From his secretary to his regret

Adriana had never thought about gardening. That was before her boyfriend Lucas broke up with her. It happened four months ago and it was a very big shock. They had been together for five years and everything had been fine between them but, she got a text message from Lucas saying he was leaving her. He had gone to Thailand for summer vacation and entangled himself with a breathtakingly beautiful girl, whose beauty could defeat even the best pageant Adriana was devastated by the breakup. She didn’t go to work, She didn’t go to the gym , hangout with her friends. In fact she didn’t eat for 2 days straight at some point. Her mom and sister were worried about her. Adrianna had always been very cheerful and lively so seeing her so gloomy and down was a difficult sight for her sister and her mother. Her mom invited a therapist cause she was deeply concerned . “Adriana for the sake of your mental health please try things like meditation, writing in a book, listening to music or maybe even gardening”. The therapist said in a concerned tone. “I don’t know…..all this stuff just feels weird to me, I don’t know if I could follow through with it and…. I still miss him if I’m being honest with you”. She said sadly as she lowered her eyes. The Therapist replied “it could help you get over your breakup with Lucas. Plus, you can’t keep on living like this. You just have to move on.” “Ok I’ll try it out” Adrianna said in a reluctant, but hopeful way. “Glad to hear that, I hope to see you in a better condition next time” the therapist relied her cheerfully. Eventually Adriana decided to try out gardening. She started off with one flower and then a potted one and before you knew it, she had a small flower garden. Her sister Elena started nicknamed her miss green thumb. And through gardening, she was able to get back into rings she used to do before the breakup. Adrianna worked in a restaurant as an accountant where she managed their income and expenses and watched out for any sign of fraud. One evening Adriana’s manager Derek, saw her still working at her desk past closing hours . “Stressful as usual isn’t it” said Derek with a slight smirk on his face while he observed her work. “Yeah it is” she replied still focused on her work not looking up from the laptop. “I hope you know it’s past closing time” “ohh thank goodness, I totally forgot, well see ya tomorrow”. Adriana gathered her things and left the restaurant. She approached her car at the parking lot , got in and turned on the ignition. As she was driving out of the parking lot a man came speeding out of nowhere and crashed into her car. The impact was heavy and the back of her car was badly crumpled.The stranger’s car was also damaged. Luckily, Adrianna didn’t wasn’t harmed in any way. But she was furious, her blood boiling and her. She rushed out of her car and the second she stepped out of her car, she started screaming violently at the stranger The stranger climbed out of his car like nothing happened. Early thirties. Clean shirt. The kind of man who moved through the world like it owed him something and had never once been told otherwise. She had barely pulled herself together from the impact — her neck still felt the whiplash, her heart was still somewhere up in her throat — and this man, this man, was standing by his door adjusting his sleeves.She got out. “What is wrong with you?” Her voice came out louder than she planned. Good. He turned. Looked at her the way men looked at women they had already decided not to take seriously. “Excuse me?” “You did not even see me coming.” She walked toward him, each step deliberate. “You just — you came out of nowhere. Do you know how to drive?” “Ma’am, I need you to calm down.” Calm down. Something hot moved through her chest. She took one more step forward. “What kind of sick person drives like that? Do you think you are above the law?” The stranger sighed. Actually sighed — the kind of sigh that said not this again. He looked at the front of his car, then at hers, then back at her. “Your car hit mine. You’re going to need to apologize and pay for the damage.” Adriana stared at him. She almost laughed. She almost actually laughed. “I hit your car.” She let that sit in the air between them. “You hit my car. My car. And now you are standing here like you did nothing wrong — not even a sorry, not even a sorry — telling me to pay you?” “I’m telling you what happened.” “Say sorry.” “I’m going to need your insurance details.” “Say. Sorry.” He looked past her. “I don’t have time for this. I’m leaving.” He moved toward his car door. Her hand shot out and grabbed his arm. He stopped. They both did. The whole street seemed to pause — cars somewhere in the distance, someone’s radio playing faintly, the late afternoon sun sitting low and orange over the rooftops. For just a second the whole world held still and looked at the two of them. “You are not going anywhere,” Adriana said, “until you fix my car.” The stranger looked down at her hand on his arm. Then up at her face. Something shifted in his expression — the mild irritation sharpening into something less polite. “Let go.” “No.” “I’m serious.” His voice dropped. “Move aside, or I will do something you will not like.” Adriana stepped closer. Not back. Closer. “Go ahead,” she said. “I want to see what you will do.” Something flickered across his face. Surprise. Like he hadn’t expected that. Like women were supposed to flinch. “Get out of my way.” She didn’t move. He pushed her — not hard, just enough to break her grip — and lunged for his door handle. Adriana grabbed the door before he could get it open. They pulled against each other, the metal hot under her palm, both of them breathing hard. Then her foot slipped. She went down fast, her shoulder hitt the ground first, and she grabbed the only thing close enough — his shirt. She heard the fabric tear before she felt herself land. She sat there on the ground for a moment with her elbow stinging and her pride stung worse. The stranger stood above her, looking down at his shirt. A clean, neat tear right across the front. He touched the edge of it like he still couldn’t believe it. Then he started laughing. Not a mean laugh. Not a mocking one. It was — surprised. Genuine, almost. He pressed his hand over the tear and laughed until he had to shake his head. He crouched down. Not to help her up. Just to be level with her. Eye to eye. “I like your spirit,” he said. There was something different in his voice now. Quieter. Almost amused. “It’s going to cost you though. You’re paying for this shirt.” Adriana looked at him. That was when she noticed it — the watch on his wrist. Right there, inches from her face. Even in her current state, lying on the ground outside her dented car, she knew what she was looking at. That was not the kind of watch you bought on a salary. That was the kind of watch that came with a history. The stranger stood up, straightened what was left of his shirt. Got in his car and left. Adriana stayed on the ground for a moment longer than she needed to. The street smelled like hot asphalt and exhaust. Somewhere a bird was making noise. She was angry. Still fully, completely angry. But underneath it — quiet and stubborn, like an ember — she felt something else. A small, private satisfaction she hadn’t earned anywhere except right here on this concrete. She had stood her ground. She had not backed down. She had gone after a man twice her size and made him laugh — not at her, but at what she was. She got up. Brushed off her clothes. Drove home. Her mother saw her face before she even got through the gate. “How was your — Adriana, what happened to you?” Her sister appeared from somewhere behind her. Both of them crowding the doorway, heads tilting the same way they always did when they were worried. “I’m fine.” Adriana dropped her bag. “Some man hit my car.” “What?” “He came out of a junction. Didn’t look. Just drove straight into me.” She pulled out a chair and sat down. Her elbow still hurt. “And then he had the nerve — the actual nerve — to stand there and tell me I owed him an apology.” Her mother’s hand went to her chest. Her sister’s eyes went wide. “Did he leave? Did you call anyone?” Adriana looked at her hands. Thought about the watch. The laugh. The torn shirt. “He left,” she said. But somehow she didn’t think that was the end of it. Adriana almost walked past it. That was the thing she would think about later. She had been distracted — coffee in one hand, her bag slipping off her shoulder, mentally already inside and at her desk — and she almost didn’t see it at all. But something made her slow down. Maybe it was the quiet. The entrance to the restaurant was never quiet at this hour. There was always noise — the clatter of the kitchen warming up, Maria arguing with the delivery man about the fish order, the smell of stock already on the stove drifting out through the side vent. There was always something. This morning there was nothing. Adriana stopped. The door was shut. Not the careful, deliberate shut of someone who had locked up and gone home. Shut like it had been closed and simply — left. Like whatever had been happening inside had stopped mid-sentence and never started again. She stepped closer. There was a sign on the door. White paper. Black ink. Two words. CLOSED. Not We will return at— Not Apologies for the inconvenience— Not a phone number, not a date, not an explanation. Just the one word, sitting there in the centre of the paper like it didn’t owe her anything else. Adriana stood there and read it three more times. Then she read it again. Her coffee had gone lukewarm in her hand. She didn’t notice. She was looking at the sign the way you looked at something when your brain had received information but was simply refusing — flat out refusing — to process it. Like if she looked long enough the letters might rearrange themselves into something that made more sense. Closed for renovations. Back Monday. Closed early today. Come in through the side. Anything. Anything else. “It’s closed.” She spun around. Derek was standing behind her. She hadn’t heard him approach. He had his jacket folded over one arm and his bag hanging from one shoulder, and he was looking at the sign the same way she had been — except his face didn’t have confusion on it. It had something quieter. Something that looked almost like he had been expecting this, and the only thing that surprised him was how it felt to actually see it. “Derek.” Her voice came out smaller than she wanted. “What is going on?” He looked at her. Then back at the door. “The owner shut it down,” he said. “What owner?” Adriana shook her head. “What are you — Derek, this is a government building. The restaurant is a government-run —” “No.” He said it gently. Firmly. The way you corrected someone when you needed them to understand something quickly and there wasn’t time to soften it. “It’s not.” Adriana went still. “What?” Derek shifted the jacket on his arm. Looked up the street for a moment like he was checking something, or like he was buying himself one more second before saying it out loud. Then he looked back at her. “He’s owned this building for years, Adriana. Long before any of us started working here.” He paused. “When a man like him makes a decision — it doesn’t go through channels. It doesn’t get announced. It doesn’t get debated in a boardroom somewhere.” He glanced at the sign. “It just happens.”