Bound in ashes

Roses

Aria

The elevator doors slid open to a hush. I stared at my reflection on the mirrored surface, composed and expressionless, draped in black. A silhouette meant to cover what grief had engraved on me.

The cool air caressed my face, carrying the faint scent of paper and disinfectant. The corridor stretched long and wide, lined with glass offices and discussions.

“Isn't that Miss Navarro?

“ Has she not just lost her husband?

“How has she come to work already”? They said

Conversations stalled as I walked, heads swiveling in my direction before looking away.

The weight of their sympathy threatened to c***k my composure, but I kept my chin lifted.

In the lobby, the guards blocked a small ruckus caused by a cluster of junior lawyers trying to push past. Their suits ironed to a crisp, that nervous energy which reminded me of that version of myself that thought everything would work out as planned.

Nathan,” I said, my voice steady, “let them in.”

The guard hesitated, then stepped aside.

“Good morning, Miss Navarro,” Maria said, her tone soft, careful.

I gave her a curt nod. The group circled me in reverent silence. I could almost feel their curiosity pressing against the rim of their sympathy.

Maria stepped forward clutching a bouquet wrapped in cream-colored paper.

She cleared her throat. “We, um, the junior corporate team, wanted to say how sorry we truly are.” Her eyes darted towards others before she added, “And may the lord

“Don't,” I said.

It came out too fast, and I softened it with a breath. “Please just don't,” I said.

Her lashes fluttered, and the silence was long enough for vulnerability to surface in her eyes.

“Every color has its significance, Miss Navarro, know them,” Maria said.

“What?” I blinked, but she had already stepped back, swallowing any other words she had meant to say.

Somehow, her words made my stomach tighten.

“Thank you,” I managed. “That's really kind of you,” I said.

“It was our pleasure, Miss Navarro,” she said.

“Please go back to work.

They murmured awkward goodbyes and hurried back to their office.

My office door clicked shut behind me and the murmurs picked up the pace again.

The blinds were drawn halfway, slicing sunshine into thin golden slits across the room. The rug is soft and gray.

I placed the bouquet on my desk, the roses tilted slightly, brushing the edge of a stack of papers and a card slipped free. I opened the card and it read.

“Our condolences, dear Miss. Navarro

Yours faithfully

TJC.”

I stared at the weird combination of colors of the bouquet, Maria's words still lingering in my ears.

I was about to put the letter in the drawer when I saw a tiny imperfection, a part of the letter folded inwardly.

I tore it open with a pen knife and turned the letter inside out, and I saw a square-shaped code. Curiosity outweighs caution. I scanned it and it read

“The edges of objects are usually harder to see.”

And at the foot of the letter, there was a faint rose seal matching the pattern with the rose given to me by the junior team.

Frowning slightly, I tucked the paper in my bag. My Personal Assistant slipped in a polite smile, concern tucked behind professionalism.

“I made you some hot chocolate,” she murmured. “Extra cream is just the way you like it,” the warmth

The warmth seeped through my skin. “You didn't have to,” I said.

“Well I wanted to,” she said. Observing me closely “you look off… more than usual

I chuckled quietly. “That's comforting,” I said.

She winced.” Sorry that it came out wrong.”

It's fine,” I paused. “Thank you for the drink.”

That's fine,” she said, watching me. The silence stretched. “Would you like a hug?”

I opened my mouth but no sound left me. I opened my arms, and she walked in. I gripped the edge of her blouse, tears soaking the veil that had hidden me all morning.

“I’m good,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “Never been better.”

“You'll be fine,” she said, patting my back.” Also….. The CEO wants to meet with you,” she said.

“Me?”

She nodded. “He sent for you personally.”

“Okay, I'll be leaving now,” I said, straightening, smoothing the wrinkles from my dress. “Alright. Thank you.”

I knocked on the huge mahogany door with the name Moreno Reyes carved into it

“Come on,” his voice called.

The office was sleek and modern, with polished wood, leather chairs, and floor-to-ceiling windows offering a panoramic view of the city skyline.

“Good morning," I said, a lump forming in my throat. “You sent for me?” I asked.

“Yes, Miss. Navarro, how are you doing today?” he asked, gesturing to a seat.

“I'm fine, " I said, sitting down, being careful not to wrinkle my dress, not sure of the main reason why he had called me.

And awkward silence filled the room only the room only the rhythmic tick of the clock could be heard.

“I… um… I wanted to express my condolences. The loss was unexpected. How are you managing?” he asked.

I'm here, “I said, forcing a small shrug.” That counts for something.”

His gaze lingered a fraction too long, not inappropriate, just aware, a gaze that made a small fire form in the pit of my tummy.

As he was speaking, my eyes dropped to his lips watching them move, and then his voice hummed softly in my ears. I sank into the touch, sinking into his gaze.

“Will you be in attendance, Miss Navarro?” he said.

Sorry,” I jolted out of the trance I happened to be in.

The masked ball is coming up," he said.

“You want me to come” I hesitated.”

I do,” his tone softened. “It would be good for you to be seen again. Let people know you're still …here

Something in that phrase caught me off guard.

I nodded. “Alright, I'll come.”

“Excellent.” His eyes lingered on me again, curious but unreadable. “

That's settled then, my assistant will help you choose a dress. I’ll have your mask sent over.”

The corridor outside felt colder than before. The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly overhead.

Halfway to the elevator, the hum cut off, and my steps echoed and the lights flickered.

Then I felt someone was watching me.

Across the hall, near the coffee stand stood a man. The light didn’t touch his face fully, but his eyes, still gray, precisely caught the dim glow.

Eyes I’d recognize anywhere. The same eyes that looked at me the night my fiancé was killed.

The elevator chimed softly. I turned, heart hammering. When I looked back, the corridor was empty.