LOVE IN CONTRACF

“Please, leave me alone. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” My voice came out quieter than I wanted, but I didn’t look away. My fingers were clenched so tight around my phone that my knuckles hurt. The streetlight flickered above us, throwing uneven shadows across the road. My street was usually calm at this hour with families locked indoors, the occasional car passing and the sound of television bleeding through open windows. Victor Benson stood a few steps away from me, hands in pockets, dressed too well for a random street confrontation. His shoes were spotless. His expression relaxed, almost bored, like this was an inconvenience rather than something deliberate. He was tall and broad, his dark eyes looked sharp, almost like they were measuring everything around him. His face was handsome enough to pass for an actor, there was something tense in his expression. Beside him was his sister. She carried an energy that was impossible to miss. Her mid-length dark hair framed a face that was as sharp, and her green eyes held a calculating glare. Her pointed shoes sounded like a warning, like the world must follow her lead. Victor laughed. It wasn’t a loud laugh. Just a short, amused sound, like he already knew how the conversation would end. I looked from him to the woman standing beside him. Helena didn’t laugh. She stood perfectly still, arms folded, her sharp eyes fixed on me like she was studying something she’d already decided she didn’t like. Her black dress looked expensive, the kind that didn’t need effort to intimidate. “You’re overreacting,” Victor said lightly. "No one is attacking you.” I tightened my grip around the strap of my bag. “Then why are you here?” I asked. “On my street.” Helena’s eyes narrowed just slightly. “You shouldn’t be asking questions like that,” she said. Her voice was calm, almost polite. “You should be listening.” I swallowed. “I don’t know what you think I did,” I said, choosing each word carefully, “but you’re mistaken.” Victor chuckled under his breath. “You journalists love saying that.” “I’m not doing anything wrong,” my heart was beating fast now, but I forced myself to stay still. “If this is about work, you should speak to my editor.” Helena stepped closer. Not touching me. Just close enough that I could smell her perfume. “You take pictures,” she said quietly. “You observe. You record things that don’t belong to you.” “I do my job,” I said. “That’s all.” Victor tilted his head, studying me like I was mildly interested. “ Funny thing about jobs,” he said. “They come with limits. Lines you don’t cross and since you’ve started it, you can as well, finish it.” “I haven’t crossed anything,” I said. Helena smiled then. It wasn’t warm. “You don’t get to decide that,” she said. A car drove past slowly, headlights sweeping over us for a brief second. I felt exposed, suddenly aware of how alone i was standing alone there. “I live here,” I said, my voice firmer now. “You can’t just show up and threaten me.” “No one threatened you, yet,” Victor replied. I inhaled sharply, “If you have a problem, deal with it properly and don’t involve me.” Helena’s gaze flicked briefly down the street, then back to me. “Think about it carefully.” Helena’s voice was smooth, almost reasonable, but nothing about that moment felt calm. “I already told you,” I said, keeping my voice steady, “I’m not interested.” “You’re interested,” she said. “You just don’t know it yet.” “You see,” she said softly, “This doesn’t have to be difficult. Work with us, nothing changes. Refuse…” She let the sentence hang. “I don’t know anything,” I said, more firmly this time. “And I won’t be part of whatever this is.” Victor opened the car door. “Think about it.” Helena held my gaze a moment longer. “We’ll talk again,” she said. “Soon.” They got into the car. The engine revved once, then the car rolled away disappearing down the street like they’d never been there. I stood frozen for several seconds. Only when the sound was gone did I realize my hands were shaking. Everything started on the day Nina called for a meeting. Not because the day felt special. It didn’t. It was one of the normal days that didn’t warn you before they changed your life. I didn’t know that yet. That morning, my phone alarm went off for the third time before I slapped it quiet. I lay there for a few seconds, staring at the ceiling, letting the sound of the city seep in through the half open window. Car. Voices. Someone was laughing too loudly down the street. Another normal day. I pushed myself up and swung my legs off the bed, my feet finding the cold floor. The room was small but familiar. My desk by the window, clothes folded on the chair because I’d been too tired to put them away the night before and my notebook sitting where I’d dropped it. I grabbed it out of habit, flipped through a few pages, then sighed and drooped it back. Downstairs, I could hear my mom moving around. Plates clinking. The low sound of the radio she always turned on in the mornings. Lily’s voice floated up the stairs, half asleep and complaining. “Mummy, why do I have to wake up so early every day?” “Because school doesn’t care if you’re tired,” my mom replied calmly. I smiled to myself and headed down. The kitchen smelled like fried eggs and coffee. Mom stood by the stove, apron tied loosely around her waist, her hair pulled back. Lily sat at the table, sketchbook open, pencil moving lazily across the page. “Morning,” I said. “Morning, Maya! Want some eggs?” she asked cheerfully. “I’ll have some, thanks.” Mom turned, “You’re awake early today.” “I didn’t sleep well,” I said, reaching for a mug. Something’s on my mind.” She poured coffee for me anyway. “Work again?” I nodded. Mom gave me a look. “You worry too much. Just do your best, and don’t let anyone stress you.” I took a sip of coffee, letting the warmth settle me. After breakfast, I went back upstairs to get ready. I pulled out a crisp white blouse and a pair of black slacks. Clean. Simple. My comfort zone. Then I went with a low heels to look professional. I wore my small silver studs and a thin bracelet, the one Lily had gotten me for my birthday lasts year. I paused in front of the mirror, brushing a strands of my hair behind my ear. “Okay,” I muttered to myself. “You got this. Just another day.” A message came from Nina, flashed on my screen: “Be ready. Big meeting today and no mistakes.” My stomach twisted. I had no idea what she had planned.