Episode five
917 Words
Her heart was beating at a rate it never had before.
The air between them thickened. Mia’s back was pressed against the cold wall, her breath coming in shallow, uneven beats. Raymond was close—too close—his presence consuming every inch of space around her.
Her fingers twitched at her sides, and she swallowed hard, willing her heart to calm down. But it wouldn’t. Not with the way he was looking at her.
His dark eyes weren’t their usual sharp, calculating selves. No, this was something else. Something deeper.
It was like he was searching for something within her. Something he wasn’t sure he’d find.
Mia licked her lips nervously. “Sir…?” Her voice barely came out, softer than she intended.
Raymond’s gaze flickered to her wrist.
He reached for it.
His fingers barely grazed her skin, but the touch sent a shiver down Mia’s spine.
She jerked back instinctively, hitting the wall behind her. “What—what are you doing?”
Raymond didn’t answer immediately. His jaw tightened, his brows furrowing slightly as if he was trying to piece something together. His fingers hovered over her wrist again, but this time, he hesitated.
Raymond’s fingers hovered just above her wrist, his breath shallow. He wasn’t touching her, but the air between them crackled with something neither of them could name.
His gaze roamed over her features as if searching for something—confirmation, familiarity.
Mia swallowed hard, but her voice, when she finally spoke again ,was steady. “Sir… what are you doing?”
Raymond blinked. A flicker of awareness returned to his eyes. His jaw tensed, his hands curling into fists before he abruptly straightened.
“Forget it,” he muttered, stepping back as if nothing had happened.
Mia exhaled sharply, her body still on high alert. “Forget it?” Her voice was a mix of disbelief and irritation.
“You just walked up to me like some kind of possessed man, stared at me like I had three heads, and now you’re telling me to forget it?”
Raymond’s eyes darkened. “Mia—”
“No, seriously.” She pushed off the wall, trying to regain her composure. Her hands were trembling, but she hid it well, folding her arms. “What the hell was that?”
Raymond turned away, his hands pressed flat against his desk as he let out a slow breath.
It wasn’t just the dream.
A memory surfaced—one he had tried to dismiss for a while.
The city carnival. Bright lights, laughter, the scent of roasted chestnuts in the air. He hadn’t gone to enjoy the festivities. He had gone searching.
A fortune teller’s tent tucked to the side , its entrance draped in red fabric. It was ridiculous, superstitious nonsense, but he had been desperate.
Desperate for answers about the dream.
The middle aged woman inside had regarded him carefully, her silver eyes glinting in the dim candlelight.
"You seek clarity about your dreams."
Raymond had barely nodded before she reached for a bundle of red thread beside her, twining it between her fingers as if weaving something unseen.
"You are sealed to a woman, bound by fate."
The words had sent a strange chill through him. He had almost walked out right then.
"Follow the red thread."
His throat had gone dry. “What does that mean?”
The woman had smiled—a knowing, almost pitying smile.
"She who holds the thread, holds your fate."
Raymond exhaled sharply, forcing himself back to the present.
The fortune teller’s words had been nonsense. That’s what he had told himself.
And yet—
His eyes flickered to Mia.
Mia, who stood before him, unwavering despite the confusion in her gaze. Mia, who wasn’t backing down, even as she rubbed at her wrist—the same wrist he had been staring at for far too long.
Coincidence. It had to be a coincidence.
Mia let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Nothing? Right.” She grabbed the paper bag she had placed on his desk, holding it up. “Well, since we’re pretending things didn’t just happen, here’s your breakfast, sir.”
He didn’t turn around.
Mia exhaled, her eyes narrowing. “You know, for a man who supposedly has everything under control, you sure don’t look like it.”
That got his attention. Raymond’s head snapped up, his expression unreadable, but there was a flicker of something else.
Mia smirked. “Maybe get some sleep next time before scaring your assistant first thing in the morning.”
She placed the bag back on his desk—forcefully enough to make a point—before turning on her heel.
Just as she reached the door, Raymond finally spoke. His voice was low, strained.
“Mia.”
She paused, gripping the doorknob but not turning it.
His gaze lingered on her for a moment longer, but then, just as quickly, he looked away. “Never mind. You can go.”
Mia clenched her jaw.
Fine. If he wanted to act like nothing had happened, so be it.
Without another word, she walked out, shutting the door behind her.
Raymond sank into his chair, running a hand down his face.
The woman’s voice echoed in his head once more.
"She who holds the thread, holds your fate."
And for the first time in years, he wasn’t sure if he was afraid of that truth—
Or if he had been waiting for it all along
- Writer
