CHAPTER 4 : UNEXPECTED RIDE HOME
832 Words
The moment I saw him standing in front of the elevator, my heart sank. Of course. Why is my day like this? I whispered silently, my steps slowing even though there was nowhere else to go.
Turning back would look suspicious.
Waiting would look worse.
So I did the only thing I could—I stepped in.
The elevator doors slid shut behind us with a soft ding. Silence.
Not the peaceful kind, but the heavy, suffocating kind that pressed against my chest and and made every breath feel too loud.
I stood stiffly near the corner, gripping my bag as if it were a life-saving device.
His presence was undeniable.
Tall.
Calm.
Unbothered.
He held his phone, one hand in his pocket, and didn’t glance at me once. Not once. Which should have been a relief. But somehow… it wasn’t.
Does he really not recognize me? Or is he pretending?
Is this how powerful people punish others—with silence?
I stole a quick glance at him.
Big mistake.
Up close, he was even more unfairly handsome. Sharp features, relaxed but distant, like someone who had mastered emotional control.
No sign of recognition.
No sign of anger.
No sign of anything.
That scared me more than if he had looked annoyed.
The elevator stopped briefly on another floor.
No one entered.
The doors closed.
Silence stretched longer, heavier.
My heart pounded.
I felt trapped inside my own nerves.
Finally, we reached the parking lot.
Ding.
The doors slid open.
I stepped forward, ready to escape—but he held the door open for me.
I froze.
A gentleman? Not an arrogant boss?
That tiny gesture caught me off guard.
“Oh… thank you,” I said, voice softer than I intended.
He nodded briefly and followed behind me.
I walked faster, pretending I wasn’t rushing.
My motorcycle waited where I had parked it earlier.
I dropped my bag,
inserted the key, and tried to start the engine. Nothing. Not again. Not now.
I tried once more .
Still nothing.
“What is really happening today?” I muttered.
His footsteps approached.
He stopped beside me. “What’s wrong with it?” he asked calmly.
“I… I don’t really know,” I admitted, refusing to meet his eyes.
He crouched beside the bike, inspecting it. I stared at the ground, embarrassed. Watching my boss fix my motorcycle was not on my list of things to survive today.
He tried starting it.
Still nothing.
He pulled out his phone and made a quick call.
“Hello, please come and check my motorcycle at the parking lot,” he said.
He turned to me
“Leave it here. Someone will come fix it. You should be able to use it by tomorrow,” he said.
Relief loosened something tight in my chest. Maybe… maybe he really wasn’t angry.
“Thank you,” I said sincerely.
He nodded and walked toward his car.
I watched him leave, then glanced around.
Another problem—it was already late.
Where would I find a taxi at this hour?
Then I heard a horn.
I turned It was him.
“It’ll be difficult to find a taxi this late,” he said, rolling down the window. “Get in. I’ll drop you off.”
I hesitated.
Not because of the ride.
But because of who I would be sitting next to.
My boss.
The man whose first impression of me was coffee on his clothes and a dollar apology.
I had no choice.
I opened the door and got in.
The car smelled faintly of leather and something clean—cologne, maybe.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
I told him my address.
Silence fell, heavier than the elevator.
My hands rested stiffly on my lap, my body tense.
He turned on the radio.
Soft music filled the car, easing the tightness in my chest slightly.
“So,” he said casually, eyes on the road, “you were coming for an interview here that day.” “Yes,” I admitted quietly.
He nodded.
“That’s good. You got it after all the chaos you went through.”
I smiled carefully. “I… I want to apologize again for the coffee incident.”
“It’s fine,” he replied. “Nothing was ruined."
I looked down at my hands.
He reached into his pocket and placed something on my palm.
I stared.
A dollar.
“The balance,” he said, a faint smile in his voice. For a second I didn’t understand.
Then it hit me.
The same dollar I had given him.
Returned.
I laughed—softly at first, then a little more.
It was ridiculous.
Embarrassing.
Human.
He smiled briefly, eyes still on the road.
The tension in my shoulders eased. Maybe this day wasn’t as bad as I thought.
Maybe small moments mattered more than first impressions.
And maybe—just maybe—things were not as hopeless as I believed.
- Writer
