The encounter between us
1075 Words
chapter 3
Zainab pov
chapter 3
Zainab_pov
The first time I saw him, I didn’t know why my hands started shaking.
I was standing by my desk, sorting through files I’d already organized twice, when the office went still. Not silent—just aware. Chairs straightened.
Conversations died mid-sentence. Even the air felt different, heavier, as if something important had entered the room.
“CEO here in this floor,” someone whispered.
I looked up.
He was taller than I expected. Dark suit, perfectly cut. No rush in his stride, no wasted movement. He didn’t scan the room the way most executives did. He claimed it with his presence alone.
My chest tightened.
There was nothing familiar about his face. Sharp lines. Controlled expression. Eyes the color of storm clouds—cold, assessing, unreadable.
And yet.
The moment his gaze brushed mine, something inside me pulled.
Not attraction. Not fear.
Recognition.
My breath hitched before I could stop it. A strange pressure bloomed behind my ribs, the same feeling I’d woken up with that morning—hollow and aching, like I’d lost something I couldn’t name.
He paused.
Just for a second.
Too short for anyone else to notice. Long enough for my skin to prickle, for my heart to stumble.
His eyes lingered on me, dark and intent, as if he were looking through my face instead of at it.
I broke eye contact first.
Get it together, Zainab.
“This must be the new hire,” my manager said brightly, gesturing toward me. “Zainab. She joined the team last month.”
I felt his attention return before I looked up again.
When I did, he was closer now, standing just across from me.
“Zainab,” he repeated.
The way he said my name sent a shiver down my spine.
“Yes, sir,” I said, hating the way my voice softened.
His expression didn’t change, but something flickered in his eyes—approval, maybe. Or curiosity. It made my stomach twist.
“You’re adjusting well?” he asked.
“Yes,” I answered automatically. Then hesitated.
“I think so.”
A corner of his mouth lifted. Not a smile.
Something quieter. More dangerous.
“Good,” he said. “You strike me as adaptable.”
The word settled into me like a weight.
As he turned away, moving on with the inspection, relief washed through me—thin and unsatisfying. I told myself the reaction had been nerves. Intimidation. Nothing more.
But as he walked past, the faintest scent brushed the air.
Woodsmoke. Night. Rain-soaked earth.
My pulse spiked.
I looked after him, heart racing, a thought pressing hard against my mind.
Why does it feel like I’ve met you somewhere I wasn’t supposed to survive?
The rest of the day blurred.
I tried to focus on my screen, on emails and deadlines and the steady rhythm of office life, but my body refused to cooperate. Every sound felt too sharp. Every pause too loud. I kept expecting to feel his gaze again, that invisible weight pressing between my shoulders.
It never came.
That should have been a relief.
Instead, the absence gnawed at me.
I made it to the break room around noon, hands wrapped tightly around a mug I hadn’t realized I’d poured. The coffee had gone cold by the time I noticed. Across from me, two coworkers whispered in low tones.
“He’s worse in person,” one murmured.
“Heartless,” the other agreed. “They say he fires people for hesitating.”
I swallowed.
Ruthless. Cold. Dangerous.
The words should have grounded me, reminded me that whatever I’d felt earlier was nothing more than nerves. And yet, as I stared into the dark surface of the coffee, another image pushed its way forward—moonlight filtering through trees, eyes burning green in the dark, a presence that had felt terrifying and familiar all at once.
Stop.
I shook my head, as if that might scatter the thought.
By late afternoon, my manager appeared at my desk, expression tight.
“Zainab,” she said. “The CEO wants to see you. Now.”
My stomach dropped.
I stood slowly, chair scraping against the floor louder than it should have. The walk to his office felt longer than it was, each step heavy with something I couldn’t name. By the time I reached the door, my palms were damp, my pulse uneven.
I knocked.
“Come in.”
His voice was calm. Controlled. The same voice that had said my name earlier, smooth and deliberate.
I stepped inside.
The office was immaculate—glass, steel, order.
He stood by the window again, back to me, the city stretched out beneath him like a conquest.
For a moment, he didn’t turn around.
“You looked unsettled this morning,” he said.
The words hit harder than they should have.
“I—no, sir,” I replied, too quickly. “Just adjusting.”
He turned then, slowly, and our eyes met.
The feeling slammed into me all over again.
That pull. That recognition. Stronger now, sharper, like my body was protesting the lie before my mouth could finish shaping it.
“Adjusting,” he repeated, studying me. “To change?”
“Yes,” I said. Then, quieter, “To new environments.”
Something dark flickered across his face—gone almost instantly.
“Some environments,” he said, “leave marks.”
My breath caught.
“I believe you’re capable,” he continued, voice even. “But capability comes with awareness. Pay attention to what unsettles you, Zainab. It usually matters.”
I nodded, though my thoughts were spiraling.
Why did it feel like a warning?
“Good,” he said. “That’s all.”
Dismissed.
I turned to leave, hand on the door, heart pounding with questions I didn’t dare ask. As I stepped out into the corridor, his voice followed me—low, precise.
“Sleep well tonight.”
The words sent a chill down my spine.
I didn’t look back.
But as I walked away, one certainty settled deep and unshakable in my chest:
Whatever had found me in the forest had not left me there.
It had followed me home.
And is what bothers me the most, what is this new feeling I have in me whenever I see the wolf and my boss.
I can't have this feeling for two people right
- Writer
