<
The call came when I wasn't expecting it.
I was halfway through folding laundry, phone resting on the couch beside me Ziven was out for work, when it started ringing. Unknown number. I almost ignored it.
Almost.
Something made me pick up.
"Hello?"
"Is this Asher?" a woman asked, professional and calm.
"Yes."
"This is from-" she named the company, and my heart jumped so hard I had to sit down. "We wanted to inform you that you've been selected for the position."
For a second, the room tilted.
"I-sorry," I said. "Could you repeat that?"
She smiled I could hear it in her voice. "You got the job. We'll be sending the formal offer letter by email shortly."
My fingers curled into the fabric of my shirt. "Thank you," I breathed. "Thank you so much."
When the call ended, I just sat there, phone pressed to my ear long after the line had gone dead.
I got it.
I actually got it.
A laugh bubbled out of me before I could stop it, half disbelief, half relief. I stood up too fast, pacing the living room like the energy had nowhere else to go.
The first person I messaged was Marcus.
Asher:
I got it.
The reply came almost instantly.
Marcus:
WHAT.
TOLD YOU. I KNEW IT.
I'm proud of you 😭
I smiled so hard my cheeks hurt.
Then I hesitated.
My thumb hovered over another name.
Ziven.
For a moment, I told myself I didn't need to tell him right away. That I could wait. That it wasn't a big deal.
But it was.
And he was.
So I typed.
Asher:
I got the job.
The reply came less than a minute later.
Ziven:
Congratulations.
I knew you would.
Something in my chest loosened.
Asher:
Thanks.
I'm… really happy.
Ziven:
You should be.
I stared at the screen, warmth spreading through me in a way that felt both comforting and complicated.
I put my phone down before I could overthink it.
Marcus called a few minutes later. "You should celebrate," he said. "Properly."
"I don't have anything planned."
"Then let's plan something small. Food. That's enough."
I glanced at the time. "I need to buy groceries anyway."
"Perfect," he said. "I'll come with you."
I hesitated, just a second too long.
"You sure?" I asked.
"Yeah," he said easily. "It's your day."
So we went.
The store was crowded, noisy in that late-afternoon way. Marcus pushed the cart while I grabbed things off the shelves, my mood light enough that even the fluorescent lights didn't bother me.
"You're smiling," Marcus said.
"I can't help it."
"Good," he replied. "You deserve that."
We talked about the job hours, commute, what it might be like. He teased me about becoming a corporate adult. I told him he was dramatic.
For a while, I forgot about everything else.
<
The traffic light turned red.
I leaned back in the seat, one hand resting on my knee, gaze unfocused as the city slowed around me. The meeting had gone longer than expected, my patience wearing thin by the minute.
Then I saw them.
Asher was easy to spot.
He always was.
He stood near the entrance of a grocery store, talking animatedly, hands moving as he spoke. Marcus was beside him, pushing a cart, leaning in to listen.
They laughed.
The sound didn't reach me through the glass and distance, but I could imagine it.
My jaw tightened.
I told myself it meant nothing. That it was normal. That Asher was allowed to exist outside the boundaries of my attention.
Still, my gaze followed them as they walked inside together.
Too close.
The light turned green.
The car behind me honked.
I drove forward, irritation simmering low and persistent. I forced my focus back to the road, back to the meeting waiting for me.
He's not yours, I told myself.
You have no claim.
The reminder did nothing to calm the tightness in my chest.
The meeting passed in a blur. I answered questions. Gave direction. Signed off on decisions that required authority but not emotion.
When I stepped back into the car afterward, my phone buzzed.
A woman from the office stood nearby, smiling. "We're going out for drinks," she said. "A few of us. You should join."
I opened my mouth to decline politely.
Then another message came through.
Asher:
Come home soon.
Marcus and I made food to celebrate me getting in.
My eyes lingered on one word.
Marcus.
The woman was still talking. I barely heard her.
"Another time," I said abruptly. "I have somewhere to be."
I didn't wait for a response.
and walked off to my car fast
I drove faster than necessary, thoughts circling dangerously. Celebration. Food. Laughter.
Him and Marcus in the house. ALONE.
By the time I pulled into the driveway, the irritation had sharpened into something closer to anger unjustified, unreasonable, and completely mine.
<
Marcus was setting plates on the table when I heard the door open.
"Perfect timing," he said. "Food's almost ready."
I looked up.
Ziven stood in the doorway, jacket still on, gaze sweeping the room before settling on me.
For a moment, none of us spoke.
Then Marcus smiled. "Hey. Congrats are in order, right?"
Ziven's eyes flicked to him, then back to me.
"Congratulations," Ziven said again, this time out loud.
"Thanks," I replied, suddenly nervous. "We, um… we made something simple."
Marcus gestured at the table. "Sit. Eat. Celebrate."
Ziven took a step inside, closing the door behind him.
The air felt different.
Charged.
I didn't know why but I had the sudden, unmistakable sense that tonight was going to matter more than I'd planned.
And that whatever balance we'd been trying to maintain
was about to be tested.