Old Friend
1255 Words
Elara stepped out of the hall slowly, as though her body needed a moment to catch up with everything that had just happened.
The applause still echoed faintly behind her, not loud anymore, but present, clinging to the air like a reminder she could not quite shake off. The large double doors closed softly behind her, muting the sound, but the energy of the building remained. It hummed. It moved. It breathed.
For the first time in weeks, the office felt alive.
People were everywhere.
Some walked briskly with purpose, folders tucked under their arms, voices low and focused. Others moved more cautiously, like guests re-entering a familiar place after a long absence, glancing around as if to reassure themselves that it was real, that the company truly was standing again.
As Elara made her way down the corridor, she felt eyes turn toward her.
At first, she pretended not to notice.
Then someone spoke.
“Good morning, ma,” a man said warmly, slowing his steps just enough to acknowledge her presence.
She turned toward him, her expression softening. “Good morning,” she replied, offering a small nod.
Another voice followed almost immediately.
“Thank you, ma,” a woman said, her tone thick with emotion. “It’s really good to be back.”
Elara paused this time, meeting the woman’s gaze. She could see it clearly now—the relief, the exhaustion, the gratitude that had nowhere else to go.
“It’s good to have you back too,” Elara said sincerely.
She continued walking, but she did not make it far before someone else stopped her. Then another. And another.
Some only greeted her briefly. Others lingered, their words tumbling out as though they had been holding them in for weeks. One man clasped his hands together as he spoke, thanking her repeatedly for fighting to keep everyone employed. Another smiled so broadly it made her chest ache, saying he could finally go home and tell his children everything would be fine.
Elara listened.
She did not rush them.
She nodded when appropriate, reassured when needed, and smiled even when her cheeks began to ache. She understood what this moment meant. Stability was not just about money. It was about dignity. About not having the ground pulled out from under you without warning.
At one point, two junior staff members approached her hurriedly, their arms full of loosely organized documents.
“Ma,” one of them said, slightly flustered, “we’re not sure where to submit these yet. Everything’s still a bit—”
“Scattered?” Elara finished gently.
They nodded.
She glanced at the files, then lifted her eyes back to them. “Take those to administration,” she said calmly. “They’re coordinating everything today.”
“Yes, ma,” they said together, visibly relieved, before hurrying off.
Elara resumed walking, her pace steady now.
Eventually, the corridor grew quieter. The crowd thinned. The noise softened into something manageable. And then she found herself standing in front of her father’s office.
She stopped.
For a brief moment, she simply stood there, staring at the closed door.
Her father’s words from earlier echoed faintly in her mind. There’s someone I want you to meet.
She adjusted her skirt subtly, smoothing the fabric over her hips. Then she lifted a hand to her hair, tucking a loose strand behind her ear. She didn’t know who was inside, and she refused to walk in unprepared. Appearances mattered, especially now.
She drew in a slow breath.
“Alright,” she whispered to herself.
Then she pushed the door open and stepped inside.
The office was quiet.
Too quiet.
Elara paused just inside the doorway, her eyes scanning the room. The desk was empty. The leather couch sat untouched against the wall. Sunlight filtered in through half-drawn curtains, casting long, soft shadows across the floor.
No one was there.
Her brows furrowed slightly.
“Hello?” she called, her voice echoing gently in the space.
Nothing.
She stepped farther in, closing the door behind her. “Hello?” she tried again, slower this time.
Still nothing.
She took another step, her heels clicking softly against the floor—
And suddenly, an arm wrapped around her from behind.
The scream ripped out of her before she could stop it.
Elara jerked violently, instinct taking over as she wrenched herself free and spun around, her heart pounding so hard she could feel it in her throat.
“What the—!”
She stopped mid-sentence.
Her breath caught.
Standing in front of her, wearing an infuriatingly familiar smile, was Henry.
For a second, her mind refused to process it. She simply stared at him, her eyes wide, her body still tense, her heart still racing from the shock.
“You—” she tried, but the word dissolved into nothing.
Henry raised both hands slowly, laughter spilling from him, easy and unapologetic. “Wow,” he said. “That was intense.”
Her shock hardened into disbelief.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded, her voice finally finding strength. “I thought you left the country. I thought you weren’t coming back.”
Henry tilted his head slightly, studying her expression like he found it amusing. “Is that disappointment I hear?”
Her jaw tightened. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
She folded her arms across her chest. “And what gave you the right to grab me like that?” she added sharply.
He shrugged, completely unbothered. “Relax. We’re old friends.”
That did it.
“Oh, please,” Elara snapped. “Don’t insult me. We are not close friends. And we never were.”
She stepped closer, her voice lowering. “Tell me—what kind of friend disappears without a word?”
Henry opened his mouth. “You know that wasn’t—”
“Parents,” she cut in immediately. “It’s always parents.”
She exhaled through her nose, shaking her head. “You know what? I don’t even understand why my dad said someone important was waiting here.” Her gaze swept over him pointedly. “Are you the important person?”
Henry didn’t answer right away.
Instead, he turned casually and walked over to the couch, lowering himself onto it as though he belonged there. He leaned back, stretching his arm along the backrest, entirely too comfortable.
Elara remained standing.
“I asked you a question,” she said firmly. “Why does my father think you’re important?”
“Can you calm down?” Henry replied lightly. “You’re always so serious.”
She stared at him, unimpressed.
“I heard about the trouble your father was having,” he continued. “I came to help.”
“We fixed everything before you arrived,” she shot back.
“I only found out two days ago,” he said, sitting up slightly. “I took a flight immediately.”
She waved it off. “You’re still avoiding the question.”
Before he could respond, the door opened.
Elara straightened instinctively.
Victor stepped inside, his presence filling the room effortlessly.
“Ah,” he said pleasantly, “Mr. Berner. I see you’ve met my daughter.”
Elara stiffened.
“Mr. Berner,” Victor continued, gesturing toward Henry, “this is Elara. Elara, this is Mr. Henry Berner—our top investor.”
The words landed slowly.
Heavily.
Elara turned her head toward Henry, disbelief flashing across her face.
“You?” she said quietly.
Henry smiled.
- Writer
