Chapter4: What If?
655 Words
The evening was warm, heavy with the distant hum of traffic, the busy road to her home.
Normally she finds comfort in the ordinary rhythm of the city, the peace of her finally going to her space, her bed.
The chatter of neighbors, the flickering lights from small apartments, the sound of life continuing no matter how hard things became, but tonight it felt different, everything felt distant, like she was watching her own life from afar.
She unlocked the door to her apartment, stepping inside, a huge wind blew from her window she forgot to close while leaving for work this morning.
It was a small room, a narrow kitchen and a bathroom barely big enough to turn around in.
The old paint that is almost done peeling near the ceiling and the loud clicking sound of her fan every time it rolls. All this but it was hers, her space and her comfort.
She set her bag down slowly and sat on the edge of her bed.
“Let’s get married.” That statement again.
She pressed her palm against her face, exhaling deeply.
She doesn’t want this, she has worked too hard to build something steady for her to be standing at the edge of a decision that could change everything.
Her eyes drifted to the small wooden frame on her bedside table.
It held the only photograph she owned of her parents, she was only eight when they died. Too young to understand why the world suddenly became colder, quieter, less forgiving.
The orphanage had taught her many things, how to fight for space, how to survive on little and how to trust no one who offered kindness too easily.
But it had also taught her something else, security was never permanent and opportunities rarely came twice.
Sumayah lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling as the fan turned slowly above her.
If she refused Omarion, she could lose everything anyway. If the company fell into new hands, she would be just another employee they replaced without hesitation.
Six years of struggle could vanish in a week.
Her chest tightened at the thought.
“I hate this,” she whispered.
She fell into deep thinking of what could be done and the best decision she could make.
Omarion couldn’t go home, The light in his office remained on even after the rest of the building went dark.
Papers scattered everywhere on his desk, financial projections, legal advisories, acquisition threats disguised as partnerships.
Every document told the same story and time was running out.
He loosened his tie, leaning back in his chair, eyes closed for just a moment, exhaustion pressed against him, but sleep was impossible. Every time he shut his eyes, he saw his father’s face.
Disappointed. Stern. Unyielding.
“You don’t build an empire by thinking small, Omarion,” his father used to say. “And you don’t keep one by trusting people’s emotions.”
Marriage had been his father’s condition, not his dream. A calculated move to ensure stability in leadership, to prevent scandals, to force maturity.
Omarion let out a quiet, humorless laugh.
“Congratulations, Father, he thought bitterly. You won.”
A soft knock interrupted his thoughts.
“Come in.” With a tired voice.
His assistant from the legal department stepped inside, holding a file. “Sir, the board meeting has been rescheduled for tomorrow morning.”
“Good.”
“And… Blackwood Holdings has requested another review of our ownership structure.” The man said with a lot of hesitation.
“Of course they had.” Omarion letting out a sign.
“They’re circling,” the assistant said carefully.
“I know,” Omarion replied.
The man hesitated. “Do you have a plan, sir?”
Omarion’s gaze drifted toward the glass wall, toward the empty desk outside where Sumayah usually sat.
“Yes,” he said quietly. “I do.”
- Writer
