That Voice
1996 Words
I overslept.
Which never happened.
Ever.
My eyes snapped open when sunlight hit my face aggressively through the thin curtains.
For one horrifying second, I just stared at the ceiling in confusion.
Then I saw the time.
8:17 AM.
My interview was at nine.
“Oh my God.”
I flew off the mattress so fast I nearly stepped on Jay.
He groaned dramatically from the floor.
“Why are you screaming like a divorced aunt?”
“My interview!”
Jay opened one eye lazily.
“…Oh.”
“OH?” I repeated. “OH?”
“You still have time.”
“It takes forty minutes to get there!”
Jay sat up slowly while scratching his messy hair.
“You should panic prettier.”
“I’m going to die.”
“You say that every morning.”
I ran toward the tiny bathroom while grabbing random clothes from the chair.
Behind me, Jay shouted—
“Wear the black pants.”
“They’re dirty!”
“They look expensive!”
“That’s because they’re black!”
“You’re welcome!”
I shut the bathroom door dramatically.
Everything after that became chaos.
My eyeliner betrayed me.
My hair refused cooperation.
And the cheap iron nearly burned my shirt.
At one point, I just stood there staring at myself in the mirror.
I looked exhausted.
Which made sense.
Because apparently talking to mysterious men until almost two in the morning was ruining my life now.
Fantastic.
I rushed out of the bathroom while trying to put on one earring.
Jay was sitting cross-legged on the mattress eating cereal directly from the box.
He looked me up and down seriously.
“Hm.”
“What?”
“You look like a woman about to reject poor men permanently.”
“I look stressed.”
“Same thing.”
I grabbed my bag quickly.
Then paused near the door.
“Do I look okay?”
Jay blinked.
Then softer—
“You look beautiful.”
The answer caught me off guard slightly.
Mostly because Jay usually communicated through nonsense and emotional terrorism.
I stared at him suspiciously.
“You want something.”
“Maybe.”
“What?”
“If you become rich, buy me sneakers.”
“There it is.”
“Size forty-three,” he added proudly.
I laughed despite myself.
Jay pointed at me dramatically.
“See?”
“What?”
“That smile.”
I frowned.
“What smile?”
“The midnight husband smile.”
“Oh my God.”
“You like him.”
“Who?”
“Your midnight husband, obviously.”
“I don’t even know him.”
“That has never stopped women before.”
“You’re seventeen. Why do you talk like a divorced father?”
“Experience.”
“You failed chemistry last week.”
“That’s unrelated.”
I shook my head while rushing toward the door.
Then Jay suddenly called out—
“Wait.”
I turned around impatiently.
“What now?”
“If he turns out ugly, don’t tell me immediately.”
I stared at him.
“Why?”
“I need emotional preparation.”
“You’re deeply unserious.”
“That’s what makes me lovable.”
“Debatable.”
He gasped dramatically.
“You wound me.”
“You’ll survive.”
“Barely.”
I laughed again despite myself.
Jay pointed aggressively.
“There! You’re smiling again!”
“I’m late!”
“You’re emotionally distracted!”
“You’re annoying!”
“And yet unforgettable.”
I opened the door quickly.
Then Jay shouted one last thing—
“Don’t fall in love with rich people!”
“I literally work at a café!”
“Exactly why I’m worried!”
The morning air hit my face immediately after I left the apartment.
Cold.
Bright.
Annoyingly alive.
I hurried toward the bus stop while checking the time every few seconds.
My stomach felt tight.
Not just because of the interview.
Because my brain kept replaying his voice from last night.
You smiled again.
I hated that I remembered the exact tone.
Low.
Quiet.
Careful.
Like hearing me laugh had actually mattered to him.
Which was ridiculous.
He was literally a stranger.
A stranger who refused to say his name.
A stranger who only existed after midnight.
Still…
I found myself checking my phone anyway.
Nothing.
No messages.
No calls.
No “Good morning.”
Not that I expected one.
That would’ve been weird.
Right?
The bus ride felt endless.
Too many people.
Too much perfume.
Too much stress.
By the time I finally stood in front of the building, my anxiety had become physical.
The place was enormous.
Cold glass.
Tall windows.
Everything looked expensive enough to reject me personally.
I stood outside for a second trying to breathe normally.
People in suits walked past confidently while I clutched my bag like financial stress in human form.
A woman beside me glanced briefly at my shoes.
Immediately I hated everyone here.
I entered the building anyway.
The lobby alone looked richer than my entire future.
Clean marble floors.
Quiet conversations.
Employees walking around with coffee and confidence.
A giant company logo stretched across the wall behind the reception desk.
Vale Group.
I suddenly felt underdressed.
And underqualified.
And emotionally unemployed.
The receptionist smiled politely.
“Interview?”
“Yes.”
“Name?”
“Isla Bennett.”
She typed quickly before nodding.
“Twenty-second floor.”
Twenty-second?
Even the elevator felt expensive.
Soft music.
Mirror walls.
No fingerprints anywhere somehow.
Rich people really lived differently.
I fixed my shirt nervously while staring at my reflection.
“You’re fine,” I whispered to myself.
A lie.
But an encouraging lie.
When the elevator doors opened, I stepped into a massive office floor that somehow looked both beautiful and terrifying.
Everything was quiet.
Organized.
Sharp.
Even the employees looked expensive.
Nobody looked confused.
Nobody looked sleep-deprived.
Nobody looked like they had eaten noodles three nights in a row.
A woman with sleek black hair approached me holding a tablet.
“You’re here for the assistant interview?”
I nodded quickly.
She smiled politely.
“I’m Elena.”
Beautiful.
Like aggressively beautiful.
Perfect makeup.
Perfect posture.
Perfect everything.
And somehow…
cold.
Not rude.
Just distant in that elegant kind of way.
She led me toward a waiting area.
“Mr. Vale is still in a meeting,” she said calmly.
I froze slightly.
Mr. Vale.
Right.
The CEO.
The terrifying billionaire I was trying not to think about.
“Relax,” Elena said suddenly.
I blinked.
“You look nervous.”
“I am nervous.”
“That’s normal.”
Her voice softened slightly.
“He’s difficult sometimes. Don’t take it personally.”
Something about the way she said it felt…
familiar.
Like she knew him beyond work.
Before I could think too hard about that, another man suddenly appeared from the hallway.
Tall.
Sharp suit.
Annoyingly attractive.
Even his smile looked expensive.
“Well,” he said casually, looking me over. “You definitely don’t look like the others.”
I frowned immediately.
“The others?”
“The women applying.” His lips twitched slightly. “You look less terrifying.”
I stared at him.
“That almost sounded like a compliment.”
“Almost.”
Elena sighed tiredly.
“Vincent, stop flirting with candidates.”
“Who said I’m flirting?”
“You’re smiling.”
“That means nothing.”
Elena rolled her eyes before walking away again.
Vincent watched her leave before glancing back at me.
“She scares me a little.”
“She seems nice.”
“She once made a grown man cry during a meeting.”
“Oh.”
“Hm.”
I laughed before I could stop myself.
Vincent smiled slightly.
“There. That’s better.”
“What is?”
“You looked like you were preparing for execution when you walked in.”
“I still am.”
“Nah.” He leaned slightly closer. “Interviews are just professional lying.”
I snorted.
“That’s actually comforting.”
“I’m a comforting person.”
“You flirt with strangers for entertainment.”
“And yet you’re smiling.”
Before I could answer, movement near the hallway suddenly pulled everyone’s attention.
The entire office shifted subtly.
Employees straightened immediately.
Conversations quieted.
Energy changed.
Like someone important was approaching.
The air itself felt different somehow.
Sharp.
Controlled.
And then—
I heard it.
“Move the meeting to four.”
My entire body froze.
That voice.
Low.
Calm.
Quietly tired.
No.
No way.
Slowly—
I turned around.
And the moment I saw him…
my heartbeat stopped completely.
- Writer
