Adrian didn't forget things.
That was one of the few things he trusted about himself.
Details.
Patterns.
People.
He remembered what mattered.
And ignored what didn't.
So why...
His pen paused mid-signature.
Just for a second.
Why did that moment in the hallway stay with him?
It wasn't even a conversation.
Barely an interaction.
A glance. A step. A quiet voice.
Nothing important.
Nothing worth remembering.
And yet...
His jaw tightened slightly.
That scent again.
Not here.
Not now.
But the memory of it lingered.
Faint.
Annoying.
Persistent.
He exhaled slowly, setting the pen down with more force than necessary.
Enough.
There was work to do.
A knock sounded.
"Sir?"
"Come in."
The door opened, and his assistant stepped in, tablet in hand, posture straight as always.
"You asked for the updated files," she said, placing them neatly on his desk.
Adrian nodded once.
But didn't reach for them immediately.
Instead...
He leaned back slightly.
"There was a meeting earlier," he said.
The assistant paused. "Yes, sir."
"The finance team."
"Yes."
Adrian's gaze shifted slightly—not to her, not fully.
Just… somewhere else.
"There was someone there."
A small pause.
The assistant blinked. "There were several people, sir."
His fingers tapped once against the arm of his chair.
Then stilled.
"An intern."
That narrowed it down.
Slightly.
"Yes," she said carefully. "There were two interns present."
Two.
His expression didn't change.
But something in his posture sharpened.
"Names."
She glanced down at her tablet, scrolling briefly.
"Lina," she read. "And—"
"That one."
She stopped.
Looked up.
"Sir?"
"Lina," he repeated, like confirming it to himself.
The name felt… familiar.
Not in memory.
In feeling.
A quiet pause settled in the room.
"Get me her file," he said.
The assistant hesitated.
Only slightly.
But enough.
"…Is there an issue?" she asked.
Adrian's gaze lifted to meet hers.
Calm.
Cold.
Unreadable.
"No."
A beat.
Then...
"I want to know who works in my company."
A reasonable answer.
Professional.
Clean.
But something about it didn't sit right.
Still...
She nodded.
"Of course, sir. I'll have it sent to you shortly."
She turned to leave.
"Wait."
She stopped again.
Adrian's fingers tapped once more against the chair.
Then stilled.
"…Everything," he added.
The assistant frowned slightly. "Sir?"
"Her background," he said, voice quieter now. "Education. History. Performance."
A pause.
Then...
"Everything."
That wasn't normal.
But she didn't question it again.
"Understood."
The door closed behind her.
Silence returned.
Adrian leaned back slowly, his gaze drifting toward the window again.
Lina.
The name settled in his mind.
Not heavily.
Not yet.
Just...
There.
He didn't know why he chose her.
Out of everyone in that room.
Out of all the faces he had seen.
It didn't make sense.
But something about that moment...
That brief, quiet moment...
Didn't feel like coincidence.
And Adrian didn't believe in coincidences.
Across the office floor, Lina felt it again.
That subtle shift.
Like being watched.
She stiffened slightly, her fingers pausing over the keyboard.
Then slowly...
She looked up.
Nothing.
Everyone was working.
Talking.
Moving.
Normal.
Her chest tightened anyway.
Stop overthinking.
She forced herself to look back down.
To focus.
To ignore it.
But the feeling didn't leave.
Not completely.
Later that evening, a file landed on Adrian's desk.
Clean.
Organized.
Complete.
He stared at it for a moment before opening it.
Lina.
A simple profile.
Nothing extraordinary.
Good academic records.
Consistent performance.
No red flags.
No standout anomalies.
Normal.
Too normal.
His eyes scanned the page once.
Then again.
Slower this time.
There was nothing here.
Nothing that explained...
He stopped.
A small detail.
Almost insignificant.
Same high school.
Years ago.
His fingers stilled against the paper.
A faint crease formed between his brows.
He searched his memory.
Nothing.
No face.
No interaction.
No clear recollection.
Just...
A feeling.
"…strange."
He closed the file.
It didn't matter.
It shouldn't matter.
And yet...
He didn't move it away.
It stayed there.
On his desk.
Within reach.
Like something unfinished.