The decision didn't happen on paper.
I watched Mira from my desk, the way her eyes moved over the candidates in the waiting area. She'd been observing them all day—every hesitation, every forced smile, every flourish of confidence. Some tried too hard. Others hid behind polished exteriors. But one stood her ground. Calm. Present. Real.
I saw the moment she picked the person. Not just talent—instinct. That rare, unteachable instinct that told her who could keep pace with her, work with her, challenge her when needed, and yet not overwhelm her.
Through the glass walls, I watched her pulse quicken slightly as HR shook hands with the selected candidate—the second interior designer who would be working directly with her. Not because of a résumé. Because Mira had said so. She hadn't just picked a designer. She had chosen a partner.
I leaned against my desk, jacket in hand, pretending to look at files but really observing her.
