The morning air in Milan is crisp, laced with the perfume of espresso and cobblestone rain. Leila stands in front of Sinclair Enterprises' sleek glass tower—an edifice of ambition, power, and secrets she's yet to discover.
Her hands clutch her tote bag tightly, knuckles white. She's dressed modestly as always, her soft pink blouse tucked neatly into tailored trousers, a scarf looped lightly around her neck. Everything about her is composed. But inside, the nerves hum like live wires.
"You've handled worse. You've handled everything," she reminds herself.
The revolving doors usher her into a different world—one of marble floors, sharp silhouettes, and conversations in clipped, confident tones. She inhales deeply, her flats clicking against the polished floor as she follows directions to the 32nd floor, where the project management division resides.
She doesn't know Elias is already there.
Meanwhile…
Elias stands by the tinted glass of his corner office, coffee in hand, reviewing her resume again.
"Leila Zaman," he murmurs, eyes scanning over her credentials. "Forensics major. Certified in Project Management… Consistently top of her class."
There's something unsettling about this. He didn't expect her file to show up here—and he didn't expect his reaction to it either. She isn't applying for anything beneath her. She's capable. More than that—there's something about the steadiness of her. Quiet, but present. Calm, but unshakable.
"Should I meet her?" he mutters under his breath.
Kai, lounging in a chair with his usual smirk, shrugs. "You'll know when."
Back with Leila...
Her supervisor, Ms. Giordano, leads her through introductions. Everything is moving fast—faces, names, systems, files.
"You'll be shadowing the assistant project manager for the first two weeks. You'll be involved in two ongoing logistics audits. Once you're settled, we'll assign you your own subproject," Ms. Giordano explains crisply.
Leila listens attentively, taking notes, nodding with composed gratitude—even though her heart is racing. She's determined to do this right. To make space in her life for both work and study without letting either suffer.
At lunch, she finds a quiet corner of the rooftop café, opens her planner, and starts mapping out her routine.
Mornings for job prep. Evenings for lectures. Weekends for lab work…
She chews the end of her pen thoughtfully, her brows pinched in concentration.
From the 33rd floor...
Elias walks past the internal CCTV feed and glances—just once.
She's there. Again in that soft scarf. Sitting alone. Focused. Not just beautiful—present.
Kai joins him, catching the flicker in his gaze.
"You're going to crash and burn, boss," he says with a low chuckle.
Elias doesn't respond.
He just watches.
And wonders.
Days pass like quiet sketches on glass—soft and clear, yet impossible to erase.
Elias doesn't make himself known. Not yet.
From behind his tinted walls, he watches.
Leila Zaman arrives every morning five minutes early, never late, never rushed. Her clothes are always neat, her scarf a constant—softly looped like a piece of armor she wears with grace. She moves through the office with a kind of discipline that speaks louder than words. Reserved. Focused. Never idle.
She lowers her eyes when she speaks to men. Keeps her hands neatly clasped when others fidget. When she's addressed, she replies in clipped, respectful tones—no extra words, no flirtation, no false laughter.
Elias notices it all.
"She doesn't try to please. She just… is," he thinks one afternoon, watching her politely decline coffee from a colleague with a smile and a shake of her head.
It isn't long before the whispers begin.
"She thinks she's better than us."
"She never comes to after-work drinks."
"Always acting so pure and proper. Is she for real?"
Elias hears them. He doesn't interfere.
But they irritate him more than he expects.
One afternoon, in the break room…
Two junior staff members sit whispering over coffee.
"She's always so cold," one says. "Never even lifts her eyes. I said good morning twice today."
The other snorts. "Yeah. Either she's painfully shy or putting on an act."
Elias walks past them silently. They stiffen at his presence.
He doesn't say a word.
But later that day, both of them receive assignments that require them to report directly to Leila for a week.
Back in her office cubicle…
Leila has learned to ignore it. The subtle stares. The tone behind certain greetings. She's used to being misunderstood.
"Stay focused, Leila," she tells herself, brushing off another comment disguised as a compliment.
She's learned to draw lines. To choose her silences carefully. Not out of fear—but self-respect.
Still… Some nights, she walks back to her dorm with a weight in her chest that has no name.
From his office…
Elias sits back, watching her through the glass.
For a man used to reading power in a single glance, she's a contradiction he can't decode.
She doesn't play office games. She doesn't flirt for favors. She doesn't try to impress.
And yet… she leaves an impression that lingers.
It makes him wonder: In a world where everyone wants to be seen, why does she choose to disappear?
He doesn't realize he's gripping his pen harder than usual.
Kai enters, raising an eyebrow. "You're still watching her?"
Elias doesn't answer.
But his voice is quieter when he finally speaks. "There's a strength in her silence. It unnerves people."
"And you?" Kai smirks.
Elias turns back to the glass. His gaze sharpens.
"I'm not unnerved," he says. "I'm curious.