Tainted Roses

CHAPTER 4

SERENA

Saturday mornings are the only time the city feels like it belongs to itself. There are fewer cars fighting for space on the roads, fewer people rushing with somewhere they need to be, fewer voices competing for attention.

Just quiet; exactly what I need.

The music playing softly through my earpods fades into the background as I jog along the familiar path, my breathing settling into a steady rhythm. Running has always been easier than explaining. When I run, nobody asks questions or expects me to have answers.

I am just moving forward. The morning air is cool against my skin, and for once, my mind is not filled with deadlines, meetings. I think about nothing and somehow, that feels like everything. A year ago, I never imagined my life would look like this. I never imagined I would leave F.U.I. the way I did but here I am starting again.

And maybe that is what life is; not getting everything right the first time. Just finding the courage to keep going when things fall apart.

My phone vibrates in the pocket of my jacket. I slow down slightly when I see the name on the screen.

Dad.

And for a moment, I almost let it ring. Not because I do not want to speak to him but because sometimes, talking to my father reminds me of all the years we lost. The years when I needed him and he was not there.

I finally answer and try to be cool with him.

"Hello, Dad."

There is a brief pause before his familiar voice comes through.

"Serena."

I smile slightly.

"You sound surprised."

"I didn't know if you would answer."

I slow my pace, walking now instead of running.

"Why wouldn't I?"

But then there's another pause because we both know there are many reasons.

"I heard about what happened." He says changing the topic.

My expression changes.

"Someone told you?"

"It doesn't matter."

I sigh softly.

"Dad, ….."

"I just wanted to know if you were okay." He says cutting me off and the softness in his voice makes it difficult to stay guarded.

"I am okay."

"Are you?" He asks but I only look ahead, not replying even though the honest answer is sitting on the tip of my tongue.

No, not completely. But I do not say that. Instead I say,

"I'm getting there."

For a moment, neither of us says anything.

Then he says, "I should have called sooner. I'm sorry."

That makes me stop walking completely because the words surprise me. My father is not someone who apologizes easily.

"I know things have been difficult," he continues. "And I know I wasn't there for you the way I should have been."

I swallow.

"Dad..."

"No. Let me say it."

I close my eyes.

"I missed important parts of your life, Serena. I know that."

He does not need to explain. I know what he means. The years after he went to prison. When he kept his distance because he believed staying away was better than letting me see him as someone who failed me. The years where I grew up without him.

"I was angry for a long time," I admit quietly.

"I know."

"But I understood. And I still do dad."

Another silence. This one, very painful but necessary. And because I do not want the conversation to end there, I change the subject.

"I got a new job." I tell him.

His voice immediately changes.

"You did?" He asks and I smile.

"Yes."

"Where?"

"Sinclair Holdings."

He takes a very deep breath in and sighs real loud. Then he doesn't say anything but I notice.

"Sinclair Holdings?" He asks.

"Yes."

"Simon Sinclair's company?"

I frown slightly.

"Yes. Why?" I ask now, needing to know.

For a moment, I hear nothing but his breathing.

"No reason." He says but now I know he's hiding something.

I slow down. Because my father is many things but he is not someone who reacts without a reason.

"Are you sure?"

"Of course." He says and I stop questioning him even though I do not believe him.

I know pushing him will only make him close himself off.

"It's a good opportunity," I say.

"I hope it is."

The way he says it makes me look down, confused again.

"What does that mean?" I ask him.

"It means I hope they treat you well."

I relax slightly.

"They do."

"Good. That's good."

A small smile touches my lips and I realize how much I miss him.

"I have to go. I still have a few things to do today."

"Alright."

Then he says softly.

"Take care of yourself, Serena."

"You too, Dad."

We both hesitate before ending the call and bidding each other goodbye.

"Goodbye."

"Goodbye."

The call ends and I stand there for a moment, staring at my phone. There is something about his reaction that bothers me. Something I cannot explain but after a few seconds, I put the thought away. My father has always carried things he refuses to talk about and maybe this is just another one.

I put my phone back in my pocket and continue my walk.

Monday will come soon enough. And with it, another week at Sinclair Holdings. One that I greatly look forward to.

************************************

************

Monday arrives faster than I expect and by the time I step into Sinclair Holdings, I already have a list of things waiting for me.

Emails, schedules, reports, meetings. The usual. But unlike before, the sight of a busy day does not make me feel overwhelmed.

It feels familiar. Almost comforting.

"Morning, Serena." Someone greets.

I look up from my desk to see Claire walking past with a folder in her hand.

"Morning." I reply with a smile.

She pauses, seeming to think about something before she asks,

"Coffee?"

I glance at the cup beside my computer and smile.

"Already got one."

She looks impressed.

"You came prepared."

"Yeah, I learned quickly."

She laughs and I find myself joining her.

"That you did."

It is strange how easily small conversations like this have become normal. A few weeks ago, I walked through these doors wondering if everyone could see the uncertainty I carried with me. They all seem to have accepted me in their own way. At least the ones I know of.

I look through Simon's schedule for the day, making adjustments where necessary. His calendar is always full with meetings stacked on meetings and calls squeezed between appointments. Sometimes I wonder if he ever actually stops working.

I am still thinking about that when my office phone rings.

"Serena speaking."

"Mr. Sinclair's office." The voice on the other end replies. Claire pretty much just walked by now.

I immediately sit straighter.

"Yes?"

"He needs the revised documents for the eleven o'clock meeting."

"I'll have them ready."

I hang up and look at the papers in front of me.

"Of course he does." I say quietly to myself.

---

By eleven, the meeting room is filled with executives and department heads. People who have been with Sinclair Holdings longer than I have even known about the company.

I stand near the side of the room with the necessary documents, listening. At first, I remind myself that I am only there to assist but over time, I begin to notice things; patterns, questions people are not asking, problems hidden beneath carefully prepared presentations.

When one of the executives finishes explaining a proposal, Simon looks around the room before asking,

"What does everyone think?"

A few people give their opinions but he doesn't seem to focus on them because his eyes move toward me and stay there.

"Serena?"

For a second, I think I misunderstood or misheard him.

"Me?" I ask.

A small silence follows and everyone turns to stare at me.

"Yes."

I hesitate because this is still something I am getting used to. But I push aside my fear and give it my best shot.

"I think there is one thing worth considering." I start, looking around the room before continuing.

"The timeline looks realistic, but the client retention strategy might need more attention. If the first phase succeeds but the follow-up isn't strong, we could lose the long-term value of the partnership."

Nobody interrupts so I continue and when I finish, I look at Simon who I find watching me thoughtfully. Like he's thinking.

"That's a good point." He says, the words simple. But I notice the way the room reacts, not because he praised me but because they listened. The discussion continues, but I feel something has shifted a little.

---

It's late afternoon, and I find myself still thinking about it. Not the compliment but the opportunity. The fact that Simon did not hesitate to ask what I thought. It is a small thing but small things matter.

"You're smiling."

I look up.

Martin is standing by my desk. A colleague I've come to appreciate during these few weeks.

"Am I?"

"Yes." He confirms and I immediately look away.

"Maybe I'm just having a good day." I reply and he smiles knowingly.

"Good days are rare around here. Enjoy it."

I laugh softly.

"I plan to."

He walks away, and I return to my work.

For the rest of the afternoon, everything moves quickly. By the time most people begin leaving, I am still at my desk. I glance at the clock and see that it's later than I expected. So I gather my things, preparing to leave, when my office phone rings again.

Ugh.

I pick it up and try not to sound too tired. Who'll be calling at this time?

"Serena speaking."

"Are you still in the office?" The person asks and I recognize the voice immediately.

Simon.

"Yes, Mr Sinclair." There's a pause before he speaks again.

"Good. I need your help with something before tomorrow's meeting."

I glance at the time again. Most people would probably complain and I should probably complain but for some unknown reason, I don't.

"Of course, Mr Sinclair."

The call ends and I sit back for a moment. It's another late night and probably another long task. But I find myself smiling because for the first time in a long time, I am tired because I am building something and not because I am trying to survive.