It was nearly 11 a.m. on Friday, and the room was already half full.
Mugs in hand. Laptops open. The kind of low murmur that always hung in the air before a full-staff meeting. The analysts looked alert. Emir was already at the end of the table, reviewing something I'd emailed him an hour ago. I stood near the screen, tapping through the opening slide deck. Clean. Structured. Ready.
Then Ayub walked in.
Five minutes early.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡEYJyAzy7p5
Confident. Not cocky. But lighter—like someone who thought a smile over coffee meant something more than it did.
And he'd dressed like it, too.
Charcoal suit. New, or newly tailored—finally sitting right on his shoulders. Crisp white shirt, top button done. Navy tie, the right width, clean knot. Polished oxfords. Matching leather watch strap. Not flashy. Not loud.
Intentional.
I knew what it looked like when a man dressed for power.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡzsUywwCHBa
And I knew what it looked like when a man dressed for me.
He caught my eye as he took his seat near the front. Held it for a beat longer than necessary. There was the hint of a smile there—quiet. Almost sure.
Like we were good.
I didn't return it.
Not because I was holding onto the café.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIztNsAkXIR
I hadn’t walked away from that table with anything I didn’t mean to leave behind.
But because my phone had buzzed two minutes earlier with an email from my father.
Subject line: Kovač timeline revision.
The body was short. Direct.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjosrAuAYQz
"Inconsistent communication with clients is unacceptable. I expect better from your team—and from you. Leadership is an amanah. Treat it like one."
He'd attached an email Ayub sent.
I read it twice. Jaw tightening with every line.
Ayub had softened my numbers. Adjusted the Q2 delivery timeline. Framed it as a slight extension—measured, diplomatic.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡpYNL2JnZz4
But he hadn't run it by me.
No clearance.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡLYgNhNyN62
No discussion.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡkAFqcpnXIg
Just initiative dressed as insubordination.
He thought he was helping.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡUuHpPRqJNg
He thought he was showing leadership.
What he did was make me look inconsistent.
It wasn't just a mistake.
It was a misstep.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡd01dR4QoEG
And now it was mine to clean up.
My father didn’t care who sent the email. Only that it came from my team.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡcgDVhzicmO
Which meant it came from me.
Emir leaned in slightly. "Everything alright?"
I didn't answer.
Ayub must've sensed something, because when I glanced up, he was watching me—brows slightly drawn, eyes searching. The faintest shift in his expression, like he was about to ask.
What's wrong?
I didn't give him the chance.
I looked straight past him, back to the screen.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡoKKDIYKRP9
No acknowledgement. No signal.
Nothing.
He sat back.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3OuBCiBdWG
Didn't ask again.
Good.
Because I didn't trust myself to answer without burning it all down.
I let the room settle. Let the conversations drop. Let the click of mugs and shuffle of chairs give way to stillness.
Then I stood.
"Let's get started."
I moved through the updates like usual—quick, direct, unbothered. A few minor redirections. Emir filled in where needed. The team was alert. Focused. Efficient.
And Ayub?
He was polished. Sharp suit, clean lines, perfect posture. His shirt collar was smooth, his tie properly set, and his responses clipped and precise. He spoke when prompted—measured, intelligent, completely in control.
And underneath all that—
Broad shoulders. Solid frame. The kind of strength you didn’t need to show off to feel.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡf7NlCwnN8M
A neatly trimmed beard. Strong jaw. Quiet confidence.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡaVbQGEDV8x
Composure carved into muscle and silence.
He looked good.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡu7JEP1EpAC
Too good.
And that—that was what made it worse.
Because if I hadn't opened that email this morning, I might've looked at him and thought he was exactly where he belonged. Like he'd earned the seat. The respect. The authority.
But I had opened it.
And all I saw now was a man who looked like a solution—while quietly becoming a problem.
It didn’t matter how good he looked in a room.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡcv0pCB9YhA
Not if he couldn’t hold it together when it counted.
When we reached the implementation forecast, I paused.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZfJD3acu9n
Clicked the next slide.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjsEkgjjyfS
Turned my attention directly to him.
I took a breath. Not to steady myself.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3gzmCNdxVu
To cut clean.
"Selimović."
He straightened. "Yes?"
I didn't raise my voice. I didn't need to.
"Did you revise the Q2 target delivery timeline in your follow-up to Kovač?"
The room stilled. Every movement halted like someone had hit mute.
Ayub hesitated. Just barely.
"Yes. I gave them an extra week. Based on the supplier report we got Thursday morning, I thought—"
"Did you clear that with me?"
His jaw tensed. "No. But I thought it was minor enough not to disrupt the projection. The client seemed—"
"But it disrupted my promise to the client."
I stepped forward. Calm. Controlled.
"I don't care if you thought it was minor. I don't care if you thought it made you look smart or measured or diplomatic. What you did was undermine alignment, and make me look like I padded numbers I don't pad. Not ever."
He opened his mouth again—small, hesitant. "I was trying to protect delivery margins. I didn't think it would reflect—"
"You didn't think," I cut in. "That's the problem."
Silence.
And this time, he didn't try again.
The team was silent.
"I put my name on those targets," I said. "And you walked them back without consulting me. If you're going to dilute my delivery, do it in front of me. Not after I've stepped out of the room."
Ayub's jaw flexed.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ11PDbPbraN
He didn't argue. Didn't offer another word.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5iSDi7nYmU
But I saw it—the flicker of something under the surface.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ293rkgFUR4
Pride. Frustration. Maybe even anger.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtCbxBmouLp
He swallowed it down.
He nodded once.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡkx2eMpPIJA
Tight. Controlled.
It was all he could do.
You’re supposed to correct in private. Preserve someone’s dignity.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡav3oZW97wq
But leadership wasn’t always about what you’re supposed to do.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡlkBze7jq9w
Sometimes it was about what the room needed.
I let the moment hang.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡgL4a9o0Qx8
Let it sting.
Then I turned away and kept going.
"Emir, pull the original projection into the deck. We'll circulate a revised brief by end of day."
"Got it," Emir said.
Ayub said nothing.
He stayed in his seat—shoulders tight, jaw locked.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvBgKWEChjB
Not pale. Not shaken.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPGCrLNecCz
Just boiling beneath the surface.
He didn't fidget. Didn't flinch.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6Dt0njkk7c
But there was something in the way he stared at the table like it owed him an apology.
I saw it.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡW9WXWK0Wnv
I didn't let it sway me.
The rest of the meeting passed in silence. No one joked. No one lingered. By the time we adjourned, the room emptied faster than usual.
I closed my laptop. Stood.
He was still sitting.
Waiting.
I didn’t look at him, but I felt it—the weight of him wanting to speak. The tension radiating off him like heat.
“A word?” he asked, voice low.
I didn’t stop moving.
“Not right now.”
Flat. Sharp.
He didn’t move.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4sVOkT5kHJ
Not right away.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvGalWRsWGi
Like he thought maybe I’d change my mind.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡT5Dd9NJfZ7
I didn’t.
I didn’t give him anything else..
Not until I heard the door open behind us.
“Th-there she is,” Talha said, all ease and grin. “R-ready for l-lunch?”
My shoulders relaxed a fraction.
“Give me two minutes,” I said, already grabbing my phone.
Talha looked tired—like the kind of tired that sleep didn’t fix.
He was in dark jeans and a black T-shirt. The jeans were expensive. Structured. Designer cut. The kind I’d bought him two months ago after telling him if he showed up to one more family dinner in sweats, I was going to set them on fire.
And now he was wearing them to load trucks.
There was dust on one leg, a grease smudge near the pocket. His T-shirt clung to his shoulders, stretched slightly at the collar. Boots scuffed from the dock. Every part of him looked like he’d just come off shift.
And still—somehow—it worked on him.
I crossed my arms. “Are you serious?”
He blinked. “W-what?”
“Those are not dock jeans.”
“They’re p-pants, aren’t th-they?”
I exhaled through my nose. “You’re unbelievable.”
Still, I reached out and dusted off his shoulder—cardboard grit clinging to the black cotton.
He didn’t move. Just let me do it, like he always had.
"N-nice tie," he added, teasing. "Y-you let h-him live?"
"Barely," I muttered.
But I hated how quickly Ayub looked away when he did.
Ayub stood slowly. Not a sound, not a word. Just gathered his things with careful precision.
As he reached the door, Talha looked at him—really looked.
"Y-you g-good?" he asked, low.
Ayub didn't look at either of us.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5fvPYeSAoN
"Not the time," he said. Voice tight. Flat.
Talha didn't push.
Ayub walked out.
I watched him go.
Talha watched me.
"Th-that bad, huh?"
I shrugged.
“C-come on,” he said, holding the door open with his shoulder. “I’m st-starving.”
I grabbed my bag, adjusted the strap, smoothed the edge of my blazer like it hadn't wrinkled.
"Let's go."
We stepped into the hallway. The door clicked shut behind us.
And I didn't look back.
But part of me wanted to.
Not to apologize.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡr6PuiMRy02
Not to explain.
Just to see if he was still standing where I left him.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡOLckvq2XfG
And if the fire I lit was still burning behind his eyes.
Ibtigha’a wajh Allah.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwc05zfOK35
Striving for Allah’s approval.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡC4aPXCACPn
That’s what it’s supposed to be.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvMFp1W3Pzk
Not anger. Not ego.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡiTPRVRm5Lw
Not the burn still sitting in my chest.
And definitely not the part of me that wanted him to hurt.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4dA3hMmj9k
Just enough to remember where we stand.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Lamija is calm.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡuEuo9zaVLT
Lamija is composed.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1Dj9g8VOMG
Lamija absolutely did not torch a man’s soul in front of a full staff meeting because he made her look inconsistent on a Friday.
This chapter was brought to you by:16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPllwpKqzSh
✔ Public professionalism16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4dvLFffbDE
✔ Private rage16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡiORdhGK42b
✔ And a leadership style somewhere between sabr and scorched earth
Ayub showed up dressed for war.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡTW5SuYHErq
Unfortunately for him, so did Lamija.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrphannHtlG
And Talha? He showed up for lunch and accidentally walked into the fallout.
Thanks for reading.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡRFmJsHG0Jh
Please make du’a for Ayub.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ41lb0pUs2s
He’s still standing—but just barely.
16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡz7ra67kfyF
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