My Father My Almost

THE GHOST IN THE FRAME

What started as a "maybe just for one night" turned into something Aliyah could never have predicted. She did not want the weekend to end after the second night, and soon they were spending all of their free time together. Their late-night talks became a routine that went into the early hours as they created a private universe with their words. With every secret told and every giggle hushed, their bond grew stronger.

The impersonal hotels were a thing of the past; she was now a constant presence in his space, in his life, wandering the minimalist halls of his real home, leaving traces of herself—a hair tie on the bathroom counter, a novel on his nightstand.

Months with Aliyah had sanded down Xavier’s sharpest edges. The change was so palpable that it became office gossip fodder. Xavier discovered that he truly valued the peace and connection Aliyah brought, and he was no longer motivated solely by conquest. His once-dominant predatory charm had faded into a polite professionalism. He continued to close huge transactions, but now he was a statesman rather than a conqueror. There was no more flirty banter with younger analysts. His eagerness to burn the midnight oil gave way to a desire to be elsewhere, driven by a newfound appreciation for meaningful companionship.

“Closing early again? ” His secretary, Zara, teased as he strode past her desk, grabbing his jacket.

“Yes, Zara, I am.” Xavier flashed a genuine smile. “And don’t call me. If there’s an emergency, call 911. If 911 can’t handle it, pray to God. Just don’t call me.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know the drill.” She giggled, waving him off. “Have a good night, X. Say hello to your lady friend for me.”

His lady friend. Aliyah was coming over, and he had promised to make her favorite meal, a herb-crusted salmon he’d spent the afternoon watching a YouTube tutorial for. The aroma of boiling garlic and rosemary filled the penthouse, which is typically a monument to chilly opulence. For the first time, the room felt less like a display and more like a house waiting for a heartbeat as golden hour light flooded through the floor-to-ceiling windows, catching the dust motes dancing in the air.

The doorbell rang. Like a child expecting Christmas, he rushed to the door, stripping off his apron. The cool CEO was gone, replaced by an eager man welcoming the best part of his day. He opened the door. Aliyah stood there, a soft smile warming the threshold.

“Hmmm, something smells nice,” she said, stepping inside as he leaned in to press a warm, lingering kiss to her cheek.

"Hopefully it tastes better than it smells," he replied in a low, contented voice as he closed the door behind her. He took her jacket, his fingers brushing against the soft wool of her sweater—just a simple, domestic gesture, but somehow it felt more intimate than any night they'd spent together.

The evening melted away in a warm haze of shared laughter and easy conversation. They traded stories.

His: the high-stakes banters of the boardroom. Hers: the small victories of her new consulting world. This easy intimacy deepened as the night wore on. The conversation faded into lingering touches. The comfortable silence of his penthouse gave way to a night of slowness, rediscovering a passion, a world away from their frantic first time.

“I'll just call in sick," Aliyah murmured, tugging the duvet higher and shifting closer to Xavier. "I don't want to leave yet."

"That's fine by me," he replied, tightening his arm around her. "I can just work from home.”

It was settled. They would steal the next 24 hours, a secret day just for them.

Later, Xavier was preparing for a Zoom call with international partners when Aliyah, feeling emboldened, decided to explore the penthouse. She'd slept over many times but had never truly ventured beyond the bedroom and living area.

“Liya, where are you?” His voice echoed through the spacious halls.

“In here,” she called from a walk-in closet down the east wing. He found her kneeling with a small wooden chest in front of her.

“What are you doing?” He asked curiously.

“I found this box. It has some of your old photographs,” she said, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Is this really you?” holding up a picture of a young Xavier, dressed in a flamboyant Elton John costume for Halloween.

He replied with a smirk. “Yeah, that was me. Rocking it the Elton way.”

“Yeah, right,” she giggled. Then her expression shifted to curious. “And who is this?” Aliyah brought up another photograph, this one of a young Xavier with a girl who looked to be around thirteen.

His smile didn't falter, but it became a little distant. “Oh, that's just a fling I had in my early years. I was a bad boy until I met you,” he said, his voice dropping to a warm, intimate murmur as he moved closer. “You straightened me up. And now, it's just you. Only and always.”

He grabbed her by the waist, pulling her up and into his embrace, effectively closing the lid on the past with his touch.

“Now come,” he said, steering her gently out of the closet. “Let's figure out what we're eating for lunch. I'm so famished.”