Familiar Strangers

Office Delivery

After the unsettling shift in my mood the day before, I started a new day determined to feel better. Since I had nothing pressing to do lately, I figured I might as well resume exercising. So instead of using the gym, I went for a morning run.

I came back, made breakfast, and had just finished setting the table when Antonio came downstairs. I didn’t know why it stood out to me, but ever since we started having breakfast together, his timing had been uncanny. If it wasn’t 7:30, it was 7:29. If he was late at all, then maybe 7:35. Typical business mogul behavior—precise to the minute.

“Good morning. How are you feeling?” I asked as he took his seat.

“Okay,” he replied.

As we ate, I noticed something else was different.

“Marcel isn’t coming to pick you up today?”

“He has errands to run for me.”

Breakfast ended quickly. He left, and I cleaned up before getting ready to visit Grandpa.

Driving out, I rolled down the roof of the convertible and plugged in my earpods, trying to loosen up a little. The aftereffects of that so-called nightmare still lingered. At a stop sign, I spotted a flower shop across the road and decided to get some for the old man.

At the Johnsons’ mansion, I stepped out of the car with the flowers in hand and walked into the living room. Grandpa was on a call. When he saw me, his face lit up instantly. He motioned for me to come closer, and I leaned in, pecked his cheeks, then handed him the flowers which made him smile even wide.

When he ended the call, he walked over and pulled me into a hug.

“My favorite granddaughter-in-law.”

“Grandpa, I’m your only granddaughter-in-law,” I smiled.

Then the thought slipped in—for now. If Antonio and I ever divorced, there’d be another one someday. I'll still be the favourite he has had even then.

He laughed. “True. So, what brings you here?” His eyes sparkled. “Are you here to tell me some good news?”

“What good news?” I asked, genuinely confused.

Instead of answering, his gaze dropped briefly to my stomach, then back to my face.

Oh.

Oh no.

“Grandpa…” I groaned. “Are you already tired of me and looking for a great-grandchild to replace me? Ouch. I’m hurt.” I pouted dramatically.

He burst out laughing, the sound filling the room.

Up until lunchtime, we spent the hours swapping stories—well, more like Grandpa exposing Antonio. He told me all sorts of tales while we flipped through old photo albums, and of course I quietly took pictures of some of them.

You know… just in case, in my very imaginative future, I decide to be a slightly vengeful ex and “accidentally” post a few unfavorable pictures online.

Not that Antonio had any truly bad photos. His childhood ones were either annoyingly cute or from that phase where the cold, unreadable stare started forming. Still, it would definitely get under his skin—especially since there isn’t a single picture of him anywhere online. Ha ha ha...I can already imagine the look on his face but like I said,in my little imagination.

But, jokes aside, I honestly hope we end things on good terms. Antonio isn’t terrible—he’s just… under-exposed. Like expensive wine that’s been locked in a vault too long.

I offered to make lunch for Grandpa, and he casually told me to cook extra for a third person. I didn’t bother asking who; I figured he had a guest coming. Imagine my shock when I finished dishing the food and he smiled—that smile—and said I should eat with Antonio.

Meaning: I was to deliver lunch to Antonio’s office.

This man never misses a chance.

I tried to protest, told him I already had plans, but he countered by handing me a document. Apparently, it was “important” and “confidential” and couldn’t be trusted with just anybody. Please. Even he didn’t sound convinced.

Still, I figured I might as well take the opportunity to explore the Johnson Group headquarters. Two birds, one stone, not like I have anything important doing.

I didn’t even bother calling Antonio. Instead, I dialed Marcel’s number. After a few rings, he picked up.

“Hello, Marcel. I’m on my way to the office with lunch. Please help me inform your boss,” I said, then ended the call after he said "okay".

Minutes later, I pulled up in front of the Johnson Group building and stepped out of the car. The structure loomed above me—towering glass and steel, intimidating and unapologetic. I paused, taking it in. Yeah… Antonio absolutely deserved to be the top dog. This building alone screamed power.

Lunch in hand, I walked inside.

The air-conditioning hit first, then the silence, polished and expensive. I approached the reception desk.

“Good afternoon. I’m here to see Antonio,” I said calmly.

The receptionist looked up—and then looked me over. Slowly. From my face down to where my toes would have been visible if the counter hadn’t been in the way. One by one, the other two receptionists turned their heads to stare, curiosity sharp in their eyes.

Ah.

So this was that kind of place.

Today, I was dressed purely for comfort—an oversized sweatsuit, soft and loose, my hair falling freely over my shoulders and down my back and a face cap on my head. I couldn’t be bothered to do more. There was no need to try anyway. Even like this, I looked good. Rare beauty privilege.

The looks on their faces were demeaning, like I’d suddenly become invisible—or worse, beneath their notice. One of them finally spoke up.

“Do you have an appointment?”

“No, I don’t,” I replied as calmly as I could. “I just came to drop something for Antonio. Could you call his office or Marcel’s?”

“Antonio?” The first one scoffed. “You must think you’re special or something. We see plenty like you trying to climb into Mr. Johnson’s bed. Where’s what you want to give him? I’ll send it for you.”

Her tone made my blood simmer, but I forced it down. “It’s confidential,” I said, taking a deep breath, pulling out my phone, and dialing Marcel’s number. Unsurprisingly, no answer. Just great.