x
Caesar kicked the gate like it owed him something.33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJ0UuWVWOjO
Same energy I had when I read the team update at 12:41 a.m.
I wasn't even through the stable doors yet, and he was already huffing like I'd personally offended him.
They say he's my horse, but that's not quite true.33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡo4RryFmA1l
He's my shadow. My barometer. My most honest mirror.33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVqcIF4TXmc
And this morning, he was vibrating with the tension I wouldn't name.
By the time I reached him, the fog still curled low over the hills. The sunrise painted the ridge gold, but Caesar's coat gleamed black as oil—restless, twitching, fully awake and entirely unimpressed by my delay.
"You're dramatic," I muttered, leaning against the gate.
He tossed his head and slammed a hoof into the dirt, hard enough to rattle the latch. Message received.
Behind me, Mirsad grunted. "He woke the whole ridge up. Been screaming for you since dawn."
I glanced over my shoulder. "I had a call with Berlin."
Mirsad's face didn't twitch. The man was carved from stone and sarcasm.33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡAdihWOdFd4
"Tell your calls to hold next time. The horse doesn't care. And neither do I."
I smirked. "Good morning to you too."
He only grunted again.
No one had earned Mirsad's respect without blood or bruises—and even then, it was temporary. He respected performance, not pedigree. Which made him the only person alive who could speak to me like that without worrying about unemployment.
I stepped into the stall. Caesar yanked at my scarf like a child throwing a tantrum.
"Don't be petty," I warned, working the bridle over his head.
He huffed in response, then nipped at my glove for good measure.
"Honestly," I muttered, pulling the girth strap tight. "You're worse than my brothers."
He blinked, unbothered. Predictably arrogant. Unforgiving.
It took longer than usual to saddle him—not because he was difficult, but because my head was somewhere else entirely.
Specifically, on the roster update that came through at 12:41 a.m.
Team Assignment Update:33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡpRyjqkNJhs
Kenan Husić removed. Ayub Selimović assigned.
I hadn't made the change.33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhFN61QMjfm
But I knew who had.
Husine Begović didn't believe in warnings. If something crossed a line, it vanished.33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCEWMrlXZbi
That was how he built an empire. Swiftly. Quietly. Without apology.
Kenan had been skating on thin ice for weeks. Personal comments. That lingering gaze he thought I hadn't noticed. A joke in front of a client that left me ice-cold.
But my father had noticed.
He was at the meeting Friday when Kenan leaned too far into my space while handing me the quarterly sheets. I hadn't reacted. I never do. But Babo's eyes had narrowed like a blade being drawn.
Now, before the new week even started, Kenan was reassigned to my father's office. It wasn't a promotion. It was exile.
I pitied him—for about thirty seconds. He'd made his bed.33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡP00FRm6D7K
Now he could present analytics to a man who could end his career before lunch.
Still, I hadn't expected Ayub to replace him.
That caught me off guard.
Ayub had always been around. Just... not in my way.
He moved into our home when I was sixteen and he was barely older.33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡo2hEy8KWkF
I remember him sitting at our dinner table that first night—too quiet, too polite, eyes wide with the kind of grief you don't talk about.33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡgzcFDlmPmB
My mother sat him beside me like I was supposed to make him feel welcome. I passed him the salad without speaking. He whispered "thank you" like I was doing him a favor.
He stayed for two years.33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1IVpBOHFVx
Long enough to fold into the rhythm of our family.33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡh3IYM7IV8g
Long enough for my mother to start calling him her "fifth child."
He moved out at eighteen—first to the university dorms, then to an apartment across the river. But he never stopped showing up.33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡSsbgXGqsmF
He still came home every Sunday for dinner.33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡP4zOlp6cGh
Still brought flowers for my mother.33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3LHJf437AY
Still sat in the front row at my siblings' events in pressed shirts with that quiet, dependable smile.
He's a good man. Truly.
And I love him in the way I love my brothers.
But I've always known he had a crush on me.
It's not something he ever acted on. Of course not. Ayub is too respectful for that. Too careful.
But I saw it.33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbeEbg7mt5E
In the way he lingered near the kitchen when I walked in.33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtinoq1uALT
How he looked away a second too late.33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡneO9ckiza5
How he always said my name like it was something breakable.
It was sweet.33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡx5sUHU7BUS
Cute, even.
He's handsome. Tall. Lean. Eyes like dark glass. The kind of jawline girls trip over.33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡf7DgUqieWY
He was cute even as a teenager—shy and sharp-edged.33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡlNFPLKtP50
And he grew into something more. Broader. Quieter. A little sad around the edges.
But not for me.
He never stood a chance.
Not because I didn't care about him—but because Ayub would never survive me.
I'm difficult on my best day. Sharp on my worst. I eat hesitation for breakfast.33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡr1LTSyStUg
And Ayub—for all his intelligence and kindness—is soft where I am steel.
He never pushed back. Never interrupted.33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbRbcpw5UHP
Babo offered him a division last year. He declined.33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡRw3n2pgM1U
Said he preferred to work under Imran.
Babo called it humility.33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡMPAxedHdFd
I called it fear.
Running a division meant standing shoulder to shoulder with Imran and me.33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ8Sa0thvAUu
We don't share power easily. And Ayub knew that.
So he stayed where it was safe. Comfortable. Quiet.
And I let him.
I didn't want him by my side. Not in that way.
But now—thanks to my father—he was here.33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡM8eMNx1Zbr
On my team.
Working under me.
I swung into Caesar's saddle and tried to focus.33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIlR7Akyg2B
Mirsad was already standing at the center of the ring, arms folded, frown carved deep.
We were a mess.
The first jump came too early. I didn't shorten Caesar's stride fast enough, and he took it long. His landing was heavy, his back legs scraping dirt like he was still half asleep. I barely corrected in time for the second.
The corner was worse. I overcompensated, pulled too hard, and he tossed his head in protest. His rhythm broke. The third jump came crooked. We clipped the top rail—loud enough to sting.
Mirsad let out a sharp whistle from across the ring, the kind that used to make me flinch when I was fifteen and too proud to admit I didn't know what I was doing.
I circled back, face hot, jaw clenched.
It wasn't Caesar's fault. It was mine. I wasn't grounded. I wasn't here. My body was in the saddle, but my head was still in that damn meeting, rehashing numbers, words, consequences. And Caesar knew it. Felt it.
He always did.
I gave him a pat on the neck. "Sorry, ljubavi."
But I could already feel Mirsad's stare burning through me as I brought him back around.
"You're off," he said flatly.
"I missed you too."
"No," he said. "You're off. He's off. I don't care about your board meetings or sleepless nights. You ride like that in Spain, you'll embarrass the entire country."
I gritted my teeth and nudged Caesar forward.
He resisted. Sloppy on the corners. Clipped the second pole.
"Again," Mirsad snapped.
Caesar and I had been training together for nearly a decade.33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡk0yVZSKxia
We were a unit.33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPqaqYyGhCG
But not today. Not with my head full of team charts and Ayub's name in bold font.
I circled the ring again.33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡaeZ82xxSzD
Pushed harder.33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡec6AfqkUxJ
By the third time, Caesar cleared the jumps like he was daring me to keep up.
We found it.33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡaW6mk49wkL
The rhythm.33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBfH6Yl0IPr
The control.33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡcarCD8xvdl
The grit.
Mirsad didn't smile—but his nod held a flicker of approval.
I slowed Caesar to a walk, patting his neck. His coat was damp, breath steady.33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXH245c0zeQ
Proud, the way only war horses and arrogant men ever were.
"You're still the only man who can keep up with me," I whispered.
He huffed, smug.
I dismounted, stretching my legs as the breeze picked up through the valley.33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ07HO48VWyE
My eyes lifted toward the hills beyond the estate—toward Sarajevo waking below, full of traffic and tension and unread emails.
Somewhere down there, Ayub was opening his laptop.33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡcW9RB0HnVd
Reading the assignment.33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGoKn3kTCa2
Preparing to step into my division.33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDK0cRuNbhQ
Into my world.
Back in the stable, Caesar nuzzled my shoulder like he hadn't spent the last forty minutes actively trying to throw me. Mirsad muttered something about cooling him down, but I waved him off.
"I'll walk him," I said.
He gave me a look. "Walk yourself. He's not the one with the stiff spine and clenched jaw."
I ignored that and led Caesar out the back, following the orchard trail.33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPhsKGq3uKq
The fog was breaking apart in ribbons now, dissolving into the rising sun.33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVU3xEJ96GH
The silence out here was addictive—nothing but the crunch of hooves, the creak of leather, the beat of my heart.
I needed to stay here.33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ0ICNBygLbc
Just a few more minutes.33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡWtJDveijoA
One more breath before I had to walk back into a world that was quietly rearranging itself while I slept.
The truth was—I didn't like surprises. Not on horseback. Not in the boardroom.33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡI54ZlKYPRP
Not at 12:41 a.m. when the man I knew how to handle was replaced by one I didn't.
Ayub wasn't a threat.33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxahx1yJyK7
But that's what made him dangerous.
Kenan had always been transparent. Easy to read. Easy to ignore.33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwCvrGjfRdm
But Ayub?
Ayub was silence that watched. Stillness that listened.
People like that don't reveal themselves until it's too late.
I didn't want to admit it, but part of me wanted to see how he'd show up today.
Would he stammer? Flinch? Try to smile through it all?
Or would he surprise me?
That was the thing.33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjcPzxkGXfp
He could.33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtz6B7SeOyD
And I hated that.
Because if he did—if he stood tall and proved me wrong—I'd have to rewrite the version of him I've kept folded in the back of my mind since I was sixteen.
The boy with broken eyes and gentle hands.33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡl8YXmhOlvy
The one who watched me like I held gravity in my palms.33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡg5vDha4YW2
The one who never challenged me.33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6hzvvP6U2Y
The one who never tried to stay.
I stopped walking.
Caesar swung his head around to look at me.
"Do you think he'll make it?" I asked aloud, half to him, half to the wind.
He blinked slowly, as if weighing the odds.33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡND7UseRJut
Then snorted like he couldn't be bothered with human delusions.
Fair.
My phone vibrated in my jacket pocket.33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡKoTyZQ8khN
I pulled it out and glanced at the screen.
Imran:33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡfw5be2lvVG
You see the update yet?
I didn't respond. I just stared at the message.
Yes. I saw it.33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrZTvsEdiM2
I saw everything.
And now I had a few hours to figure out what I wanted from Ayub Selimović—33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDnFZR4lIU3
before he walked into my office33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7rAhyUjb4e
and tried to hand me something that looked like respect.
Because if he showed up expecting me to soften?33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡAuNonr3W7m
He'd never make it past today.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
And so it begins.
We open with a horse, some emotional repression, and a woman who doesn't flinch when men in suits try to talk over her. Classic.
Is it a love story? Eventually.33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIZpiOGxelP
Is it also about power, legacy, trauma, and one black stallion with more attitude than most people I know? Yes. Yes it is.
The others will show up soon — messy, emotional, disastrously in love.
But for now? It's just Lamija.33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ9SH7wckNo4
Try to keep up.
Ash&Olive
33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡncAYxXaD4z
