Chapter 2: The Answer Named Mussa
1296 Words
RALISA;
Two weeks after that night of prayer… I met him.
Mussa.
At first, life did not introduce him in a dramatic way.
There was no music.No warning.No moment where I suddenly felt something shift.
It was just work.
Normal, ordinary work.
The kind of day you don’t remember until much later when you realize it changed everything.
He came into my life through a project at the office.
An engineering team had been assigned to collaborate with us, and he was part of them.
I remember the first time I saw him clearly.
He wasn’t loud.
He wasn’t trying to be noticed.
In fact, he looked like someone who preferred not to be noticed at all.
Not tall in a way that demanded attention.
But there was something about his face.
Calm.
Controlled.
Almost… distant in a way that made people unsure how to approach him.
He spoke less than others.
And when he did speak, it was brief.
Precise.
Almost like he did not waste words on anything unnecessary.
At first, I did not think much of him.
To me, he was just another professional in another project.
Nothing more.
Nothing less.
But there was one problem.
He struggled with people.
Not in intelligence.
Not in knowledge.
But in communication.
Meetings were difficult for him.
Group discussions became tense whenever he was involved.
Not because he was wrong—but because he didn’t know how to express himself in a way people understood easily.
And somehow… that made people uncomfortable.
My boss noticed it first.
Linah.
She was the kind of woman who could read a room faster than anyone else.
And she did not like him.
Not at all.
I remember her voice clearly one afternoon after a meeting.
“Ralisa,” she said, closing her laptop slowly.
“Yes?”
She tilted her head slightly.
“You will handle him.”
I frowned. “Handle who?”
She didn’t even need to say the name.
Her eyes moved toward him instantly.
Mussa.
Standing near the window.
Quiet.
Alone.
Focused on some document in his hand.
I sighed. “Why me again?”
She smiled slightly.
“Because you are the only one he listens to without arguing.”
That was the beginning.
Not romance.
Not attraction.
Just responsibility.
At least that is what I told myself.
The first few interactions between us were strictly professional.
I would explain things to him.
Translate meetings.
Help him communicate ideas when others misunderstood him.
He would listen carefully.
Always.
Sometimes he would ask questions.
Sometimes he would just nod quietly.
There was something unusual about him.
He did not interrupt.
He did not try to dominate conversations.
He simply… observed.
And slowly, I began to notice something I did not expect.
He paid attention.
Not in a loud way.
Not in an obvious way.
But in small, consistent ways.
The kind of attention you only notice when you are not looking for it.
One afternoon, Linah pulled me aside after a meeting.
Her expression was different.
Not playful.
Not joking.
This time, she was observing me.
“Ralisa,” she said.
I looked at her. “What now?”
She leaned slightly closer.
“That man likes you.”
I almost laughed.
“Which man?”
She didn’t respond immediately.
Instead, she turned her head slightly toward him.
Mussa.
He was still there.
Standing alone.
But his eyes were not on his documents anymore.
They were on me.
And when I noticed that… he quickly looked away.
Too quickly.
Linah smiled like she had just confirmed something.
“I told you.”
I shook my head.
“No. You are imagining things.”
But even as I said it, something inside me shifted slightly.
Because I had seen it too.
After that day, I started noticing more.
The way he looked at me when I was speaking in meetings.
Like I was not just explaining things… but making sense of something for him.
The way his expression softened slightly when I entered a room.
The way he remembered small details I did not think he paid attention to.
It was subtle.
But consistent.
And consistency is dangerous.
Because it makes you start believing things without realizing it.
At some point, work stopped feeling like just work.
We started talking more.
Not about personal life at first.
Just small things.
Coffee breaks.Project updates.Random opinions about work culture.
Slowly… those conversations stretched.
They became longer than necessary.
Then unnecessary entirely.
Then personal without permission.
And I did not even notice when the shift happened.
He started walking me out after work sometimes.
Not every day.
Not in a planned way.
Just… occasionally.
Like it was natural.
Like it was nothing important.
But it felt important to me.
Even if I didn’t admit it.
The first time I truly felt something change was not when he touched me.
Not when he complimented me.
But when he simply said my name in a different tone.
“Ralisa…”
It was during a late discussion at the office.
Everyone had already left.
The room was quiet.
Just the two of us.
I looked up.
“Yes?”
He paused slightly before speaking.
“I understand things better when you explain them.”
It was such a simple sentence.
But it stayed with me longer than it should have.
Because it was the first time I felt… useful to someone in a way that felt personal.
Not just professional.
After that, everything slowly became softer between us.
We started going for ice cream after work.
Sometimes movies.
Sometimes just walking without purpose.
Nothing official.
Nothing defined.
But it felt like something was forming quietly in the background.
Something neither of us named yet.
Then one evening, everything changed.
We were sitting together after work.
The city was already dark.
People were rushing home.
Life was moving.
But we were still there.
He was unusually quiet that day.
Different from normal.
I remember looking at him and asking,
“You are very silent today. Did I do something wrong?”
He shook his head quickly.
“No.”
A pause.
Then he looked at me properly.
Not like before.
This time… fully.
“I just think about you a lot,” he said.
I froze slightly.
Because that was not a normal sentence.
At least not in my world.
I laughed nervously.
“Think about me?”
He nodded.
“Yes.”
Silence followed.
Heavy silence.
Then he added softly,
“I don’t know how to explain it properly.”
And that was Mussa.
He didn’t know how to say things in perfect emotional language.
But when he said them… they felt real.
The confession didn’t come with drama.
It didn’t come with rehearsed words.
It came quietly.
Like everything else about him.
“I like you,” he said one day.
Just like that.
No buildup.
No performance.
No fear.
Just truth.
And I remember how quickly I responded.
“Yes.”
Immediately.
Without hesitation.
Without thinking.
Because I was not the kind of girl who made love difficult for a man I already felt safe with.
And he smiled.
That smile stayed in my memory longer than anything else in that moment.
Because he looked… happy.
Genuinely happy.
The beginning was beautiful.
Almost too beautiful.
For the first time in a long time… I felt chosen.
Not chased.
Not confused.
Not played with.
Just chosen.
But I did not yet understand something important.
Some men are not loud in love.
They are quiet.
Controlled.
Structured.
And sometimes… silence is not peace.
It is distance forming slowly where you cannot see it yet.
The first three months felt like a dream.
Everything was smooth.
Soft.
Peaceful.
But then… reality started shifting.
- Writer
