"Sorry sir, for being late and not taking your permission to sit."
"Yeah, that's the thing. Always respect your seniors and more importantly, when that senior is your Boss."
"What! My boss? When did all this happen?" I was shocked as well as confused.
"Huh, Frank as always. Well, I don't have enough time to answer your question. Cause I think there is something else I would like to discuss with you all."
"Sure, sir, please go ahead. And sorry for the damage I caused you," I replied.
"Nice, you are good with words. Take your seat," he ordered, narrowing his eyes as if to convey this was just the beginning.
I sighed and grabbed the head of the chair to drag it out. It rolled over the cold tile with an unpleasant sound.
"What is it now, Mr. Anderson? Why are you still standing?" my new boss asked.
"Sir, I guess one of the wheels of this chair is missing."
He sighed and raised his right leg to rest it on the left.
"So what? You still have two choices—why disturb the meeting?" he replied, balancing his face on his left elbow.
"Either stand there or sit there. And yah!" He jumped off his seat and clapped. "Or leave this meeting," he smirked.
Suddenly, someone dashed the door open.
"That's enough, Keril. You are going way too far," he shouted.
This voice seemed familiar. When I turned around, it was my Boss. His howl was visible to everyone, but my eyes noticed something more interesting.
He was holding the doorknob, and his grip trembled—not with weakness, but with something deeper, more like hesitation that didn't match his voice.
His veins bulging above his collarbone whispered something else. It seemed the knob was not the only thing he was holding—he was holding back himself. Keril's smirk widened.
Again, my senses took charge, shaping reality itself. But all they did was clear the fog surrounding my memory. A fragment of memory flashed in my vision.
The Fragment of Memory:
(Aiden and his boss were sitting at a bar counter on the opposite side of the stage. Everyone was assembled to celebrate the golden jubilee of their company. Aiden was wearing a coal-black suit with a turtleneck, paired with a phoenix brooch whose chain was pinned to his left collar.)
"Congratulations, sir, it's been a long way," Aiden said.
"Yeah, of course. But without you, none of this would have been possible, let alone celebrated so grandly. Our customers increased significantly since the day you joined," Boss replied with gratitude.
"Sir, this means a lot, but I don't deserve it."
"No way, my son. You are more than that. You are like a lucky charm for our company. If I had two sons—I would have loved to have you as my elder son."
"Sir, you have a son?" Aiden asked.
"Yeah, I have a son. He's around your age and my only support after my wife died," Boss replied.
"Where is he right now?"
"Right now, he's wandering abroad," his boss replied and gulped down his drink.
He came off his seat wobbling—unable to walk straight—and went toward the stage to join the ladies. A few minutes later, a thump echoed in the hall. When Aiden rushed there, he realized it was his boss, passed out, lying on the cold tile—waiting for someone to lift him up.
Back to Reality:
So, our new boss Keril was the son of Boss.
"Aiden, I am sorry on behalf of my son," my boss apologized. Yet, there was a difference between the words of his mouth and his body gesture.
"It's okay, Boss. I know what he was trying to do. Anyways, it's fine as long as I don't have to prove I deserve this position. And my authority is not doubted."
Within a blink, Keril placed his hand firmly on my shoulder—as if he would dig a hole in my back.
"I never meant it. I was just testing you," Keril said, gritting his teeth. It was visible to me—even behind his mask.
"Testing me? You are not at that position."
"Well, I guess I am," he replied, staring into my eyes without a single blink.
"Your role here does not grant you the authority you're trying to claim," I said firmly. I guessed working with him was going to be one of the worst experiences of my life.
"We will see who has the caliber to stick to their words," he replied and went back to his seat—but sat in the chair placed to the right side instead.
"I think we should end this and focus on something more alarming," my boss announced. He ordered the peon to arrange a chair for me. All of us took our seats, and my boss's secretary started the presentation.
"As we all know, our honorable mayor was shot in the fare yesterday. Right now, he is in the hospital fighting for his life. But this fight is not only his but ours too. Ours in this aspect, that his insurance policy has been sanctioned by our company."
(He started showing slides elaborating the issue, along with policy documents with points highlighted boldly.)
"So, how is it an issue?" one of the members asked.
"It is an issue because the bullet which pierced our mayor's heart was not ordinary. It was filled with an unknown substance which is causing chaos. It is neither allowing the mayor to live nor die—ultimately making the medical list long enough to bankrupt us."
"But why do we have to pay it all? Don't we have a yearly margin below which we are not responsible?" Keril asked.
"That's the problem. His plan doesn't have a margin. We have to pay it all, and it's specified in the contract."
"Then who was the person assisting him all this while?" Keril asked.
"Mr. Anderson," the secretary replied.
"So, the ultimate cause of this problem is Mr. Anderson," Keril said, pointing at me, his eyes narrowed.
"Huh? Do you know what you are claiming right now? It's fine, because you don't know how these things work. Allow me to educate you, sir," I said, my voice steady.
"Sure, go ahead. Let's see what you've got," Keril replied with sarcasm.
"First of all, there's no need for you to be so informal with me. And second, it seems more like you don't bother to follow what you advise others."
"Stop it!" my boss shouted, rising from his seat.
"Sit down, Dad. Sit down—let him go on," Keril said. But the mixture of tones in his voice indicated something else. At first, he shouted, but later his voice softened—as if he suddenly realized something that had slipped from his mind.
"A while ago, you reminded me that position comes with responsibility, right? I would also like to tell you something."
"Why not?" Keril replied.
"Responsibility is not something to pass around. It is something we all share. And if you want to frame me, either come up with evidence or solutions. Moreover, if you are given the position, make good use of it instead of playing the blame game. Leadership demands accountability and action. Blaming others only weakens the team."
Keril's face flickered—he seemed to zone out for a minute. A while later, he came back to his senses, yet tried to put up a show as if nothing had happened. The room was silent—so silent I could hear the tick-tock of the clock.
"I give up. You win this time, Mr. Anderson. But I won't let this happen again," Keril replied proudly. Yet the acknowledgement rising in his eyes was visible to me. My words had a little effect on him, and that was enough for now.
"Now, shall we focus on fixing the problem instead of playing the blame game?" my boss taunted both of us. We apologized and took our seats. The meeting continued for two hours.
After the Meeting:
"Aiden, wait," my boss requested. My feet halted, waiting for him to come. When I turned back, I saw him rushing toward me as if he carried the weight of a secret too heavy to bear.
"Yes sir, what happened?" I asked politely.
"Aiden, come with me—huh! huh! I have something urgent to tell you."
In the middle of it all, a voice rose from just behind me, sharp as a blade cutting through the chaos.
"Daddy…" It was Keril.