Her Obsession

Chapter 4

I woke even before my alarm rang, perhaps because I wasn’t used to this place. I lay still on the bed, staring at the ceiling, my thoughts drifting back to Inay. I hadn’t realized tears were already sliding down my cheeks until I quickly wiped them away, unwilling for anyone to notice. The room was simple—only a curtain separated me from the rest of the house—so privacy was fragile.

I forced myself to rise, shaking off the heaviness in my chest. I needed to prepare breakfast. Stretching my arms, I walked toward the kitchen.

We both shouted in surprise. Who wouldn’t be startled, finding someone in the kitchen so early, when the sky outside was still dark?

“Ay, hijo! You scared me! ”Aunt Jayse scolded, rolling her eyes at me.

“Sorry, Auntie,” I said, chuckling at her irritation.

“What are you even doing here, child? ” she asked, still annoyed.

“I’ll cook my own breakfast, Auntie. I don’t want to trouble you,” I replied, heading to the dirty kitchen outside. There was a stove inside, but I wasn’t used to it. I preferred the old way.

“Why cook out there? It’s damp, and it might rain! ” she said, worried.

Their dirty kitchen was outside the house, exposed to the early drizzle. But I smiled faintly. “I’ll be fine, Auntie. You know I’m used to this back in the province.”

She sighed, gave up, and returned to bed. I finished cooking, ate quickly, and bathed. By the time I dressed, it was only half past five.

Too early. I sat in the living room, flipping through a pocketbook to pass the time.

When the sun had risen higher, I left. I had already told Auntie the night before that I would be searching for both an apartment and a job. That way, they wouldn’t worry if I wasn’t home when they woke.

I walked the streets, scanning for opportunities. I had finished my studies with a good degree, but luck had never favored me in the province. Professional jobs were scarce, and I had been left behind.

At one office, the boss said flatly, “My secretary will call you.”

Though disappointed, I smiled politely and thanked him. I moved on, entering another building advertising for an assistant manager. After leaving, I prayed silently, asking God to guide me, to let me find something today.

Then fate struck—literally. A flyer slapped against my face, carried by the wind. I grabbed it, ready to throw it away, but the words caught my eye.

Hiring a Male Secretary at Nick Corp.

I frowned. The requirements listed were strange—one of them demanded applicants be “handsome.” I shook my head, but curiosity tugged at me. I hailed a taxi and headed to the address.

When I arrived, I was stunned by the sight: a long line of applicants stretched across the pavement. Everyone was dressed in formal attire, folders in hand, while I stood there in a plain black shirt and trousers. Still, I joined the line, the sun beating down mercilessly.

Some shaded themselves with their folders; others fanned themselves impatiently.

“Is this Nick Corp? ” I asked the man ahead of me.

“Yes. You’re applying too? ”He looked me up and down, his lips curling into a mocking smile when his eyes returned to my face.

“Yes,” I answered simply, ignoring his condescension.

“You should leave, bro. You don’t belong here. I’m sure I’ll get the job,” he said smugly. It felt as though something was wrong with

what I was wearing. A quiet unease settled over me, as if the eyes around me were measuring every detail.

I glanced down at myself, studying my clothes.

“There’s nothing wrong with this,” I muttered under my breath. “It’s neat enough, even a little formal… just not like theirs.”

The line of applicants ahead looked sharp in their suits and polished shoes, folders clutched like shields against the sun. Compared to them, my plain shirt and dark trousers seemed almost out of place. But I straightened my back, refusing to let the doubt gnaw at me.

I remembered Inay’s words: Don’t waste your energy on people who belittle you. Their heads are full of nothing but air.

With that thought, I exhaled slowly, brushed off the insecurity, and fixed my gaze forward. Whatever judgment lingered in their eyes,

I chose to ignore it.

The line moved quickly. The standards here were clearly high—many were being rejected. My nerves grew tighter as my turn

approached. The man ahead of me smirked again.

“I’ll be the one hired,” he said confidently before stepping inside.

I was positioned at the door by a staff member, waiting for my turn.

“You’re not hired! “A woman’s voice rang out from inside.

I flinched at the sound of something being slammed. The office walls were glass but blurred, so I couldn’t see clearly.

“What exactly are you looking for? Most of the applicants are handsome, just like your flyer said! “The man shouted angrily.

“What I need,” the woman inside snapped, “is a man who is a virgin! ”

My brows furrowed. Virgin? For a secretary position? What kind of requirement was that?

I was about to step back, reconsidering, when her voice rang out again.

“Next!”

My hand trembled as I gripped the stainless push bar of the door. Before I could move, the rejected applicant stormed out, his face twisted in irritation. He glanced at me, sneering with a grin that reeked of malice, as if certain I would fail too.

My chest tightened. The weight of expectation, of humiliation, pressed against me. Still, I straightened my back. It was my turn.

The moment I stepped inside, the office swallowed me whole. It was elegant—marble floors, glass walls, the faint scent of polished wood lingering in the air. But none of that mattered. My eyes were drawn instantly to the woman seated at the desk, her presence commanding, almost suffocating.