Episode three
1342 Words
The rest of the week had been eerily smooth—probably the smoothest Mia had experienced in months.
No early-morning calls demanding she fetch coffee from a café twenty blocks away. No sudden assignments that had her canceling weekend plans. No impossible requests to track down a document that Raymond himself had lost.
Nothing.
Mia should have felt relieved. She should have been celebrating the peace. But instead, an unsettling feeling sat in the pit of her stomach, growing heavier with each silent day.
By the time Friday rolled around, she couldn’t take it anymore.
She stepped into Raymond’s office, a tray in her hands. “Your breakfast, sir.”
Raymond barely glanced up from his papers. “Thanks.” His tone was neutral, his expression unreadable.
Mia hesitated. That was it? No complaints about the toast not being golden brown enough? No demand for an extra side of fruit?
She placed the tray on his desk and shifted awkwardly. “Sir… is there a problem?”
Raymond’s fingers froze mid-turn on a page, just for a second. Then, as if catching himself, he continued flipping through the document. “No, not at all.”
That was a lie. Mia could tell.
She licked her lips. “Am I getting fired?”
Raymond’s brows lifted, his pen stopping completely. “What?”
A sudden chill ran down Mia’s spine. Maybe she had jinxed herself. Maybe all those times she had cursed this job were coming back to haunt her.
She panicked. “I’m sorry for everything I’ve ever done. I’ll work twice as hard. I’ll be in the office by 7 a.m. I’ll travel across the world if I have to—just to find the best bacon and toast. I’ll even—”
“Mia.”
She shut her mouth.
Raymond pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling. “I’m not firing you.”
Mia blinked. “Really?”
Not that she loved the job, but it was her only source of income. Finding a new one would take months, endless applications, and an empty bank account. The thought alone made her break into a sweat.
Raymond shot her a questioning look. “Unless you want me to fire you?”
“No! Please don’t.” She forced a laugh, trying to mask her nerves.
“Good.” He gestured vaguely at the papers in front of him. “I need to focus. These documents are important.”
“Of course,” Mia said, taking a step back toward the door. “I’ll be in my office if you need me.”
Raymond didn’t respond, already absorbed in his work.
As she left his office and shut the door behind her, she let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding.
“That was too close,” she muttered, shaking her head as she walked back to her desk. “I really thought I was about to go broke.”
Weekend Café Talks
“Hey—hey! Earth to Mia!”
Mia blinked, snapping out of her thoughts. Across the small café table, Chloe waved a hand in front of her face.
“Yeah?” Mia asked, still a little dazed.
Chloe gave her a suspicious look. “Are you okay? I’ve been telling you about this whole supermarket drama between the security guard and a crazy woman, and you clearly weren’t listening.”
Mia winced. “I was listening.”
Chloe leaned back in her chair, arms crossed. “No, you weren’t.”
Mia sighed, rubbing her temples.
Chloe narrowed her eyes. “Wait… don’t tell me you’re still thinking about Crooked Nose?”
Mia let out a short laugh. “No, I’m not.”
“Then what’s up?” Chloe leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. “Did your boss make you work on a Sunday again? Because if he did, I swear—”
“No, he didn’t,” Mia said quickly. She didn’t need Chloe going on another anti-Raymond rant in the middle of the café.
Chloe squinted. “Then spill.”
Mia hesitated, then sighed. “He’s been acting weird lately.”
“Who?”
“My boss.”
“Ohh.” Chloe propped her chin on her hand. “Weird how?”
“That’s the thing—I don’t even know. He’s just… quiet.”
Chloe raised a brow. “And that’s a bad thing?”
“It’s been a week, Chloe. A whole week and not a single ridiculous demand. No sudden calls. No unreasonable requests. It’s like he’s… a different person.”
Chloe chewed on her bottom lip, considering. “Well, isn’t that what you’ve been praying for? For him to stop being an overbearing workaholic?”
Mia nodded slowly. “Yeah… but it feels off.”
Chloe shrugged. “Maybe he’s just tired. Or maybe he finally realized he doesn’t need to treat his assistant like a 24/7 service hotline.”
Mia hummed in response, but the unease still clung to her.
“Anyway,” Chloe stretched, reaching for her cake. “You should forget about work for now. It’s the weekend. Take the win while you can.”
“I guess,” Mia murmured.
Her fingers absentmindedly brushed against her bag. She hesitated, then unzipped it and reached inside.
There it was.
The red thread.
She had shoved it into her bag days ago, taking it wherever she went , letting it become a part of her.
She pulled it out, holding the thin strand between her fingers.
Chloe squinted. “What’s that?”
Mia sighed dramatically. “This… is a ten-dollar scam.”
Chloe snorted. “Okay, now you have to explain.”
Mia spun the thread between her fingers. “Remember that carnival last week? I stopped by a fortune teller’s tent.”
Chloe’s eyes widened. “You did what?”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. Don’t judge me. I just thought it would be fun.” Mia slumped back in her chair. “She told me my ‘destined person’ is out there and that my fate is tied to him—literally.”
Chloe covered her mouth, trying not to laugh. “You paid for that?”
“Ten dollars.” Mia groaned, tossing the thread onto the table.
Chloe picked it up, inspecting it like it held some great secrets. “And this is supposed to… what? Magically connect you to him?”
“Apparently.” Mia shook her head. “I don’t even know why I kept it.”
Chloe grinned. “Maybe deep down, you do believe in it.”
Mia scoffed, grabbing the thread back and shoving it into her bag. “Please. If fate was real, it wouldn’t have screwed me over three times this year alone.”
“Fair point.” Chloe stabbed her fork into her cake. “Still, you should keep it. Who knows? Maybe one day, it will lead you to someone.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Mia muttered.
She wasn’t holding her breath.
But later that night, as she emptied her bag and found the thread once again, she hesitated.
After a moment, she opened her drawer and placed the red thread inside.
“Maybe one day, I might actually find my ‘destined person,’” she murmured sarcastically before shutting the drawer.
It was meant to be a joke.
But for some reason, the thought lingered.
And across the city, in an office where the lights were still on despite the late hour, Raymond sat at his desk,his jaw tight, fingers gripping a document too hard. His eyes locked onto a faint drawing on the paper in front of him.
His breath was slow. Calculated but beneath that controlled exterior, something sharp and uneasy settled in his chest.
He stared down at the paper for a long time.
Then in a voice barely above a whisper, he asked. "Why does she have it?" "How did she get it?
But he brushed it off, shaking his head.
It was nothing, just a coincidence.
Right?
- Writer
