you’re ready, we can start. And don’t be nervous.”
He laughs low and some of the tension eases once we sit at my desk. As I observe him, I get a feeling that he’s still in college and probably looking for a summer job. I interview him with an open mind because even though he might not have a lot of experience, he may have the skills I need. Besides, one has to start from somewhere.
After Raj, the next person is already waiting for me and she looks confident. Over the next couple of hours, I run through interviews, and man, it is as tiresome as it is fun. By the time the last interviewee leaves, my shoulders slump because only one out of the eight caught my eye but she can’t start for another two weeks.
And I need one right now. Or I might not have a business by the time she returns.
My second-best option is Raj, but I will have to train him. A lot. That will be another headache. However, I don’t see any other choice. It’s almost evening and I decide to at least get some work done before I leave.
Shammi is always scolding me about how I’m a workaholic—the one quality I despise—since I always work late hours until I’m bone-deep tired. If only he knew the truth. That the thought of returning to my empty apartment is a painful reminder that I’m alone.
That the nights are the hardest.
That working late until I’m ready to pass out is the only way I can hold on to my sanity. The only way I don’t dream of him. The only way I don’t miss being cocooned in his arms.
No matter how hard I try, he’s still as deep in my heart as ever.
Shoving those dark thoughts down, I turn from the unlocked door to walk to my desk.
“Any chance you’re accepting a walk-in?”
