WONDERING WONDERLAND

THE MAGIC WORLD

"There are eight seats at your table," whispered the neatly dressed young woman keeping pace beside me as we entered the ballroom.

That was Juda, my secretary. Her voice was barely audible, little more than a breath arranged into words, yet every sentence was clear and orderly, like rows in a perfectly organized spreadsheet.

I understood her.

"To your right is Mrs. Saitako, followed by Mr. Saitako. To your left is Mr. Tanuja, the CEO of Steel NZ. Directly across from you are Mr. Kadery's nephew and his wife, Ms. Luna, followed by Mr. Kenzuro and Mrs. Kadery."

She adjusted her pace carefully, making sure she did not step on the train of my gown as it trailed across the marble floor. Every so often, her eyes darted toward the tablet in her hand, matching each name to the distinctive accessories worn by the guests.

"Mr. Tanuja is wearing a charcoal-gray suit, a white pocket square, and a watch with a dark leather strap. Mr. Kenzuro has a burgundy bow tie. Ms. Luna is wearing a silver butterfly brooch. Mrs. Kadery has on a brown suit with a patterned pocket square."

She held out her tablet, making sure I could look again at the photographs of the people she had just described.

I obliged.

I studied the rows of photographs for a long moment, as though reading a map of an unfamiliar city, then repeated the identifying details silently, memorizing them like a code: burgundy, silver, charcoal gray, patterned brown. Bow tie, brooch, suit, pocket square.

Those were my only points of reference, and so far, they had always been enough.

"VIP Table Two is reserved for the chairman of BP Batam and the board members. The table behind you is for the Japanese delegation. The table to your right is for Steel Lamiere Singapore, Malaysia, and India, along with the executives from..."

Her voice briefly disappeared beneath the clinking of glasses and bursts of laughter, but I caught the end of her sentence: the names of the VIP guests I had glanced at earlier on the screen.

Big names. People who might approach me before the night was over, hands extended and smiles carefully rehearsed. They knew exactly what they wanted from my position, and I knew perfectly well that it had nothing to do with me.

I gave a slight nod, enough to reassure her that I had noticed and appreciated all the work she had put in today. Then she stepped back discreetly toward the edge of the ballroom, taking her place among the shadows cast by the pillars. From there, she watched the entire event with the vigilance of a lighthouse keeper.

She understood me better than most people I knew.

We had worked together for more than eight years, ever since we were both financial staff on the third floor, sharing a photocopier that was always jamming and instant coffee that was always too sweet. When I was promoted, I brought her with me to the highest floor of the Steel Lamiere building and made her my personal secretary.

Not out of gratitude. Because I knew that up there, I needed someone who had seen me before I became anyone at all.

We weren't close friends, just colleagues.

I had no desire to make our relationship anything more than work. Perhaps that was how we protected one another. Some things cracked when you touched them too often. She never asked about my life, and I never asked about hers. In a world where everything was a transaction, we had chosen to leave one small corner untouched by calculation.

"Your earrings suit you," said a middle-aged woman beside me on the right.

The corners of her bright red lips curved into a faint smile. She embraced me with a few gentle pats on the shoulder, each one feeling like an official stamp: You've been examined. You've passed. For now.

Her voice carried a slight emphasis, soft on the surface but heavy underneath, like velvet concealing iron.

I knew who she was from the black-tea notes in her perfume and the emerald ring on her ring finger. Mrs. Saitako, the younger sister of Steel Lamiere's president.

She was also the woman who had given me the diamond set I was wearing tonight: earrings, a necklace, and a delicate bracelet that felt cool against my wrist.

A gift I could neither refuse nor treat as merely a gift.

When the giver outranked even the president I reported to, every present was a statement. Every diamond was a reminder of who held the other end of the leash.

"Thank you, Madam," I replied, dipping my head slightly—respectful enough without appearing submissive. Twenty-eight years of living had taught me how to get that balance right. "I'm honored to wear them tonight."

"Honored," she repeated softly, as though tasting the word.

Her eyes traveled across my face, descended to the necklace, then returned to meet mine.

"You've always been good at choosing your words, Nabi."

I smiled.

It was the same smile I wore in meeting rooms, in front of auditors, and across the table from bankers. A smile I had practiced for so long that sometimes I forgot whether there was another face beneath it.

Honestly, if it weren't for my position, I wouldn't be here tonight.

There would be no seat at Table Number One, no diamonds around my neck, no smiles across the table weighing me against their expectations.

And Mrs. Saitako understood that. Better than anyone else in the room, she knew that the woman sitting in this chair was merely the position, temporarily wrapped in my name.

Then another fragrance slipped into my awareness from the left: cool cedar, a faint trace of bergamot.

I recognized it before I even turned.

His hand entered my field of vision first. Large, with prominent veins across the back, extended from a perfectly fitted cuff. Above it sat a charcoal-gray suit, a white pocket square tucked neatly into the breast pocket.

Of course.

Mr. Tanuja.

"Ms. Nabi," he said, his voice low and composed.

"Mr. Tanuja. It's good to see you again."

I accepted his hand.

His palm was warm, and his grip lingered half a second longer than a polite handshake should have. Long enough for me to notice, brief enough that I couldn't object without making a scene.

A subtle current seemed to travel from his palm to my wrist, then creep slowly upward, like warm water spreading through fabric.

My skin recognized something my mind had yet to understand.

I withdrew my hand with the same smile. Nothing changed in my expression. Only my fingers, without my permission, curled briefly against the side of my gown, as though trying to preserve the warmth before it evaporated.

Beside me, Mrs. Saitako watched our hands a little longer than necessary.

She said nothing. She merely raised her glass by an inch, then lowered it again, like someone making a note in an invisible ledger.

Chairs began to scrape back. I smoothed my gown as the guests gradually took their seats, one after another. Across from me, Mr. Kadery's nephew raised his glass in my direction with a small nod, polite yet appraising.

Mr. Tanuja's fingers resumed their tapping against the tablecloth: three taps, a pause, then three more, like someone counting his words before speaking.

But as the pianist in the corner began a gentler passage, each note falling like a drop of water into a still pond, my thoughts returned to my mother's tin roof and the sound of rain I had once believed was the most beautiful music in the world.

Beneath the relentless shimmer of the dancing crystal lights, I wondered silently, without allowing my smile to falter:

Who, exactly, was dreaming tonight?

The girl from the house with the tin roof, now seated at Table Number One?

Or this magnificent ballroom, which had no idea that among all its guests was someone still counting her steps, afraid of putting a foot wrong?

Wondering Wonderland.

The magical world I now inhabited was so beautiful, so unfamiliar, and I still found myself wondering whether I had truly arrived here at all—or whether I was merely passing through someone else's dream.

Glasses chimed. Someone called my name from the far end of the table.

I drew a breath, straightened my shoulders, and let the evening begin, with all its connections, calculations, and carefully concealed ambitions.