Meant To Miss, Destined To Meet

Chapter 13

Jack’s POV

There are a few things I’ve mastered in life.

One: writing a killer pitch under pressure.

Two: keeping a poker face when investors get annoying.

Three: not texting a woman who hasn’t texted back.

But watching Gina walk into a room without acknowledging me—because she doesn’t know I’m part of the room—that was something else entirely.

It’s Monday. The start of BrightEdge’s onboarding week.

I came in early for once. My usual 9:15 turned into 8:30. I wasn’t even sure why I did it. Maybe because I knew today wasn’t like any other Monday. Maybe because today, she’d be here.

My heart did that thing it only does when I’m not pretending to be in control—beating hard, fast, and annoyingly loud.

“Waiting for someone?” Quan said as he walked in and caught me staring at the elevator screen like it might cough up answers.

I didn’t reply. I didn’t need to.

At 9:02 a.m., I saw her.

Hair pulled back into a clean twist. A soft blush blouse tucked into tailored pants. Minimal makeup. No smile.

Just focus.

And maybe—if I’m reading her right—a touch of fear behind her steady eyes.

She looked like someone trying hard to hold herself together. Someone determined to prove she belonged in the building.

And God, she did.

She walked in behind the orientation coordinator, completely unaware of me watching from the glass-walled meeting room just above the lobby.

If she’d just turned her head slightly, she would’ve seen me.

But she didn’t.

And I didn’t move.

Because for now, it wasn’t my place.

I watched her disappear around the corner, toward the open-plan office space where new hires met their departments. Her name would be called in the team briefing. She’d be introduced. She’d get her desk, her badge, her access codes.

She’d begin.

And I would remain the question mark she hadn’t gotten around to answering yet.

The meeting I had scheduled was with Rebecca, BrightEdge’s marketing director. She and I had worked together for over a year now, building campaigns, refining brand tones, expanding outreach strategies.

We were supposed to finalize the Q3 digital campaign roadmap today.

Instead, the first thing out of her mouth was:

“So… Gina.”

I looked up from my tablet. “Yeah?”

“You knew she applied?”

I shook my head. “Not until after the interview.”

Rebecca gave me a look. Not suspicious. Just curious. “You okay with this?”

“Of course,” I said quickly. “She’s qualified. She impressed you.”

“She did,” Rebecca agreed. “But more than that—she’s hungry. Not for attention. Not for titles. For purpose. That’s rare.”

I felt something shift in my chest.

She didn’t just walk in with a good resume. She walked in with a story. And even if no one else in the room knew it… I did.

All of it.

Or at least, the parts she let me see.

After our meeting, I lingered in the hallway outside the BrightEdge bullpen, a floor above Gina’s new workspace. I told myself I was just stretching my legs. Just grabbing a coffee.

Lying to yourself is easier when your heart’s busy doing backflips.

I stood near the railing and looked down.

There she was.

Her back was to me. She was talking to a teammate, nodding politely, clutching a stylus and notepad like they were the only lifelines she had.

Someone cracked a joke. She smiled.

Not the forced kind. Not the one she gave me to brush off discomfort.

A real one.

It was small. Short-lived.

But it was there.

I watched her for another minute, and I could feel something inside me uncoil.

She was okay.

Maybe not completely. But okay enough to try again.

And that’s all I ever wanted for her—even before I knew her name.

“Still stalking from the balcony, huh?” Quan said behind me, suddenly appearing with a second cup of coffee.

“Jesus—can you stop sneaking up on me?”

Quan smirked and leaned over the rail. “You’re not gonna talk to her?”

“Not yet.”

“Why?”

“Because she doesn’t owe me anything, and she deserves to find her footing here without me making it weird.”

Quan handed me the second cup. “You’re a better man than I thought.”

“I’m a patient man,” I corrected.

He laughed. “Yeah, well. When you finally do talk to her, don’t screw it up.”

“Working on it.”

I left a few minutes later, walking away before she could catch me watching.

Let her build her new life.

Let her meet people.

Let her be the version of herself she’s fighting to become.

When she’s ready…

I’ll still be here.

And maybe then, she’ll look up—and see that I never really left.