The billionaire’s forbidden obsession

Maya checked the clock, 7:05 am. This was important, because the moment she ended her shift, it meant she stopped being legally responsible for anything that happened in this building. Her badge beeped. Green light. Freedom. Finally. “Nurse Ainslie?” She pretended not to hear it. That was allowed after twelve hours, she thought. But the voice came again, closer than the last this time. “We just need you for one second.” Maya turned around slowly, like someone being called back into a crime scene. The conference room was full. With doctors she could swear she’d never seen before. Fellow nurses whose gazes at her felt like they were gnawing through her skin. She stayed near the door. Her exit strategy. The hospital director began speaking. Maya wasn’t able to hear anything, her brain was performing its nightly shutdown: words coming in, not being processed thus leaking out of her ears. “…and of course,” the director said, “we’d like to recognize outstanding staff.” Maya’s head snapped up. No. Please don’t… “And Nurse Maya Ainslie—” Her body reacted before her brain did. She waved, trying to look enthusiastic but she really wasn’t. The room went quiet all of a sudden. The director squinted at his paper. “—for… uh… submitting the most incident reports this quarter.” The silence screamed louder. Someone coughed and another laughed too then stopped when they realized no one else was laughing. Maya’s hand was still mid air. She slowly lowered it like it was being metered down. “That’s not—” she started, then stopped half way, because genuinely, she didn’t know how to finish that sentence. The director continued, clearly committed now. “Your attention to detail has been… remarkable.” A doctor in the back muttered, “That’s one word for it.” Maya felt her soul leave her body. She had not submitted too many incident reports. She had submitted accurate incident reports. The difference mattered to her, and she was sure it did too to anyone who had sense. When she finally got off from work, her neighborhood looked the same as always. Everything smelt exactly like damp air and burnt leaves, and the music jamming from the fried food corner store that never closed. It wasn’t exactly cute, but it was home to her. Mrs. Monroe was outside arguing with a delivery guy. As usual. “You can’t park there,” she said, placing her hands on her hips. “That Space is reserved” “For who?”, the delivery man asked. “For emergencies,” she said. “And my peace of mind” Maya could only smile and keep walking. Her building was up ahead. Four floors left. The elevator had been “out of service” since forever so she had to climb the stairs instead, dragging her feet through every step she took. She dropped her bag in her apartment, checked the time, and sighed. She needed to get groceries for her mom’s bakery. She grabbed her reusable bags and headed back out before she could talk herself out of it. The bakery opened early, and her mom was counting on her. For this time of the day, the store was very crowded, leaving Maya to feel even more depressed. She had already had enough of people— or anything that had breath in them. The lights were too dim, the carts were loud, and everyone looked annoyed. Understandable. There’s nothing funny about earth anyway. She grabbed flour, eggs, sugar, apples, oranges— and anything else her mom might need. The bags ended up way heavier than she expected. She stepped outside and immediately she regretted not taking the cart all the way. She was halfway down the street when she noticed him. He wore a dark grey shirt and had his arms raised mid air with his phone in his hand like he was hoping better service would magically appear. “Definitely new around here” she leaves a light chuckle. She glanced down attempting to adjust her grip. First mistake. An orange spilled out mercilessly on the bare floor. Then another. And another— Mortified by the scene unfolding, she tries lunging forward to catch the oranges falling down, forgetting, completely forgetting the second bag in her other hand. That one gave up too. Apples, tomatoes, a loaf of bread and something wet— she didn’t even want to know what that was. He laughed. He wasn’t focused on his bad service anymore. She snapped her head up and their eyes met. Just like that, the laugh dried in his throat. Her face flushed— not with anger but with something much worse. Embarrassment. Yes, embarrassment layered with over exhaustion. she pressed her lips trying to hold back the tears forming in her eyes. Of course this would happen, her mind screamed. she was barely surviving the double shifts she had at work, her bills overdue and the responsibility of taking care of her mom’s bakery which was slowly giving up. Now this. Dropping groceries on the mere road like a damn kid in front of a stranger. The stranger she thought looked annoyingly good doing just about nothing. She truly wished the ground would open up and swallow her whole but a girl can only dream. She crouched down, her hands trembling as she stared at the mess on the floor. The man was already moving. He crouched down beside her, reaching for an orange before it rolled down into the street. “I– hey” “sorry I didn’t mean to laugh” She couldn’t look at him. “It’s no use” she said quietly, more to herself than anyone else. The words felt heavier than the groceries. “it’s okay…we can still fix this.” She almost laughed. Almost cried too. “It’s not about that” her voice felt tight. “These…these are all for my mom’s bakery” He paused. “if I go back like this”, she continued. “I will just look useless. Again” The word slipped out before she could stop it. He didn’t hurry to disprove what she was saying. He didn’t tell her that she was wrong. He simply handed her an orange, being very careful not to touch her hands with his. “Well, then we fix it,” he said after a pause. She finally looked up. “What?” "We fix it," he repeated, like it was obvious. "All of it." Something about him seemed so assuring. Like he could fix every broken piece of her life, if she handed every single one to him. Most people would break it even further but him— he had a sense of calmness. And his eyes. They might have seemed hollow but if you looked a little closely, you could see the kindness lying within them. Maybe it was just her. Anyone else would have disagreed. “You don’t have to,” she said and covered her legs with her elbows. ”I know," he replied. "But I want to." He looked like he was genuinely concerned for her, like he could sense how deeply exhausted she was from everything about life. She hesitated, examining him. it didn’t seem like he was trying to impress her. He wasn’t pitying her either. He looked…sincere.