Unlikely Destinies

Episode.3

At the end of the week, Marissa was accustomed to the quiet routine of the office. She knew when to duck her head and when to push forward. She knew which lifts would be fastest at lunch hours, which assistants gossiped the most, and how to circumvent Vera, the too-refined accounts officer who never missed an opportunity to make a scathing comment as Marissa passed by her desk.

"Nice blouse," Vera stated one morning, smiling innocently. "Old stock, then? I didn't know the early 2000s were going to be back.

Marissa smiled innocently.

"Comfort is always in."

Vera blinked at her eyes. Then frowned.

Marissa switched on her computer and opened the redevelopment files on her desk again. The first research task that was given to her group was to research the viability of redeveloping existing buildings in the city as mixed-use complexes for small businesses and low-income housing. Under Viktor's instructions, Charlie took over.

She was not reminded that most of her colleagues were more concerned with impressing Charlie than about the project. People whispered about him in envy or awe.

On the surface, though, Marissa was fine. She was a mess inside.

He passed by her desk each day. He stared at her for too long each day, as if she was always on his mind. She pretended not to see each day.

"He stared at you once again today," Liyah said on Friday night while watching Netflix in excess and eating greasy takeaway. "Are you certain the two of you hadn't been in a relationship previously?"

Marissa did not look up as she ate. "We did."

Liyah's eye flicked. What? But Marissa faltered. She had not yet told her the whole thing. "He was my best friend when I was a child."

Are you sure? "Maybe the Charlie Daniels?"

Before the money. Before Atlanta and before Viktor.

Liyah's spine straightened. "And he does not know you?"

That's "No."

"What in the world, girl? Why have you not stood up?"

Marissa stabbed a fry with her fork. Because if he wanted to, he would recall. I'm not here for him to get sentimental either.

Liyah observed her for some time. "You know that this can be so easily adapted into a movie? Like, the multimillionaire who could not recall the girl who used to swipe his sneakers.

Marissa smiled half-heartedly. "Yes, girls like that don't usually have happy lives."

***

Where Charlie Daniels had always trusted his instinct, lately it was making him anxious.

Marissa Villaon was in his mind every minute. He had encountered many new workers during his years, and some were memorable, some not so memorable, but none of them caused him to reflect on his childhood like pieces of a puzzle.

He knew her. Perhaps a mix of recollections: dusty roads, days during summer, and laughter echoing near a creek.

One day, he ended up in her department. He had done it by mistake, he told himself. But he intercepted the research group just as Brian and Marissa were discussing the data.

Charlie kept her focus on her movements—intense, effective, and quietly assured—even when they were just discussing work. We knew the faint smile she had when making a point, and the way she c****d her head when she was listening.

He felt it all day, but he soon got over it.

_ _ _

She spent the weekend at the East Point community library, where Marissa and Liyah volunteer occasionally. She enjoyed the quiet, the scent of books. The feeling that time is slipping backwards.

She sat alone in the kids' section, sorting returned picture books, when a little girl tugged on her arm.

Ruth asked me, "Miss Rissa, can you read this to me?" holding a tattered picture book.

Ruth was the daughter of Issah and their landlord, a nine-year-old curious girl with a heart that was larger than her body.

Marissa responded with a smile. Just one, please? Then I have to get this stack done.

They lay side by side on the beanbags as the sun streamed through the window, and she read about a flying squirrel and a stubborn turtle. It was easy for a time.

These were the moments she ached for, the unadorned things of life. The things not about suits, heels, and make-believe.

***

Charlie should have done his best during Monday morning's team planning session. But Marissa was standing in the room, citing softly the breakdown of resource allocation in their most recent analysis.

Her tone was smooth as she spoke. Her eyes never wavered.

When they struck his, however, something passed through them. Only a flicker.

He couldn't help but wonder what she thought. I wonder what she was like before she became this serene, unbending individual.

And why her smile brought something to mind.

Later in the day, Vera walked over to Marissa's desk and gave her a fake smile.

Hi, just wanted to warn you. Management informs me that certain files have disappeared from the usual drive. They are guessing a newcomer might have misplaced them. Probably just an oversight, but watch out. Don't want you getting in trouble too soon.

Marissa's eyes glanced up slowly. Thanks. I'll look through my files.

Vera nodded with a pseudo-sympathetic glint in her eye. "Just keeping an eye out."

As Vera left, Marissa's gut clenched.

She knew that the tone was too sweet to be real, but she had no idea what Vera was plotting. It was a glint she'd seen before.

That was a sign.

That night, Charlie was aimlessly looking at old social media profiles. When he typed in her name, Marissa Villaon, nothing specific had come up. She had some minimal online presence.

But her voice? that expression on her face.

He was positive that he recognized her.

He opened the file of old pictures again. He saw a blurry picture of a girl laughing maniacally while hanging upside down from a playground pole.

"Mari," he said.

Could it be made to work?

The parts had not yet been fitted. And yet something was changing. Slowly.

It was also inevitable that the past and future would intersect.

Marissa sat at her desk long after the rest of the office had closed up shop. Blinked city lights in the window beside her.

She read again a message from her mother asking about work.

She typed, "It's okay." It is odd to see someone from the past.

She did not want to talk about him. No, not yet.

But she felt something changing. As though a wave was gathering, silent but inescapable.

She looked over the empty office to the corridor Charlie always walked. And for a moment she thought:

When the wave finally hit, would they both be ready?