The rain had started just as Amara left the subway station. Fat drops splattered against the pavement, soaking the hem of her gray pencil skirt. She groaned inwardly, tugging her blazer tighter around her frame as she hurried toward the tall glass building where her office waited.
Another day. Another chance to prove she wasn't just "the new girl" who had spilled coffee-stained charts at her first presentation.
Inside, the air smelled of fresh paper and polished floors. Colleagues hurried past, murmuring about deadlines. Amara reached her cubicle, dropped her bag onto the chair, and powered up her computer.
Just keep your head down and work, she told herself. You'll make them forget the disaster.
But the universe, apparently, wasn't in the mood to give her a break.
Because less than an hour later, the sound of footsteps and cheerful greetings drew her attention toward the conference room. She glanced up, curious, only for her stomach to twist.
There he was.
Daniel.
The coffee-spiller.
Only now, he wasn't wearing the casual sweater from yesterday. Today he was in a crisp shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, carrying a leather portfolio like he belonged here. His easy smile lit up the room as he shook hands with her boss.
Amara 's jaw nearly dropped. You've got to be kidding me.
"Everyone," her boss announced, "this is Daniel Hayes. He'll be collaborating with us on the new Riverside Development project."
The words barely registered as Amara sank lower in her chair, hoping invisibility might suddenly become a real superpower.
Daniel's gaze swept the room—until it landed on her. His brows lifted in recognition, and that annoyingly crooked smile curved his lips. He didn't look embarrassed at all. If anything, he looked amused.
Oh no.
After the introductions, the team dispersed, but not Daniel. He walked straight toward her cubicle, his steps confident.
"Fancy seeing you here," he said lightly, resting a hand against the divider. "What are the odds?"
Amara forced her expression into professional neutrality. "This is a workplace, not a coffee shop. Try not to spill anything this time."
His laugh was low and warm. "Fair enough. But for the record, I'm actually great at presentations. Just… maybe not at doorways."
Amara rolled her eyes, but the corner of her lips threatened to betray her with a smile. She covered it quickly with a sip of water.
"You work here?" he asked, tilting his head.
She arched a brow. "Clearly."
"And now we're coworkers. Guess you're stuck with me."
Her stomach did that ridiculous flutter again, the same one from yesterday. She hated it. She didn't have time for distractions—especially not blue-eyed ones who crashed into her life with coffee stains.
"I don't get stuck," she said firmly, standing to gather a stack of files. "I move forward. So, if you'll excuse me, I have work to do."
She brushed past him, but not before catching the faint curve of his smile—the kind that said he found her stubbornness entertaining, maybe even… intriguing.
And though she refused to admit it, part of her wondered if fate really had decided something she wasn't ready for.
⸻