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.20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZlIwAzPeni
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.20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡuJbr12g3Ls
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.20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡuyB5ucz77g
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.20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXA2DhnDumQ
"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.20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4u2gxWGJ0X
But he hadn't run it by me.
No clearance.20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡfW8ECRLWxI
No discussion.20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvebUClvVdw
Just initiative dressed as insubordination.
He thought he was helping.20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡObaHFHyDFv
He thought he was showing leadership.
What he did was make me look inconsistent.
It wasn't just a mistake.
It was a misstep.20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡpUs853ApQ5
And now it was mine to clean up.
My father didn’t care who sent the email. Only that it came from my team.20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡj098uEBKJQ
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.20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQIPLazOgIB
No acknowledgement. No signal.
Nothing.
He sat back.20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjbSZ5Cflpk
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.20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIxmngnwoQz
A neatly trimmed beard. Strong jaw. Quiet confidence.20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡU6nq11CWRT
Composure carved into muscle and silence.
He looked good.20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡnZ3h0oDBnb
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.20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡdRHArNWQVu
Not if he couldn’t hold it together when it counted.
When we reached the implementation forecast, I paused.20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ0ehnPphvGE
Clicked the next slide.20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6ISiYLqOoA
Turned my attention directly to him.
I took a breath. Not to steady myself.20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡkCdQpdI6Re
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.20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtqWURp7Ncl
He didn't argue. Didn't offer another word.20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡH0kdrsOBMG
But I saw it—the flicker of something under the surface.20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡn08R2DsxdQ
Pride. Frustration. Maybe even anger.20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡcKe2R63ivM
He swallowed it down.
He nodded once.20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZ31PVvkdrN
Tight. Controlled.
It was all he could do.
You’re supposed to correct in private. Preserve someone’s dignity.20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBYIK1Y51ZI
But leadership wasn’t always about what you’re supposed to do.20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNWJqC0k8ZK
Sometimes it was about what the room needed.
I let the moment hang.20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡctFfbaXGLu
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.20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7lreH8lVel
Not pale. Not shaken.20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhOlk7lnyi3
Just boiling beneath the surface.
He didn't fidget. Didn't flinch.20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡaUHeRGEzcj
But there was something in the way he stared at the table like it owed him an apology.
I saw it.20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡeoO0qnnOtc
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.20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFBWCgnWmVb
Not right away.20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡa1JjR9D6yv
Like he thought maybe I’d change my mind.20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡslgikXokKi
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.20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ8qsVZWEEsm
"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.20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡeOcgiJDwfs
Not to explain.
Just to see if he was still standing where I left him.20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡgv5a6ouRiE
And if the fire I lit was still burning behind his eyes.
Ibtigha’a wajh Allah.20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡck5DSlvlhD
Striving for Allah’s approval.20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡT2mR8zHjm5
That’s what it’s supposed to be.20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJpnVnifTJc
Not anger. Not ego.20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQ7eglAEX7D
Not the burn still sitting in my chest.
And definitely not the part of me that wanted him to hurt.20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡfgn3FCspld
Just enough to remember where we stand.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Lamija is calm.20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1Pw1ugermV
Lamija is composed.20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5dmsQfbbF9
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:20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGBKsZOK0lT
✔ Public professionalism20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡR5NZM2NqrN
✔ Private rage20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBkW6vGDqeF
✔ And a leadership style somewhere between sabr and scorched earth
Ayub showed up dressed for war.20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxcI5gXgpwk
Unfortunately for him, so did Lamija.20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡs9BzonMZ0s
And Talha? He showed up for lunch and accidentally walked into the fallout.
Thanks for reading.20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡUaf7o9Jhm9
Please make du’a for Ayub.20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbuOa8pCv9M
He’s still standing—but just barely.
20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡq1Xpw3MJo4
