Chapter Three: The Mask Beneath the Surface
1427 Words
eagerness to showcase their best ideas, Ethan was in a world of his own. He remained distracted throughout the meeting, his eyes fixed on the papers before him, but his mind could see nothing but that singular moment... Gazelle’s spontaneous wink.
The details crept into his imagination like a slow-motion cinematic reel, and an involuntary, warm smile tugged at his lips, shattering the mask of sternness he always wore.
This uncharacteristic smile did not go unnoticed by the staff gathered around the table. Whispers began to ignite in the corners of the room:
"Is he... actually smiling?"
"Yes, I believe so... Oh my god, I think he’s falling in love!"
These hushed tones reached his ears, and he snapped out of his trance. Feeling a wave of embarrassment, he cleared his throat forcefully to regain his mellow, authoritative voice, interrupting their murmurs. He rearranged his papers with feigned seriousness, looked directly at the Chief Financial Officer, and redirected the focus to work with a firm tone:
"Very well... We were discussing the economic viability. Based on your latest study, what are the projected profit margins for this project?"
The CFO rolled his eyes in confusion, quickly masking his mocking smile before answering in a professional tone:
"Based on the latest market study, sir, we expect profit margins in the first quarter to exceed 25%, especially with the new marketing plan."
As the manager droned on with numbers and statistics, Ethan looked at the papers and nodded, but deep down, the word "profits" took him elsewhere entirely... He was thinking of the profits of his own heart ever since Gazelle entered his life.
As soon as the meeting adjourned and the staff cleared the hall, Ethan breathed a sigh of relief. He turned to his personal assistant, Majeed, and pulled out his mobile phone, showing him a photo he had secretly taken of the girl sitting at the table across from him at the restaurant.
Ethan said in a calm tone, trying to mask his underlying interest:
"Majeed... I want you to look into this girl. She told me her name was Gazelle. I want to know everything about her."
Majeed took the phone, scrutinizing the details of the image, his eyes scanning the young girl’s features. Suddenly, signs of recognition and surprise appeared on his face. He looked at Ethan and said:
"Sir... I know this girl very well, but her name is not Gazelle!"
Ethan furrowed his brows in confusion and sat up straight:
"What do you mean?"
Majeed handed the phone back to Ethan, explaining professionally:
"This girl applied to work at our company as an intern a short while ago, and her file passed through my hands. But the name registered on her official papers and ID is Rachel, not Gazelle. And unfortunately... her application was rejected by the HR department."
The words hit Ethan like a shockwave. He stared at the photo on his phone again. The shock wasn't just because she had been rejected by the company, but because she had hidden her true identity from him and used a pseudonym. Thoughts clashed in his head: Why did she lie about her name? And what was Rachel hiding behind the mask of Gazelle?
Ethan did not hesitate for long. A mysterious gleam ignited in his eyes as he looked at her image. He leaned back in his chair and said to Majeed in a calm but decisive tone that brooked no argument:
"Then, cancel the rejection immediately, Majeed. I want her to start her internship at the company at the beginning of next week."
Majeed was surprised by his boss's persistence, but maintained his professional composure and asked:
"Under what job title or in which department should I place her, sir?"
Ethan offered a mysterious, side-lipped smile and replied:
"In the Public Relations department... And I want you to oversee her case yourself, but without mentioning anything about my involvement. Let her think her acceptance came naturally based on a re-evaluation of her file."
Majeed nodded as he took notes:
"As you wish, sir. I will contact her and inform her of her acceptance under her official name... Rachel."
As soon as Majeed left the office, Ethan pulled out his phone again and contemplated her picture from the restaurant. Thoughts swirled in his mind; on one hand, he was happy she would be near him, but on the other, his curiosity burned to know why she was hiding behind the name Gazelle.
Rachel arrived home still bearing that controversial appearance; her features held remnants of defiance, and her mind remained fixed on her last encounter. As soon as she opened the door and took her first steps into the living room, she was met by a familiar current of criticism and control.
Her uncle sat there with a sullen expression, and beside him, her grandmother peered at her with sharp, disdainful eyes. They didn't wait for her to catch her breath; the grandmother initiated the reprimand with her gravelly, accusatory voice:
"So, you’ve finally graced us with your return? Look at your appearance and your manner! Is this the attire of a respectable girl from our family? Your negligence and recklessness have gone too far, Rachel!"
The uncle joined the chorus of rebuke, shaking his head in helpless disapproval:
"Your grandmother is right. This negligence of yours will bring us trouble. How long will you continue to follow your own whims without any consideration for us?"
Rachel stood before them, a look of complete coldness on her face. She didn't bother to respond or justify herself, nor did she engage in the futile arguments she was accustomed to. With complete calm and confidence, she slowly raised her hand and extended her middle finger toward them, saying in a sharp, cold tone:
"f**k you."
Silence suddenly gripped the room, as if time itself had stopped. The words fell like a thunderbolt upon the uncle and grandmother, whose features froze in a state of utter shock and disbelief, unable to fathom that Rachel had dared to cross every red line in such a manner.
Without waiting to see their reaction or hear the coming explosion of shouts, she turned with her head held high and climbed the stairs with firm, quick strides toward her room.
She locked the door behind her, isolating herself completely from the outside world. She headed straight to the bathroom, turning on the warm water to wash away the day's fatigue and the tension surrounding her. After a long, quiet bath, she wrapped herself in a warm bathrobe, threw her exhausted body onto the bed, and surrendered to a deep, comfortable sleep, indifferent to the storm she had left behind downstairs.
As soon as her bedroom door had slammed shut, the state of shock vanished from the faces of the uncle and grandmother, replaced by a raging fire of anger and confusion.
The uncle stood up, shaking his clothes nervously, pointing his finger upward as his voice trembled with outrage:
"Did you see? Did you see what she just did?! 'f**k us'?! This girl has rebelled completely; she no longer respects young or old!"
The grandmother gripped her cane and struck the floor with intense frustration, her eyes filled with even more suspicion than anger. She said in a low, sharp tone:
"Calm down, Louay... This is bigger than just bad manners. Haven't you noticed? The girl has changed entirely for some time now... as if she’s someone else entirely!"
The uncle stopped pacing and furrowed his brows, contemplating the grandmother's words:
"What do you mean?"
The grandmother shook her head with sorrow and mystery:
"The Rachel we know—the quiet, obedient girl who used to hide from her own shadow—would never have dared to look us in the eye, let alone perform that filthy gesture! For some time now, she has been acting strangely; her gaze, her way of speaking, her constant leaving... It’s as if another soul has inhabited her body. This is not our daughter, Louay. There is a secret behind this transformation!"
Silence reigned in the living room again, but this time it wasn't the silence of shock; it was a silence of doubt and fear of what Rachel was planning, or what she had become.
- Writer
