Sharon's alarm buzzed softly, tugging her from a dreamless sleep. She stretched, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, and glanced at her phone. Six missed calls. Three new texts. All from Zack.
Her fingers hovered over the screen, hesitant. The first message read: "Sorry, had back-to-back meetings. Call you tonight."
Sharon exhaled slowly, a mix of frustration and resignation tightening in her chest. She loved him she really did but sometimes it felt like she was competing with his career for his attention.
She got out of bed, padded across the wooden floor, and began her morning routine: brushing her teeth, showering, and preparing breakfast. The smell of brewed coffee filled her small apartment, though she barely touched it, distracted by the swirling thoughts of Zack.
Her gaze drifted to the calendar pinned above her desk, dotted with lectures, assignments, and social events. Each colored square reminded her of how structured her life was—predictable, organized, safe. Yet the absence of Zack, even in these small moments, felt like a hole she couldn't quite fill.
Another message buzzed in: "Emergency at work. Can't make lunch. Sorry."
Sharon pressed her lips together, fighting the irritation that threatened to spill over. She understood. She knew his work was demanding. But the pattern—the constant cancellations, the fleeting moments of attention—left her quietly aching.
"Focus on your own life, Sharon," she whispered, stirring her cereal absently. "He's busy. That's not your fault."
Still, she couldn't shake the hollow feeling that lingered even as she grabbed her bag and headed out the door. The walk to campus was bathed in the soft morning light, yet the brightness did little to lift the shadow gnawing at her heart.
By the time she reached the campus, Sharon tried to bury her feelings under the routine of lectures and lab exercises. But every few minutes, her mind wandered. She wondered if Zack remembered she existed beyond the occasional text or hurried call.
Vera intercepted her at the cafeteria, a mischievous grin on her face. "Morning, Sunshine! You look like someone stole your favorite pen or your boyfriend."
Sharon rolled her eyes, though a small smile tugged at her lips. "He's just… busy, Vera. That's all."
Vera tilted her head, narrowing her eyes with playful suspicion. "Busy, huh? That's what they all say until you start questioning if they even care about spending time with you."
Sharon sighed, sitting down across from her. "I know he cares. He's just… constantly swamped. Meetings, calls, endless deadlines. Sometimes I feel like a placeholder until he has a free moment."
Vera leaned back, resting her chin in her hand. "Ah, the classic 'busy boyfriend' dilemma. It's a test of patience, isn't it? But Sharon… you have to ask yourself how much do you want to wait?"
Sharon's fingers twirled absentmindedly around the handle of her cup. The truth was, she didn't know. She loved Zack. She wanted to support him, to stand by him no matter what. But the constant gap between them made her feel unseen, and the loneliness was becoming harder to ignore.
Her mind wandered to small things: the dinners they'd missed, the walks in the park that never happened, the texts that were read but barely responded to. She felt a pang of resentment, though she quickly pushed it down. She didn't want to be unfair or controlling.
"Maybe I'm just overthinking it," she murmured to herself. But deep down, she knew it wasn't overthinking. It was a quiet frustration, growing, nudging her toward questions she wasn't ready to voice.
After her last lecture, Sharon decided to try again. She sent Zack a text: "Hey, free tonight? I'd love to see you."
Minutes passed with no reply. She fidgeted with her bag, walked across the campus quad, and tried calling him. Straight to voicemail.
A sense of frustration bloomed inside her chest. She loved him, yes, but why did it always feel like she had to fight for scraps of his attention? She wanted connection, presence not just fleeting moments stolen between his busy schedule.
Finally, a message arrived: "Swamped. Maybe tomorrow. Sorry."
Sharon leaned against a tree, feeling the warmth of the afternoon sun but unable to enjoy it. She let out a slow breath. "Maybe tomorrow," she whispered, bitterly. Tomorrow always seemed to be the day when he might have time, but today… today she felt invisible.
She walked home slowly, her thoughts a swirl of love, frustration, and longing. She couldn't fault him ,his ambition was part of who he was. But part of her wondered if their worlds were slowly drifting apart, one text at a time, one postponed meeting at a time.
By the time she reached her apartment, the shadows were long, and a faint chill had settled in the air. Sharon closed the door behind her, letting it click with a finality that echoed in the empty space.
Later that evening, Sharon's phone buzzed. Zack had finally called. She answered quickly, her voice bright despite the lingering frustration.
"Hey…" she began.
"Hey," Zack said, voice tired but warm. "I know… today's been impossible. Meetings ran over, client calls everything."
Sharon listened, biting the inside of her cheek. She wanted to speak, to express the hurt of the hours and days she had waited, but she also understood. She loved him. She could not fault his ambition.
"I get it," she said softly. "I just… I miss you."
"I miss you too," Zack replied sincerely. "I wish it was different. I wish I had time."
Sharon exhaled slowly, realizing something vital. She couldn't control his schedule, nor should she try. But she could control how she allowed it to affect her. She could choose to communicate her needs, to assert her presence, and to nurture her own independence alongside their relationship.
"Okay," she said finally, a small, hopeful smile forming. "Tomorrow then?"
"Tomorrow," he agreed, voice warm, a small reassurance she desperately needed.
As she hung up, Sharon sank into the couch, letting her body relax. The ache in her chest had softened. She still loved Zack, but she also recognized the gap between love and presence. And in that quiet evening, she vowed to embrace her own strength because sooner or later, life would demand it.
Little did she know, that challenge would arrive sooner than she imagined, in the form of a man she had never met, a forced arrangement, and a living situation that would turn her world upside down.
The next morning, Sharon walked into the city's sleek bank branch, her fingers tapping impatiently on her phone. Her bank app had malfunctioned yet again, deducting a transfer twice and leaving her balance looking like a cruel puzzle. After yesterday's frustration with Zack, today she was already on edge. She wanted nothing more than to resolve the problem quickly and get back to her routine.
"Good morning, ma'am. How may I help you?" a polite young teller greeted her.
Sharon forced a tight smile, her patience already fraying. "There's an error with my account. A transfer went through twice, and I need it corrected immediately."
"Of course, ma'am. Please have a seat; someone will assist you shortly," the teller said gently.
Sharon crossed her arms and tapped her foot, muttering under her breath. "I swear, if this isn't fixed today…"
She was halfway through another irritated sigh when the door at the far end swung open with a subtle but commanding presence. A man strode in, impeccably dressed, with an expression that practically screamed entitlement. His eyes scanned the room with a cold intensity. Sharon barely noticed him until she heard a deep voice cutting through the quiet hum of the bank.
"I need to see your manager," he said firmly.
The teller she was speaking to gestured toward the stairs. "Upstairs, sir. By your left, the first door is the manager's office."
Leo's jaw tightened. "I said, take me there."
"Sir, it's upstairs by your left," the teller repeated, a little more firmly.
Sharon's patience snapped. She stood abruptly, walking over to intervene. "Sir, please go show the place yourself, since some people clearly don't know what 'upstairs' means. I'm not in a hurry just go."
Leo turned his gaze on her, eyebrows raised, lips pressing into a thin line. "Excuse me, I hope you aren't referring to me, young woman?"
Sharon met his glare with fire in her eyes. "Mr… man, I wasn't talking to you."
He arched an eyebrow. "Oh? Then why offer unsolicited directions so aggressively?"
Sharon exhaled sharply, pointing toward the stairs. "Because some people think the world owes them directions to a manager's office. And some people have no patience for entitlement clearly."
Leo's eyes narrowed. "Entitlement? You don't even know who you're speaking to, do you?"
Sharon crossed her arms, tilting her head in disdain. "I do know who I'm speaking to. A bad character. Mr… Bad Character. Yes, that's you."
The corner of Leo's mouth twitched into something resembling a smirk, though his eyes remained icy. "Bad character? That's a new one. I suppose you hand out nicknames to everyone you deem rude?"
Sharon snorted. "Only to those who deserve it."
The tension crackled between them like static electricity, and Sharon didn't even realize how loud her voice had grown. A few other customers glanced up, curious, but neither of them seemed willing to back down.
"I insist," Leo said, his voice low but commanding, "that you retract that statement immediately."
Sharon's eyes narrowed, her jaw tightening. "I don't retract anything. You walked in here like the world revolves around you, and I refuse to let it slide. Mr. Bad Character, as I've decided to call you, needs to understand the meaning of humility."
The teller behind them cleared his throat nervously. "Ma'am… sir… perhaps we should"
"No," Sharon said sharply. "I've had enough of entitled men today. I am not in the mood to be polite when basic manners are absent."
Leo's cold, calculating stare softened ever so slightly into curiosity. Most people would have cowered or at least fumed quietly when confronted like this. Sharon, however, stood her ground, fierce and unapologetic. Something about that irritated him more than he cared to admit.
"And you," he said, stepping closer, though carefully not crossing any personal line, "have no idea who I am. Calling me a 'bad character' might be considered… offensive."
Sharon gave him a pointed look. "I don't care who you are. I care about how you behave."
He took a breath, leaning back slightly. "Very well. I am… impressed by your audacity, though I think you have no idea the trouble you're inviting yourself into."
Sharon tilted her head, her lips curling in defiance. "Trouble? I think you're in trouble if you can't handle a simple reprimand from a stranger."
For a moment, there was silence, just the soft murmur of other customers in the background. Sharon felt a strange thrill anger mixed with adrenaline while Leo felt something he hadn't in years: the need to gauge a person like a puzzle he couldn't immediately solve.
Finally, the teller, relieved, interjected. "Sir, the manager's office upstairs by the left is ready to see you now. Ma'am, your issue will be addressed shortly as well."
Sharon glared at Leo one last time. "Just know, Mr. Bad Character, the world doesn't always bend for you."
Leo's lips quirked into a dangerous smirk. "Noted, Miss…?"
"Sharon. Sharon Lights," she replied firmly.
"Miss Lights," he repeated softly, as if tasting the words, "consider this… the first of many encounters."
Sharon, oblivious to his identity as Leo Smith, turned sharply and walked back toward her teller, muttering under her breath, "I can't believe people like that exist."
Leo watched her go, the corner of his mouth tugging upward. "Oh, believe it. And you'll see plenty more."
The encounter ended with both of them fuming internally Sharon over the audacity of the man who had just barged into the bank, and Leo over the audacity of the woman who had called him a bad character.
Yet beneath their mutual irritation was an undeniable spark a friction that neither could ignore. It was a meeting neither had asked for, but one that would inevitably change both of their worlds.
And somewhere in that quiet tension, Sharon's heart, already bruised from Zack's distance, felt an unfamiliar mix of irritation and… curiosity.