THE CONDITION!
1498 Words
ANASTASIA MOORE
It had been another long and frustrating day of job hunting.
By the time Anastasia returned to her apartment, her legs ached terribly, and exhaustion sat heavily on her shoulders. She dropped her handbag weakly on the small couch before kicking off her flats near the door.
Nothing.
Again.
Another entire day wasted walking from one company to another only to hear the same polite rejection.
"We will get back to you."
The biggest lie employers loved telling desperate people.
Anastasia let out a tired sigh as she went straight to her bedroom and changed into something more comfortable, then dragged herself toward the tiny kitchen corner of her apartment. Even the silence around her felt depressing now.
Her savings were reducing faster than she expected.
Rent was approaching.
Bills were waiting.
Her mother still expected financial support.
And somehow, California suddenly felt far more expensive than it ever had before.
She opened the small refrigerator and stared blankly inside.
Almost empty.
A bitter laugh escaped her lips.
"At this rate," she muttered to herself, "I will soon pack my things and head back to Texas like some defeated village girl."
The thought alone bruised her pride badly.
She grabbed a bottle of water before leaning tiredly against the kitchen counter.
"Even getting a salesgirl position at a shopping mall has become difficult," she murmured.
For the first time in years, Anastasia genuinely felt scared about her future.
Her fingers tightened slightly around the bottle.
She had always believed hard work eventually paid off.
Now she was no longer sure.
Her phone suddenly began ringing loudly from the couch.
Anastasia turned immediately before reaching for it.
The moment she saw Felicia's name on the screen, some of the tension inside her relaxed slightly.
At least she was not completely alone.
Felicia had called every single day since she lost her job. Sometimes, to encourage her. Sometimes, simply to make sure Anastasia had not locked herself away crying again.
Honestly, without Felicia, this period would have been far more unbearable.
"Hello Felicia," Anastasia answered while walking slowly toward the window.
But the network immediately crackled badly.
"Hello? Felicia? I can not hear you properly."
Static answered her.
Anastasia frowned slightly.
"Can you hear me now?"
Nothing.
Then, the call disconnected entirely.
"Oh, come on," she muttered in annoyance.
Before she could call back, a knock suddenly sounded on the door.
Anastasia blinked.
Then, immediately rolled her eyes.
"Oh Felicia," she muttered to herself. "Why call me when you are already outside?"
Still holding the phone, she walked toward the door and pulled it open carelessly.
"Felicia, I can not believe you actually..."
The rest of the words died instantly in her throat.
Because the person standing outside was not Felicia.
It was Travis Wallace.
Anastasia froze completely.
To say she was shocked would have been an understatement.
Her former boss stood confidently outside her apartment wearing a perfectly tailored dark suit with one hand resting casually inside his pocket. Even in something as ordinary as standing still, the man somehow carried intimidating authority effortlessly.
His sharp grey eyes settled directly on her face.
"Ms Moore," he said calmly. "May I come in?"
Anastasia blinked once.
Then twice.
Her brain genuinely stopped functioning for a moment.
"Ah... no."
The answer escaped before she could stop herself.
Travis slowly raised one brow.
Honestly, if the situation were not so absurd, Anastasia might have laughed.
"Ms Moore," he said patiently, "I did not drive all the way here just to be rejected at the door."
Anastasia folded her arms slightly.
"Well, maybe if Mr Wallace learned how to speak more politely and humbly, people would welcome him better."
For a second, Travis simply stared at her.
Almost like nobody had ever spoken to him that way before.
Which honestly was probably true.
"Look," he began carefully, "I am not a man who begs."
"Clearly."
His jaw tightened slightly.
"But if I drove all the way here personally, then it means this conversation is important. So perhaps we should behave like adults and speak civilly."
Anastasia adjusted her glasses quietly while studying him carefully.
What exactly was Travis Wallace doing in her apartment?
Did she mistakenly leave with important office documents?
Or perhaps he came to officially threaten her for shouting at him in front of the entire office.
Honestly, nothing would surprise her anymore.
After a few seconds of hesitation, Anastasia finally stepped aside and opened the door wider silently.
Travis entered immediately.
And the second he stepped into her apartment, his eyes moved around the space carefully.
The apartment was tiny.
Painfully tiny.
Two small couches.
A tiny centre table.
No television.
No expensive decorations.
Nothing luxurious.
The place barely looked big enough for one person.
For the first time, Travis found himself wondering exactly how much his employees truly earned compared to the amount of work they did.
Because clearly, Anastasia was not living comfortably.
The sound of her clearing her throat pulled him from his thoughts.
Travis turned toward her.
And for a brief moment, his eyes paused.
Anastasia was dressed nothing like the overly professional secretary he remembered from the office.
No baggy skirts.
No oversized office blouses.
No tightly packed hair.
Instead, she wore a simple sleeveless vest and a short skirt that stopped above her knees.
Her auburn hair rested loosely across her shoulders now instead of being tightly pinned back.
And strangely enough...
She looked softer.
More feminine.
More beautiful.
The realisation caught him slightly off guard.
"Mr Wallace?"
Her voice interrupted his thoughts instantly.
He cleared his throat lightly.
"Yes?"
"Is there an office file missing?" she asked carefully. "Did I accidentally leave with something important?"
Travis looked momentarily confused before shaking his head.
"No file is missing."
"Then why exactly is my former boss standing inside my apartment?"
Her tone carried obvious suspicion.
Travis glanced briefly toward the couch.
"You did not ask me to sit down."
Anastasia stared at him for a second before gesturing awkwardly toward the couch.
"Sit then."
Travis sat down calmly while Anastasia remained standing.
Clearly, she did not trust him enough to relax.
Interesting.
"Without wasting time," Travis began directly, "I came here personally to offer you your job back."
Silence.
Complete silence.
Anastasia simply stared at him.
No reaction.
No excitement.
Nothing.
For a moment, Travis almost wondered whether she had heard him correctly.
"I said..."
"I heard you the first time, Mr Wallace."
She adjusted her glasses slowly as she sat on the opposite couch.
Travis frowned slightly.
"And?"
Another silence followed.
Then finally:
"Why?"
He blinked once.
"Why what?"
"Why are you giving me my job back?"
Her eyes remained fixed on him.
"After all, I was the disrespectful employee, remember? The incompetent secretary who embarrassed you in front of your workers."
Travis immediately sensed the sarcasm beneath her calm voice.
"Ms Moore," he said carefully, "working at Wallace Corporate Company is not an opportunity people reject casually."
"And yet you fired me casually."
That shut him up briefly.
Anastasia folded her arms tighter now.
"You made it very clear that I was replaceable."
Travis exhaled quietly.
Clearly, this conversation was not going the way he had imagined during the drive here.
"In four years," he said slowly, "I have never rehired anyone after termination."
"Then perhaps you should continue that tradition."
With that, Anastasia stood fully.
The silent dismissal was obvious.
"I was actually doing something before you arrived," she said politely. "You should probably leave now."
Travis stared at her in disbelief.
Was she seriously rejecting him?
Rejecting him?
He stood slowly while buttoning his suit jacket.
"Are you certain about this, Ms Moore?"
"Yes, Mr Wallace."
Her answer came too quickly.
Travis took slow, reluctant steps toward the exit.
But the moment his hand touched the doorknob, memories flooded his head instantly.
The wrong meetings.
The terrible emails.
The endless incompetent replacements.
The stress.
The headaches.
His pride suddenly no longer felt worth it.
He turned back around sharply.
"The truth is..." he began slowly, "I have hired more than seven secretaries since you left."
Anastasia looked genuinely surprised now.
"None of them were as competent as you."
Silence.
"You are professional, intelligent, and efficient, Ms Moore."
The compliment sounded almost painful, leaving his mouth.
"I am willing to double your salary if you return."
That finally stunned her completely.
Because never in her life had she imagined Travis Wallace would stand inside her apartment practically pleading for her return.
And honestly...
She needed the job desperately.
Her rent needed the job.
Her empty refrigerator needed the job.
Her family definitely needed the job.
Anastasia swallowed quietly before looking directly at him.
"I will return to work."
Relief immediately flickered through Travis's expression.
"But..."
His brows furrowed slightly.
"But what?"
Anastasia adjusted her glasses slowly.
"This time, I have one condition."
"Condition?"
"Yes, Mr Wallace. Condition"
For the first time since entering her apartment, Travis Wallace looked genuinely confused.
- Writer
