Serio

The city hadn’t changed as much as you expected. Streets still pulsed with hurried footsteps, glass towers stretching skyward, but you had. Years abroad had left edges hardened, scars hidden beneath the surface. You clutched the folder of documents tighter than necessary in the waiting area. This marketing understudy position under a senior executive was your chance—a steppingstone you couldn’t afford to miss. Then you saw him. Beyond the glass partition, surrounded by sharp-suited men, stood Serio. Your chest tightened. His posture, straight-backed and confident, the tailored suit perfectly fitted, hair swept back with precision. But it was his eyes cool, intense eyes that arrested you. For a fleeting moment, they met yours. Then he looked away, returning to his conversation as if you were invisible. You smiled bitterly. Four years apart, and you had ended things. What right did you have to expect warmth? The receptionist called your name. You straightened and entered the interview room. Mrs. Callahan, older and warm, introduced herself. Within twenty minutes, she offered you the position. “You’re sure?” you asked. “I’m sure,” she said. “You remind me of myself, eager, determined. I need someone like that.” She chatted as she guided you out, your mind still reeling. And then fate twisted the knife. You almost collided with him. Up close, Serio was even more devastating—jaw sharp, gaze unreadable, flickering toward you. Your chest ached with memory. Mrs. Callahan clapped her hands. “Perfect timing! Serio, this is the new assistant. They’ll help me transition responsibilities over the next few years.” You swallowed hard.