CHAPTER FIVE: THE MISSED COURTESY
1167 Words
The skyline stretched endlessly before him — the early morning light bleeding gold over glass towers and quiet rooftops. Adrian sat back in the recliner on his penthouse balcony, a cup of untouched coffee cooling beside him. The city below was already stirring, but up here, everything was calm — the kind of silence that demanded reflection.
He had been awake for hours, running numbers through his mind. A new deal in Dubai, another in Berlin. The company’s expansion was ahead of schedule. Every metric, every projection — perfect. His father would have been proud.
He thought of the old man often — stern, commanding, with a mind built for conquest. “You don’t build empires on feelings, Adrian. You build them on precision.” He could still hear that gravelly voice, steady as ever. It had taught him everything about control, power, and leverage.
Adrian smiled faintly. Precision — that part he’d mastered. But something about that word didn’t sit right anymore.
The morning breeze shifted. He set the cup aside and rose, walking into the bedroom. The space was large, modern, almost impersonal — white sheets, dark marble floors, the faint hum of automated curtains sliding open. He sat on the edge of his bed, rubbing his temple, thinking about the day’s meetings: contracts, calls, schedules.
Then, out of nowhere, it hit him.
He froze mid-thought as his mind replayed the moment Ava had visited his office — the quiet way she’d spoken, the softness in her tone. And how, in his rush to manage the situation with Clara and make things right, he’d forgotten something embarrassingly simple.
He hadn’t offered her a drink. Not even water.
For a man known for precision, the thought landed like a stone in his stomach.
He leaned back slowly, exhaling. “A whole Adrian Walker,” he muttered. “And I couldn’t remember basic courtesy.”
The absurdity of it made him almost laugh — almost. He ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head. “She probably thinks I’m arrogant,” he murmured, pacing back toward the balcony. The city was fully alive now — horns, footsteps, distant chatter rising from below.
He didn’t know why it bothered him so much, but it did. Maybe because, for the first time in a long while, someone had walked into his office without asking for anything — except to say thank you. Maybe that’s what unsettled him: genuine simplicity in a world that had long forgotten it.
By the time the sun reached its peak, he’d made up his mind.
---
The next morning at Greenwood School, the courtyard buzzed with children’s laughter and the scratch of chalk against boards. Teachers moved in and out of classrooms, balancing stacks of papers and half-drunk cups of tea.
When a sleek black car pulled into the small lot, heads turned. Adrian stepped out, dressed casually this time — a light grey shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows, carrying that same calm air he always did.
He asked a passing teacher for Ava, and soon she appeared at the doorway, startled but composed.
“Mr. Deluca,” she said, surprised. “You didn’t say you were coming.”
“I didn’t plan to,” he admitted. “I just… realized I owe you an apology.”
She blinked. “An apology?”
“For not offering you something to drink — or eat — when you came to the office.”
Her lips twitched. “You came all the way here for that?”
He smiled faintly. “Apparently, I’m trying to correct a terrible first impression. Thought I’d make up for it — maybe lunch?”
“Oh, you don’t have to,” she said quickly, a little flustered.
“I insist,” he replied smoothly. “So you don’t go on thinking I’m uncultured.”
She laughed softly. “Uncultured? I wouldn’t say that.”
They began walking along the school’s garden path — a narrow walkway lined with faded benches and small flowering plants the children had planted.
“So,” she teased, “you didn’t offer me water because you thought it was too expensive for me to handle?”
He looked at her, half-shocked. “What? No, that’s not—”
She broke into laughter. “I’m kidding. You’re too easy to tease.”
He exhaled, amused. “You really enjoy that, don’t you?”
“Just a little,” she said, still smiling.
They walked on, talking lightly — about the school, the children, how grateful everyone was. She mentioned a student named Henry who refused to open his new backpack because “it was too fine for school.” Adrian laughed.
For once, the laughter wasn’t polite or measured. It was genuine.
When they reached the gate, he said, “Tomorrow then? Lunch?”
She hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Alright. Tomorrow.”
“Good,” he said, a faint note of satisfaction in his tone. “I’ll pick you up.”
She smiled. “I’ll hold you to that.”
He watched as she turned and walked back toward the classrooms, sunlight glinting off her hair.
---
Later that evening, Adrian sat at his office desk, laptop open but his thoughts elsewhere. The city’s night glow reflected faintly off the glass walls. His phone buzzed — Derek.
He answered, leaning back in his chair.
“Look who finally remembered I exist,” Derek said, voice crackling through the speaker. “How’s the empire holding up?”
Adrian smirked. “Still standing. You?”
“Still breathing — barely. Your mother tells me you’ve been turning down every dinner, luncheon, and potential fiancée she’s lined up.”
Adrian groaned. “You’ve been talking to her again?”
“She called to report you. Said you’ve become allergic to women and social life.”
“Sounds like her.”
“So,” Derek continued, teasing, “what’s this I hear about you showing up at a community school? You, Mr. Corporate?”
Adrian chuckled softly. “You hear too much.”
“And you say too little,” Derek shot back. “Alright, I’ll bite. What’s her name?”
Adrian smiled faintly, eyes drifting toward the city lights. “Ava.”
“Ah,” Derek said knowingly. “Now it makes sense. So what’s the story?”
“There’s no story,” Adrian said calmly. “Just… someone real.”
Derek laughed. “Careful, Adrian. That’s how every story starts.”
Adrian chuckled but didn’t reply. The silence between them was comfortable — familiar.
“Alright, man,” Derek said finally. “We’ll talk soon. Don’t overthink it. And try not to miss lunch this time.”
“I won’t,” Adrian said, a quiet smile tugging at his lips as the call ended.
The room fell still again, save for the hum of the city outside. He leaned back, hands behind his head, eyes tracing the skyline.
Tomorrow, he’d keep his word.
- Writer
