Hello Traveler, Do You Believe In Another World ??
(Recommendation) : Listen to some rain sounds while you read this—it’ll deepen the experience
So, here the story begins:
A September night: It was a rainy night that made everything feel heavier. I stood before the mirror, my thoughts lost somewhere in the clouds. Have you ever been in a moment where you’re physically present but your mind is elsewhere? That was me, at that moment.
And as I stood there, my mind drifted to something strange. Have you ever met someone who just doesn’t seem to fit into this world? Like, they don’t belong here, their kindness and innocence feel almost unreal, like they’re part of a dream.
It’s one of those things that hit me deeply. When you want to protect them, shield them from the world’s cruelty, but then reality hits—you can’t save someone who doesn’t know they need saving.
The truth is that we don’t care about someone’s life until it intertwines with our own !!
This is where the story begins:
One rainy September evening, I first saw a person who seemed so out of place in this harsh world.
But before I dive into that, let me tell you about myself.
My name is Sam, and I work for an organization that handles things most people don’t know about mainly for the safety of the country. It’s one of those jobs that everyone wants, but only a few make it into. The best thing about this job It doesn’t matter your age or education; it’s all about talent.
I was only 15 when I made it in. It wasn’t easy, but I earned my place. Now, at 18, I’ve moved up to the rank of Assistant. I live a good life—steady job, nice pay—and I’ve been able to do things most people dream of at my age.
The man at the top of the organization is our President. He is the only one I respect deeply. His strength comes from his kindness, and he’s the kind of person who does what’s right, no matter how hard it gets. The true inspiration of mine. He also trusted me, and that means I knew the most secret things about the organization after him.
But here’s the thing – I don’t know much about his personal life. I’ve never been to his house, never met his family. All I know is he’s separated from his wife and has a daughter. She’s about my age, maybe a year or two younger.
So, that rainy night, the phone rang. It’s the President.
“Sam, I’m still at my daughter’s school,” he says. His voice is calm, but I can tell he’s rushed. Ever since his separation, he’s been the one to pick her up from school, and tonight was no different.
But tonight, the rain was a problem. It delayed him, and he had a meeting coming up—an important one.
“Has the guest arrived?” he asks.
“Yeah, they’ve been waiting for a while,” I answer.
“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” he said.
Well, I didn’t know this night wasn’t going to be like any other.
The rain outside was just the beginning of something bigger. Something that would change everything. Little did I know, that night would pull me into a story I wasn’t ready for, a story that would leave me questioning everything I thought I knew.
About half an hour later, he arrived at the headquarters. But there was something different this time—he wasn’t alone. To my surprise, his daughter was with him.
It felt unusual. He had always been careful to keep his personal and professional life separate, never once crossing the two. But tonight, something had clearly shifted. Maybe it was the urgency of the meeting or the relentless downpour outside, but instead of taking the time to drop her home which was 25 kilometers away from the headquarters—he had brought her here.
That time I was at my desk, stationed near the President’s seat, working on some files when they entered the room. The sound of the door opening drew my attention, and there he was—calm but slightly hurried as if trying to gauge whether he was too late.
“Am I too late for the meeting?” he asked, a hint of concern in his voice.
“No, sir,” I replied, glancing at the clock. “You still have plenty of time. The heavy rain has delayed everything, so the officers won’t be leaving until it clears up. We’ve got this covered.”
Relief washed over his face, and he looked up briefly as if thanking the heavens. “Well, that’s good to hear. At least nature is on our side today,” he said with a faint smile. Then, as if remembering something, he added, “Oh, I almost forgot to introduce you. Meet her—my daughter.”
She stood quietly behind him, peeking into the office with hesitant eyes. He turned to her, motioning gently. “Come on, Anya, say hi. This is Sam, my right hand.”
Her gaze flickered toward me for a brief moment, and she nodded slightly, her way of saying hello. That was the first time I saw her—Anya. And in that instant, something about her struck me.
It wasn’t that I hadn’t seen beautiful girls before—I had. But there was something so different about her, something mysterious and unexplainable. Her presence felt quiet, almost delicate as if she didn’t belong to the chaos of this world.
Anya was wearing her school uniform—a blue skirt paired with a white shirt and a royal-colored tie. Her long, curly hair fell in soft waves down her back, reaching her waist. Since it was the rainy season, she had a slight cold, and a dark black mask covered most of her face, leaving only her eyes visible. Those eyes—they held something unspoken, something I couldn’t quite put into words.
She seemed shy, avoiding eye contact as she stared at the floor. One hand clutched her father’s coat like it was her anchor in an unfamiliar space.
The President smiled and spoke again, this time looking directly at me. “Sam, while the meeting is going on, I want you to stay here and look after her. If she needs anything, make sure she gets it.”
I nodded, acknowledging the task, though my thoughts were still tangled in trying to figure her out.
As the President left for his meeting, I couldn’t help but glance back at Anya. Not with any wrong intentions, but simply in quiet admiration of the unusual aura she carried. Her presence was captivating, yet it wasn’t loud or commanding. It was the kind of beauty that whispered, not shouted.
She didn’t move right away, just stood by the window, staring out at the rain. The glass was bulletproof, thick, and sturdy, but she seemed lost in the world beyond it, watching raindrops race each other down the pane. Slowly, she took a step forward, tracing the glass with her gaze.
Then it happened. Her hand brushed against the edge of the desk, where a paperweight sat. It wobbled for a moment before tumbling to the floor with a loud clatter. Startled, she stepped back, her wide eyes darting around the room, and she mumbled, “Sorry… sorry.”
I was on my feet in an instant, moving toward her. “Are you okay?” I asked, concerned more by her startled reaction than the paperweight itself.
She looked even more flustered now, her hands clutching each other nervously. I motioned toward the nearby sofa. “Here, sit down for a moment. It’s fine, really. It’s just a paperweight.”
I Saw She hesitated but eventually walked over and sat down. After I watched her as she adjusted herself on the sofa, her small frame looking even smaller against the leather cushions.
However I couldn’t help but wonder—why did she seem so scared? This entire headquarters belonged to her father, yet she looked as though she didn’t belong here at all. It was just a paperweight, and yet her reaction was as if she’d committed some grave mistake.
Maybe it wasn’t the object falling that scared her. Maybe it was something deeper, something she carried inside, that made her flinch at even the smallest misstep.
I walked toward her cautiously, my voice calm yet curious. “Are you okay? Do you need anything? Maybe tea or coffee?”
For the first time, her eyes met mine. Those deep, brown eyes—there was something about them like they held a story I couldn’t wait to unfold. She hesitated briefly, then softly said, “Yes… can I get a cup of hot coffee, please?”
Her voice was as gentle as a whisper, yet it struck me. For a moment, I couldn’t take my eyes off her. Her gaze had a quiet intensity, and I found myself falling into those brown pools as if they were pulling me into a world I didn’t fully understand.
I blinked, snapping myself out of it. But something inside me stirred—a strange feeling, a spark of mischief. I didn’t know why, but I wanted to test her, tease her.
With a slight smirk, I said, “No. Do you really think we can arrange coffee for you in this heavy rain right now?”
She froze, staring at me in shock. Her eyes widened as if I’d just said something unimaginable.
It struck me then—perhaps no one had ever denied her anything before. She just stood there, stunned, trying to process what I’d said.
“Okay, fine,” I added, breaking the silence. “You can have a glass of hot water instead.”
She lowered her head, staring at her feet, and mumbled, “Oh… it’s okay. Fine.”
Though I wasn’t done. I tilted my head slightly and said, “Actually, I don’t think coffee is good for you, anyway.”
She looked back at me, her shock now mixed with disbelief. Her eyes closed briefly, as if trying to hold back a reaction, then opened again slowly, with a faint hint of annoyance.
I turned and walked toward the desk where the electric kettle sat. Filling a glass with hot water, I returned to her and placed it gently on the table in front of her. “Here,” I said, keeping my voice soft. “This is drinkable now. It’ll help you feel better.”
She hesitated, then reached up to remove her mask. And for the first time, I saw her face.
Her beauty was beyond anything I could have imagined. Without the mask, her features seemed even more delicate. Her nose had a slight pink tint, probably from the cold, making her look incredibly endearing. Her lips—soft, rosy, and natural—were like petals of a flower.
I caught myself staring and quickly looked away, pretending to busy myself with something else. What am I even noticing? I thought, silently scolding myself.
Just then, the door opened, and one of the peons entered, carrying a steaming cup of coffee and a small plate of biscuits. He placed them carefully on the table in front of her.
Curious, I asked, “Who sent this?”
“The President, sir,” the peon replied. “He told me to bring a cup of coffee and something to eat for Anya ma’am.”
I nodded. “Alright. If she needs anything else, I’ll let you know. You can go for now.”
The peon gave a polite nod and added, “But, sir, once ma’am finishes the coffee, I’ll come back to take the cup.”
“Fine,” I said, dismissing him with a wave of my hand.
As I turned back to Anya, I noticed the empty coffee cup on the table. My eyebrows furrowed. Wait… she already drank it?
I couldn’t help but feel a small twinge of frustration. She had finished it so quickly, without even hesitating. Why did she drink it so fast? And why, after I just said coffee isn’t good for her?
These thoughts swirled in my mind, but I said nothing, masking my annoyance. Instead, I watched her quietly, wondering what it was about her that stirred such a storm in me.
As soon as the peon left with the empty coffee cup, I quietly got up, locking the door behind him. The sound of the rain outside grew louder, filling the room with an almost eerie rhythm.
I turned back, walking toward her. Standing close enough for my voice to be a whisper, I asked, “How could you drink that coffee when I specifically told you to stick to hot water?”
The words spilled out before I could stop myself. My tone was firmer than I intended, and I instantly regretted it. What am I doing? Why am I being so petty over something so trivial?
Before I could apologize, she spoke softly, her voice trembling, “I’m… I’m sorry.”
Her apology was laced with fear, her words broken as though she didn’t know how to explain herself. “I thought… I thought…” she trailed off.
But I stopped her mid-sentence, waving a hand dismissively. “Forget it,” I said, though my mind was far from letting it go.
How could someone be this innocent? I wondered. This entire building belongs to her father, and one day it’ll belong to her. She could have anyone removed with just a word, yet here she is, so fragile, so apologetic over something as insignificant as coffee.
And yet, the more she stood there, the more I wanted to keep pushing her—to see how far her innocence would go. There was something strangely satisfying about teasing her, though I couldn’t explain why.
But then, a question arose in my mind. Why the hell am I doing this? Why do I want to unsettle her so much?
My feet carried me closer to her without thinking. Leaning slightly toward her, I whispered in her ear, “You can’t just escape this with a simple sorry. I told you—you can’t escape so easily.”
She flinched, her breath hitching, and I could see the panic rising in her. Her voice cracked as she said, “Why… why are you coming so close to me?
“Anya” — I already said sorry. I should have asked before drinking it. I made a mistake. Please forgive me. Please…”
Her words broke as tears welled up in her eyes, spilling down her cheeks. She kept repeating “please” as though her very existence depended on my forgiveness.
The rain outside grew heavier, the sound drowning out everything else. The dimly lit room felt heavier, and darker, with only the faint glow of the bulletproof window letting in the gray stormy light.
I stepped back slightly, watching her crumble under the weight of her emotions. Something shifted inside me. Why do I feel so satisfied seeing her like this? Why does her vulnerability make me want to both protect her and push her further?
But as she cried, something else stirred in me. Enough. I couldn’t bear it anymore.
I placed a hand on her shoulder, gently pulling her toward me. Her head rested against my chest as I whispered, “It’s okay. You don’t need to be afraid. Everyone makes mistakes. It’s not a big deal.”
As I held her, I couldn’t help but wonder why I’d even scolded her in the first place. It was just a cup of coffee—hardly worth the tears she was shedding.
At that moment, I remembered the question I’d asked myself before: Have you ever met someone so pure, so untouched by the cruelty of the world, that you feel an overwhelming urge to protect them at any cost?
But what if, deep down, you’re the very danger they need protection from?
My mind swirled with thoughts. We like to think we know how we’d act in such situations, but do we? Are we truly the protectors we imagine ourselves to be, or are we, too, capable of being the predator?
Lost in these thoughts, I realized she’d stopped crying. Her sobs had quieted, and she now lay still against me. My hand instinctively reached for her face, brushing away the stray strands of hair that had fallen over her eyes, tucking them gently behind her ear.
Her eyes met mine again, wide and glistening, searching for something—perhaps reassurance, perhaps understanding.
I didn’t let go. Instead, I leaned in slightly, my voice low as I said, “I told you… you can’t escape so easily. Every mistake comes with a price, and you deserve your punishment. It’ll be good for you.”
At that, she broke down again, her tears soaking into my shirt as she pleaded, “Please, just forgive me. Just this once, please…”
And yet, as she cried, all I could think was how painfully beautiful she looked. Her innocence and fragility were both her greatest strength and her deepest flaw.
My mind spiraled with countless thoughts. How is it so easy to take control over someone? How can a person surrender themselves so quickly?
The realization struck me hard—someone could easily manipulate her, use her to reach her father and exploit the information they’d obtain. The naivety she carried was dangerous in a world like this.
I looked her in the eyes, her tears still clinging to her lashes, and said, “No… forgiveness isn’t for you, little girl.”
Her wide, tear-filled eyes met mine, a fragile innocence etched into her face.
“So now,” I continued, my voice firm, “are you ready for your punishment?”
She hesitated, visibly nervous. “Is it necessary?” she asked softly, her voice quivering.
“Why not?” I said, my tone unwavering.
“Everyone deserves one chance to rectify their mistakes,” she replied, her voice barely audible but firm.
“Who told you that?” I asked, narrowing my gaze.
“M-my teacher… she once said it to me,” she stammered, looking down at her hands.
I leaned forward slightly, speaking with deliberate intensity. “Listen carefully. In real life, things never go the way you think they will. You don’t always get a second chance to fix your mistakes. The world doesn’t work like that.”
Her eyes were glued to mine now, unblinking, absorbing every word.
“Your father and I work in an organization where we often face missions where we only get one shot to make a decision. The outcome of those decisions doesn’t just affect us—it decides the lives of countless people. Some of them are innocent, dream-filled individuals who’ve never known the cruelty of this world.
One wrong move, one mistake on our part, and their lives are changed forever. Life doesn’t give you the luxury of going back and fixing things. Only a handful of people are lucky enough to get that chance. The rest… they spend their lives drowning in regret.”
She flinched slightly at the weight of my words, but I didn’t stop.
“The truth is, people repeat their mistakes. They convince themselves they’ll fix things later, that they’ll get another chance to make their lives better. But that’s a lie.
It’s not their fault entirely, though. Our education system prepares us for exams, but never for the practical realities of life. Even after graduating, most people fail to succeed because they’ve never been taught how to navigate this world. They dream big but are unequipped to make those dreams a reality.
Only a few manage to survive, to turn their dreams into truth. The world calls them ‘lucky,’ believing that God favors them while ignoring the rest. But the reality? Those so-called ‘lucky’ people were just the ones who figured out life’s darkest truths in time. They realized no one was coming to save them. No one will hand them success. They prepared themselves, knowing that life doesn’t hand out second chances.”
Her gaze didn’t waver, her eyes fixed on mine, unblinking, absorbing the harsh truths I was laying bare.
After a long pause, she spoke, her voice trembling. “So… you mean you won’t forgive me?”
I let out a small laugh. “That’s the truth, whether you believe it or not. Now, I hope you understand why this punishment is necessary for you… my little cat.”
Her eyebrows furrowed slightly as she tilted her head. “Your… cat?”
I smirked, leaning back slightly. “Yes. Because every time I look into your eyes, you remind me of a homeless kitten, drenched in the rain, standing outside doors that never open for her. She looks like she wants to cry like she wants to say something, but something invisible holds her back. Don’t you see it?”
She didn’t respond. She just looked at me, the silence in the room stretching out between us.
For a moment, the only sound was the relentless rain outside, its heavy rhythm filling the dimly lit room. The soft light from the lone window illuminated her face, the shadows accentuating the vulnerability in her expression.
Finally, she lowered her gaze to her feet and asked in a hesitant, trembling voice, “So… what punishment will I get?”
Her voice carried a fear she couldn’t hide, a restlessness I could feel deep in my chest.
I didn’t answer immediately. I could sense her anticipation, her unease, as if every second of silence was adding to the weight she was carrying.
The rain continued to pour outside, each drops a reminder of the storm building inside both of us.
How strange is this? We never act the way we think we would. And then, when reality hits, we wonder—was that really me? Why did I do that?
Yet, despite all these thoughts, something kept pushing me forward, an unseen force compelling me to act. And in the end, I surrendered to it.
Breaking the silence, I said, “It’s okay, this won’t be too hard for you.”
She looked at me, her tear-filled eyes trembling with hesitation.
“But… ahm… okay,” she murmured.
“Your punishment is simple—just hold your ears with your hands and do 20 sit-ups. That’s all. Sounds easy, doesn’t it?” I said casually.
She seemed confused for a moment, like she wanted to protest, but she chose silence instead.
“Hurry up,” I urged.
She nodded and, without another word, grabbed her ears with both hands, lowering herself into the first sit-up.
I don’t know why, but watching her do it made something twist inside me – pity for her, disgust for myself. Why was I punishing a girl for a mistake she never even made? And that too, she is president’s daughter. If he found out about this, forget my job—I wouldn’t even know if I’d survive.
But still… something about making her obey, watching her follow my command—it thrilled me in a way I couldn’t explain.
When she finished, she was exhausted. No one had ever punished her before—until now.
And then, she broke down. Loud, uncontrollable sobs echoed in the room.
I panicked. If someone heard her, I was finished. Without thinking, I rushed forward, placing my hand over her mouth, trying to silence her.
“Please… stop crying,” I whispered urgently.
But she didn’t stop.
And suddenly, regret crashed over me. Had I gone too far? What was I doing? Was this really me?
Her sobs became unbearable, clawing at something inside me. Frustrated, I snapped and then I said, “Shut up! Otherwise, you’ll have to pay for this too!”
And just like that—everything stopped.
She went completely silent,A wave of relief washed over me.
But her eyes… they were still drowning in tears. She was trembling, struggling to hold back the pain. I thought I had regained control, but then—she started crying again.
This time, it wasn’t loud. Just soft, broken sobs.
And I couldn’t take it anymore.
“It’s okay,” I muttered, my voice softer now. “Nothing happened… it’s over. No more punishment. Just… stop crying.”
“No more punishment… Please?” she asked between her sobs, her voice trembling.
(Ah… God, she looked so adorable at that moment.)
“No, no more punishment,” I assured her gently. “But promise me… you’ll listen to me from now on.”
She nodded in agreement, her teary eyes still locked onto mine.
I guided her to the sofa, helping her sit down. Pouring warm water from the kettle into a glass, I handed it to her.
She hesitated, refusing to drink.
“Please, just a little,” I coaxed softly.
She still hesitated, so I lifted the glass to her lips and helped her drink, letting her sip slowly.
“Feeling better now?” I asked.
She nodded again.
“You can take off this tie. It might make you feel more comfortable,” I suggested.
She didn’t respond. She just kept looking at me, her gaze unreadable.
“Should I… remove it for you?” I asked cautiously.
Still, no answer.
I moved closer, now able to hear her soft, uneven breaths. The moment I reached for her tie, she instinctively closed her eyes, bracing herself.
But I didn’t remove it entirely. I only loosened it a little and unfastened the top button of her shirt so she could breathe more comfortably.
As I leaned back, she slowly opened her eyes, glancing down at her loosened tie.
“Relax,” I said calmly. “Everything is normal here. I’m not trying to take advantage of you.”
She didn’t say anything.
I glanced at the clock hanging on the wall—it was already 9 PM.
Dinner time.
But the meeting was still ongoing.
For me, this wasn’t unusual. Important meetings often stretched late into the night, especially when discussing matters of great significance.
Then I asked Anya, “Are you hungry?”
“A little,” she replied, her voice tinged with nervousness.
“Okay, I’ll arrange dinner for you,” I said.
I stepped out and told the office peon to bring dinner for Anya.
( 15 Minutes Later )
The peon arrived and placed the dinner on the table near the sofa before leaving.
I turned to Anya, “The meeting is still going on, but don’t worry. President sir will probably have dinner with the guests. I’m not sure how long the meeting will last, but it seems really important. So, you should eat.”
“And what about you? Won’t you eat?” she asked.
(I couldn’t understand why she was concerned about me.)
“I usually skip dinner at night, so you go ahead,” I replied.
Suddenly, she stood up and took a step forward, but in her haste, her foot got caught in the carpet, and she tripped.
I quickly rushed to her side, helping her up. “Are you okay? What were you trying to do?”
She started crying.
I gently placed my hand over her mouth and whispered, “It’s okay, don’t cry. It happens sometimes. It’s just a small fall.”
I helped her sit on the sofa. Her knee was injured—blood was slowly seeping out. But from the looks of it, the wound wasn’t fresh; it seemed like she had been hurt there before.
“Did you get hurt here before?” I asked.
She nodded.
Then, after a brief silence, she muttered, “At school.”
“Did someone bully you?” I asked.
She didn’t answer.
I bandaged her wound carefully. “It’s not deep. You’ll be fine soon,” I reassured her.
She mumbled softly, “Th…thank you.”
“By the way, what were you trying to do?” I asked.
“Handwash,” she replied.
I chuckled.
“Why are you laughing?” she asked, pouting slightly.
“Nothing. Now, eat your dinner,” I said, smiling.
She slowly started eating.
I don’t know why, but suddenly, I stopped her.
“Let me help you,” I said, reaching out.
I placed my hand on her waist and gently pulled her closer. Then, I began feeding her myself.
She didn’t resist. She just quietly ate from my hands.
I could hear her heartbeat clearly—so fast… faster than the rainstorm outside.
Once dinner was done, I could see exhaustion in her eyes. She was sleepy, though she tried to hide it.
“Take some rest,” I told her. “The meeting will take some more time.”
“I’m not sleepy,” she insisted.
“Oh? Someone is disobeying orders again… Do they want another punishment?” I teased.
Her eyes widened in panic. “No, no! Please!”
I chuckled. “Okay, then sleep like a sweet little cat. Understand?”
She hesitated for a moment, then lay down on the sofa, closing her eyes.
then I returned to my desk and continued my remaining work.
After Half Past Ten
My work was finally done. I stood up and walked over to check on Anya. She was in deep sleep, looking completely at peace, as if all her worries had melted away. She seemed exhausted, yet now, she was resting so peacefully.
Some strands of her hair had fallen over her right eye. Gently, I moved them aside. She didn’t react.
In that moment, my hand brushed against her cheek, and suddenly, my heart began pounding faster. I closed my eyes, trying to steady my thoughts. Then, a question ran through my mind—Should I kiss her?
Oh God, no.
There was no way I could take advantage of someone so innocent. But then, another thought whispered, “It’s just a small kiss on the cheek… Not a big deal, right?”
I shook my head, trying to push the thought away. Controlling the sudden urge, I grabbed a glass of water and took a sip. No. I should wait for her to wake up. Doing anything without her permission wasn’t right… Was it?
I sighed and sat beside her. The clock now read half past twelve—time was moving so fast.
I found myself gently running my fingers through her hair, softly caressing her head. I wasn’t sure why, but it felt calming.
Then, a sudden thought crossed my mind—I wanted to hear her heartbeat.
So, I leaned in closer.
But just as I was about to—
She woke up.
Her sleepy eyes widened as she looked at me, confusion turning into suspicion.
“What are you trying to do?” she asked.
“Nothing much,” I replied, leaning back slightly.
Her expression changed. “Were you trying to take advantage of me while I was asleep?”
I frowned. Why would she think that?
Instead of answering directly, I decided to tease her. “Yes, why not? Actually, I already did quite a lot,” I said with a smirk.
Her face turned pale. Fear and shock flickered in her eyes.
“What? What do you mean?” she asked, her voice trembling.
I leaned closer, keeping my expression unreadable. “I mean exactly what I said.”
She didn’t reply, just lowered her head.
A moment later, I noticed something—tears began welling up in her eyes.
I immediately softened. “Hey, don’t cry,” I said gently. “I was just kidding. Just teasing you. I didn’t do anything to you. I was just… listening to your heartbeat. That’s all.”
“Now, don’t cry, little cat… okay?” I added with a smile.
She hesitated, then slowly nodded.
But then, a playful thought crossed my mind.
“Well, I didn’t do anything earlier,” I said, tilting my head. “But… can I do something now?”
She immediately looked up at me, startled.
“What do you mean?” she asked, confusion in her voice.
I smirked and suddenly pulled her closer, wrapping an arm around her waist. Now, I could hear her breathing—soft, uneven, a little shaky.
“Should I explain what I mean?” I murmured. “Or… should I just show you?”
She started mumbling something, but her words were barely audible.
“What happened? Do you have any problem?” I asked.
She didn’t answer.
I sighed. “Okay, I think you don’t want this. It’s fine. My mind is not in my control right now, so I’ll go outside for some air. I’ll be back after the meeting ends.”
“No… please don’t leave me alone here,” she said, her voice trembling slightly.
I paused.
“Okay,” I said after a moment. “But if you want me to stay, you’ll have to answer my question. Do you have a problem with this? Yes or no?”
She hesitated… then, with nervousness and shyness, she whispered, “No…”
I smirked. “Hey… why… why are you so cute?”
She didn’t answer—just kept staring at me.
For a few seconds, silence filled the room.
We just… looked at each other.
Then, suddenly—
A noise came from upstairs.
“I think the meeting is over now,” I said to Anya.
She sat back on the sofa while I unlocked the door and returned to my desk. A few seconds later, the door swung open, and her father, the President, walked in. His face beamed with happiness.
“Sam, we finally made it! The issues that had been dragging on for so long are finally getting resolved.”
“That’s incredible news, sir!” I replied.
He then turned to Anya, his eyes softening.
“Are you okay? You look a little sleepy.”
Anya nodded. “I fell asleep for a little while.”
Her father’s expression turned serious. “Did you face any problems here?”
I felt a sudden unease. My heartbeat quickened as Anya’s gaze met mine.
What if she tells him everything?
A few seconds of silence felt like an eternity.
Then, she looked back at her father and said, “Nothing, Dad. Everything was fine here.”
A wave of relief washed over me.
“Good. Go wait in the car, I’ll be there in two minutes.”
“Okay, Dad,” she said. As she walked toward the door, her eyes lingered on me—just like mine on her. Then, she left.
The President sighed in satisfaction and turned back to me. “Sam, finally… my vision is coming true. Now, I can finally take retirement in peace.”
“Retirement? So suddenly?” I asked, shocked.
He smiled. “Yes. I forgot to discuss it with you. As you know, after my wife separation, Anya has been my entire world. She’s my only child, and I want to give her all the love she deserves. That’s why I’ve decided to shift to another country for her future.”
I processed his words, still trying to absorb the sudden change. “But what about the organization?”
He shrugged. “It will continue running as usual. There will be a new President, though I haven’t decided who yet. Either way, Anya won’t be taking over. She has no interest in this business.”
I frowned. “Then… what does she want to do?”
His next words left me stunned.
“Her passion is in martial arts. She’s excellent at Kung Fu and wants to pursue it as a career.”
For a moment, I couldn’t react.
Wait… what?
Anya… knows martial arts? She knows Kung Fu? Then why didn’t she fight back when I teased her earlier? Why did she quietly accept the punishment?
And that injury on her knee—was that from training?
Was she pretending to be weak and innocent?
Or… was there another reason?
Did she feel unsafe being alone in the school?
Or was that an act too?
I couldn’t tell.
These thoughts kept circling in my mind, layer after layer of confusion.
The President patted my shoulder. “Alright, I should get going. Have a good night, Sam.”
“Good night, sir,” I replied absentmindedly.
After he left, I, too, stepped out of headquarters. It was late—around 1 AM—but since my house wasn’t far, I decided to walk.
The dim streetlights flickered, casting long shadows on the wet pavement. The scent of rain lingered in the air.
The glowing lights reminded me of that window… the one where the rain could be seen so clearly.
I couldn’t understand what had happened tonight.
Was Anya really as innocent as she seemed?
Or was she much smarter and sharper than I had thought?
And why…
Why was I feeling this strange pull toward her?
Was I attracted to her?
Would I ever see her again?
Would she remember me the way I will remembering her?
I don’t know.
But I will wait for the moment when her eyes meet mine again.
maybe it will be impossible
But I hope it will happen again…
THE END
In the era of Noises Everywhere – I still prefer to listen the Voice of Rain !!