MEIN: ANTRAPADA

Initial analysis (RUI POV)

Today.

For the past five years, Rui had always observed her from a strictly safe distance: close enough, yet remaining unseen.

Occasionally—whenever there was a lull in between work—he would gather scattered pieces of information without looking like he was trying.

Nothing more than that.

Never anything more than that.

Until today. Today was different. It was one of those days that had been scheduled and anticipated for a very long time, way before anyone else realized this day held any significance.

Rui had been in the office since 05:50.

Not because of an emergency meeting or unfinished assignments—every report had been completed two days ago, well before the deadline, and all data had been validated last night—always double-checked.

He was here early because there was something far more fascinating to observe in person rather than through a screen.

The busiest corner of the lobby.

The peak elevator rush hour.

The route most likely taken by someone entering the building for the very first time—including the attire she would wear.

Rui already knew the answers. But confirmation was always superior to mere assumption.

At 07:25, her silhouette entered the building with slightly hurried steps—her shoulders were dropped, her pace a bit slower than usual, and she seemed to be catching her breath as if she had been running. It was relief, not the tension he had anticipated.

Rui noted this from his vantage point on the thirteenth floor, where the monitor displaying the live feed of the entire main lobby flickered on the left corner of his desk.

This was different from the years he had spent watching from afar.

Perhaps this was the first time he was truly drawing near to what he desired—gradual, measured. He had planned everything in stages so it would fit seamlessly and appear perfectly natural. No mistakes. No one would know.

Even she had no idea that Rui was the one ensuring she felt that way. Making her feel as though she was the one making all the decisions.

"Rui, let's go—the meeting is about to start." Lucas’s voice from the adjacent cubicle broke Rui’s focus from the recording.

Rui closed the lobby feed on his screen and stood up without needing to verbally reply to Lucas. He walked toward the elevator, followed by Lucas, who was already well-accustomed to his minimal verbal responsiveness.

Would she be downstairs right now? Or was she already gathered in the orientation room, introducing herself to people who knew absolutely nothing about her? Interesting.

✦

"Rui, today is the new hire orientation." Lucas spoke as they walked, a habit of his since they first met. Never stopping to talk. "Aren't you curious about them? I want to get to know one of them, can you help me out? You're handling their initial project, right?" A barrage of questions that required no answers.

Rui gave a slight shrug—a gesture that, to Lucas, was always enough to close a conversation, even if its meaning was never entirely clear.

He refocused on the report in his hand. Examining the third column from the left—there was an inconsistency in the numbers compared to last week's projection. It could be an input error, or it could be something more systemic. He flagged it.

The elevator doors slid open.

Lucas stepped in first, still talking about the new hires with an enthusiasm Rui could never comprehend the source of. Rui followed, his eyes still glued to the pages of the report.

The third number from the bottom also needed to be re-checked.

How did this slip through?

Rui scoffed quietly, displeased.First floor.

The elevator doors opened and Rui stepped out, his eyes mostly still on the report—not because he wasn't paying attention to his surroundings, but because he already knew exactly what was in his surroundings. The morning lobby.

Two receptionists. Three employees who always arrived earlier than the rest. The janitorial staff going about their duties.

And one new variable.

He saw her a second before their paths crossed.

A fraction of a second—enough to note: her hair was neatly tied into a bun, not let down like that night in the library. A different shirt, but worn the exact same way, like someone who chose her outfit with heavy consideration rather than mere habit. Her back was toward the elevator, her body half-turned toward the reception desk.

Rui did not slow his pace.

They met at the exact same corner, at the exact same second.

The coffee cup in his hand tilted—reflexively, he pulled back before it could spill further, but it wasn't quick enough to prevent it entirely. A small splash had already caught the sleeve of the jacket on the woman in front of him.

"Sorry—" the voice was soft.

The woman turned, her eyes instantly scanning him from head to toe—not in an impolite manner, but more like someone deeply accustomed to assessing a situation before reacting.

A habit Rui recognized instantly, because he did the exact same thing himself.

"It's fine. Don't worry about it." Rui’s voice sounded calmer and more controlled than he had intended—because this required control, far more than he cared to admit. Five years of distance, and now, less than a meter apart.

"Your shirt—"

"It's not a problem. It's my fault too, I wasn't looking—"

Rui extended his hand. It wasn't just an apology—it was an introduction.

The first step he had planned for so long was now happening with imperfect timing in an office lobby, against the backdrop of a coffee stain.

Not according to plan. But what went according to plan wasn't always the most effective. He preferred it this way.

"Rui."

"Antonella." A handshake that was brief, precise—Rui let go sooner than he wanted to, because there were things that must not be revealed too quickly.

"Forgive me, it's my first day here."

"I know." One corner of his mouth twitched—not quite a smile, but an acknowledgment. "Welcome to the thirteenth floor."

He turned and walked toward Lucas before her expression could convey anything else.

Three steps.

Enough to make him realize that the scent he had just caught—faint, subtle, like old paper and something warm, comforting—was the first thing that made him certain this was no mistake in identity.

He had smelled that exact same aroma in the university library, that night, amidst the scent of old books in a secluded aisle. The girl had been standing in the corridor with a pink pen between her fingers, tracing the spines of the books carefully, like someone unaccustomed to being treated gently.

Five years ago. Thirty-two minutes of observation.

And one name he read three times under the dim light of the bulletin board before deciding: This was not a coincidence he should wait for. This was a decision he had to make. And he had made it.

✦

"Do you know her?"

Lucas asked in a tone Rui knew by heart—the tone of someone who had just witnessed something unusual and was deciding just how much to indulge his own curiosity.

Rui shrugged in response. The same technique he had used ten minutes ago, meaning a different thing, yet equally effective. Providing absolutely no definitive answer.

"Or..." Lucas paused for a moment, his tone shifting into something more amused. "Are you interested in that new hire?"

Rui stopped walking.

One second. No more.

Then he resumed his pace as though nothing had disrupted him in the slightest.

Lucas had misread the meaning—as usual, just like everyone else. Just the way Rui intended. Lucas would conclude that Rui might be mildly intrigued, that this was entirely normal, that there was nothing to question further. That was enough.

A correct conclusion drawn from the wrong information.

✦

The meeting lasted for forty-two minutes.

Rui answered three questions, validated two sets of data, and corrected an erroneous assumption from the Finance division without a single shift in his tone. He did all of this with his mind split in two: half for the meeting, while the other half was already busy calculating.

The handshake earlier lasted exactly three seconds.

The temperature of her hand was colder than he had imagined—but her grip was brief and precise, no hesitation, no excess. The way her eyes scanned the situation before reacting was exactly what he had observed from a safe distance in that library aisle five years ago, but far clearer up close. Increasingly interesting.

A few things were confirmed. A few things required additional data and further observation.

The meeting concluded. People stood up, gathered their documents, and moved toward the door. Rui was in no rush.

He waited until the room was nearly empty before standing—an old habit, always being the last to leave so he could watch everyone depart before he himself moved.

In the corridor outside the meeting room, he passed the project schedule board that had just been put up last week.

The team names were already listed there—including one name in the PMO Division column that he had personally added yesterday, after ensuring the assignment was approved without anyone questioning the reasoning.

According to plan.

Antonella Beatriz Sienne. Junior Project Manager. Project VELA.

Rui pulled a pencil from his suit pocket. He marked a small note on the margin of his report.

First variable: confirmed.

This was only the beginning. Not even three percent of what he had already set in motion.