Entangle hearts

CHAPTER 1

NORA P.O.V

I stepped out of the taxi and stared for a few minutes at the magnificent building in front of me. I had only seen the Maldive stem Company in magazines, but seeing it up close was even more breathtaking than I had imagined. The architectural design was top-notch, a testament to why they were the leading architectural company in Mexico.

Clutching my CV tightly, I took a deep breath and checked my outfit for the umpteenth time before heading into the building. The interior designs were unlike anything I had seen before, and for a moment, I felt like I didn’t belong. But I mustered the courage and approached the receptionist, who directed me to the interview waiting room for interns.

My heart sank as I entered the room to find nearly a hundred other hopefuls waiting. I shyly found myself a seat, keeping my head down.

After a few minutes, the guy next to me struck up a conversation.

"Getting an internship here is one hell of a ride," he said.

"Hi, I’m Asher," he added, extending his hand.

"I'm Nora," I replied with a smile. Our attention quickly shifted to the applicants coming out of the interview room. The interview was conducted in batches, and I noticed that only a few came out with the hopeful expressions they had when they went in.

"Passing the online exam wasn’t easy, and it looks like we still have another mountain to climb," Asher said, watching the applicants leave.

I sat there, looking at my CV, hoping I would get lucky, even if it was just this once.

After what felt like hours of waiting, my badge was finally called. Asher and I were in the same group. Walking into the room that had seemed so intimidating before, I couldn't help but feel a shiver run down my spine at the stern and serious looks of the interviewers sitting at the other end of the room.

I was about to walk to my seat when disaster struck—my heel broke, causing me to lose my balance and fall. The loud thud of my body hitting the ground echoed through the room, drawing everyone's attention.

“So sorry, Nora,” Asher said, offering his hand.

I took it shyly and stood up, adjusting my dress. I removed my broken heel and walked barefoot to my seat, feeling everyone's eyes still on me. My face burned with embarrassment, and I tried to hold back the tears threatening to spill over.

Does the universe get my wishes twisted or something? I wondered, trying to steady my nerves.

I was so embarrassed and lost in my own thoughts that I didn’t realize my turn had come up.

“I’m so sorry, ma’am,” I apologized, realizing the lady had called my name twice.

“What do you think is one of the problems hindering technological growth in New York?” she asked, looking straight at me with an expectant gaze.

My mind raced. “Uh, I think one key challenge is the high cost of living and doing business. This impacts the ability of startups and tech companies to attract and retain top talent and to manage operational expenses effectively,” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady.

She jotted down some notes, her expression unreadable, before moving on to the next candidate. I sat there, my heart pounding.

Did I do well? Were they disappointed?

All I had done since I got here was mess up. Tears threatened to spill again, but I blinked them back.

The interview was almost over, and I had been asked only one question compared to others who had several. My mind kept replaying the embarrassing moment when I fell.

“And you, miss, why do you want to work here?” the woman finally asked, making me feel noticed again.

I had listened to others' answers, but I had to dig deep for my own reason.

Taking a deep breath, I said, “To be honest, I’m here because who wouldn’t want to work at Maldive Stem Company? It’s a place where anyone can learn and achieve so much. However, I hope to be someone who not only benefits from the company but also becomes beneficial to it.”

There was a brief, awkward silence after I spoke. Then, a guy at the end of the table chuckled, breaking the tension. His laughter seemed to lighten the mood, but it also drew attention to my words, making me feel even more exposed.

“You’ll get feedback from us soon,” he said, signaling the end of the interview.

We all rose and left the room. Once outside, I walked hastily, eager to leave the environment that had become so suffocating. My heart was still racing, and I felt the sting of tears again. I felt so embarrassed I wanted to crawl out of my skin. Walking out barefooted, I noticed some people staring at me, I kept my head low hoping to leave the area soon.

I got to the garage and then noticed I had taken the wrong elevator, meaning I had to do some extra walking to get to the front of the building. I placed my hand on my forehead, showing a sign of tiredness and regret.

What did I just do? I thought to myself as I flashed back to what had happened in the interview room. The fact that I had practiced for this interview and had only come this far to mess things up made me hate myself even more.

I bent down, resting my face on my knees, and began sobbing quietly. The garage was dimly lit, and the sounds of distant traffic added to my sense of isolation. After a few minutes, a beep from my phone notified me of a message from my aunt, reminding me I had to head home.

I stood up, my shoes in one hand and some files in the other, and followed the signs that would lead me to the outside of the building. The weight of my disappointment hung heavily on my shoulders. I was lost in thought when I bumped into someone...

MANUEL P.O.V.

I got to the garage and decided to take a few minutes in the car, while my bodyguards waited outside. I opened my phone and went through the message again: “Meet me at the garage.” I knew Lucky was up to no good again.

I turned and noticed someone's presence in the garage, although I couldn’t see the person's face as cars seemed to obstruct my view. Curiosity piqued, I hastily got out and told my bodyguards to stay put and not follow me.

I was walking toward that spot, my head and eyes searching, when I bumped into someone

I used my hand to grab her so she wouldn’t fall. Her body tensed for a moment before she steadied herself. After a few brief seconds of catching her breath, she stepped back to give a reasonable distance between us. She quickly arranged her hair, her face hanging low, avoiding eye contact.

I took a closer look at her. The files in her hand and the id card showed she must have applied for a job here, and I noticed the heel of her shoe was broken. Her eyes were red, likely from crying, and her makeup was slightly smudged, a telltale sign of her emotional state.

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention,” she said, her voice trembling slightly.

I couldn't determine if she was naive or just had a rough day. Obviously, a broken heel on the day of an interview wouldn’t be good. Her clothes, though neat, showed signs of a long day – a wrinkle here, a slight stain there.

“Did you forget where you parked your car, miss?” I asked, trying to make sense of the situation.

“Uh, no, sir. I actually took the wrong elevator and found myself at the garage,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. She glanced around, clearly disoriented and embarrassed.

I furrowed my eyebrows, finding it hard to believe that a grown-up would get into an elevator and end up in a garage without noticing, despite all the signs. She seemed rather suspicious, I thought to myself.

Could she be sent by Lucky or something? But Lucky wouldn’t be so dumb to use someone as fragile as this to get to or spy on me, I mused. Her vulnerability seemed genuine, and I doubted anyone would go to such lengths to deceive me in such a clumsy manner.

"Thank you," she said quickly, starting to walk away.

"The way out is the other way," I called after her, noticing she was heading in the wrong direction. Wasn’t she seeing the signs or something?

She stopped and looked around, clearly disoriented. "Wait here, I'll get you someone to help you," I said, heading to my office

She stayed glued to the spot and nodded in response as I walked towards my office. The garage felt eerily quiet compared to the bustling activity inside the building, and I couldn't shake the feeling that something was off about her.

As I reached the first elevator, I called my bodyguards who were waiting in the garage. "There's a lady at the garage. She seems confused. I think her name is Nora Morales. Instruct one of the company drivers to get her home with one of the company cars," I said, then ended the call.

The elevator ride to my office felt longer than usual, the soft hum of the machinery a backdrop to my swirling thoughts. When I stepped out of the last elevator, my personal assistant, Rose, was waiting for me alongside other workers. We walked to my office together, the buzz of activity around us a stark contrast to the quiet confusion of the garage.

"Mr. Manuel, you have a meeting with the board in fifteen minutes," Rose reminded me, handing over a file with the agenda…

NORA P.O.V

Some huge-looking guys started walking up to me. I clutched my file and heels close, their imposing presence making my heart race with fear.

"Was I supposed to run, scream, or something?" I thought frantically, my mind spinning with a thousand and one disastrous scenarios that could happen to me.

"You must be Miss Nora Morales," one of them spoke up, snapping me back to reality.

"Uh, yes, I am," I said, my voice trembling. "Please follow us so we can lead you out of the building," he said, gesturing for me to walk with them.

"Uh, sorry, but someone already told me to wait. He said he'd be coming to help," I stammered, hoping they would leave me alone.

"We were assigned to help you, Miss," they insisted, signaling with their hands for me to follow. I forced an awkward smile, my instincts screaming at me to do something.

Then, in a split second, I made a decision: "RUN." I bolted without looking back, desperately trying to find my way out of the garage. The sound of their footsteps pounding behind me sent a jolt of terror through my veins.

"So they weren’t trying to help," I thought, panic rising as I continued running for my dear life. The garage felt like a labyrinth, every turn bringing more confusion. The dim lighting and echoing sounds amplified my fear, making the situation even more terrifying.

My breaths came in ragged gasps, and my legs burned from the effort, but I couldn't afford to stop. I glanced over my shoulder, my heart sinking as I saw them gaining on me. The exit had to be close—I just needed to hold on a little longer.

Finally, I spotted a sign pointing towards the exit. Mustering every ounce of strength, I sprinted towards it, praying I would make it in time. The exit door came into view, a beacon of hope in my desperate flight.

I burst through the door, the bright daylight momentarily blinding me. But I couldn't stop. I dashed into the open, scanning for anyone who might help. Ahead, I saw a security guard near the building's main entrance.

"Help! They're chasing me!" I screamed, waving frantically.

The security guards' eyes widened as they immediately left their post to come help me. I ran towards them as they approached, and we met in the middle, both coming to a halt.

I noticed the scary men in suits didn't hide or retreat. Instead, they stopped running and began walking towards me as I hid behind the security guards. The guards and the men in suits exchanged pleasantries, leaving me utterly confused.

"They're the ones who wanted to attack me," I said, stuttering and pointing at the men.

"We didn't attack you. You ran, so we chased you," one of the huge guys in a suit explained calmly.

"Miss, they can't attack you. They're part of the top security of this establishment," the security guard explained, his tone reassuring but firm.

"Oh," I said, feeling a rush of embarrassment wash over me. "I'm so sorry. I thought..."

"It's no problem, miss," the huge guy said, a slight smile softening his stern features.

There was an eerie silence as I stepped out from behind the security guard. I felt quite tense, standing between the towering security personnel and the guards, realizing I had caused a scene for no good reason. The air was thick with awkwardness, and my cheeks burned with embarrassment.

One of the top security personnel made a quick call, and in no time, a sleek company car arrived, pulling up smoothly to the curb. The car was immaculate, with tinted windows and a polished exterior that reflected the afternoon sun.

"Miss, this car will take you safely home. You just need to tell the driver your address," he said, opening the door for me with a courteous nod.

I smiled, feeling a mix of relief and embarrassment. "Thank you," I said, getting into the plush leather seat of the car. The interior smelled of fresh leather, a stark contrast to the musty garage. I had so many questions, but I had already caused enough trouble and headache for one day. It was better to just follow their instructions for now.

As the car drove off, I glanced back at the security personnel, who were still standing there, ensuring I left safely. The driver, a middle-aged man with a kind face, glanced at me in the rearview mirror.



"Where to, miss?" he asked politely.

I gave him my address, settling into the back seat. The tension began to drain away, replaced by a sense of overwhelming relief.

The driver turned on the radio, and soft classical music filled the car, providing a soothing backdrop to my racing thoughts. I leaned back, closing my eyes for a moment, letting the music calm my nerves.

As we approached my neighborhood, the familiar sights brought a sense of calm. The tree-lined streets and cozy homes were a stark contrast to the towering buildings and bustling activity of the city center. The driver pulled up to my house, and I felt a wave of relief wash over me.

"Thank you," I said again, stepping out of the car.

"You're welcome, miss. Have a good day," the driver replied with a nod.

I watched as the car drove away, then turned and walked up the path to my front door. The day's events still weighed on my mind, but I was grateful to be home, safe and sound. For now, all I wanted was to relax and try to make sense of everything that had happened.