Malissa clutched the receiver tightly, her voice rushed and uneven.
"I think our phones got swapped."
There was a brief pause on the other end of the line.
"Huh?" The man's tone carried surprise, though it was restrained, controlled. He did not sound like someone who was easily shocked.
"Yeah, I know it sounds crazy too," Malissa continued quickly, her words tumbling over each other. She was speaking too fast, but she could not help it. Anxiety was crawling up her spine. "But I think I have your phone and you have mine. How do we meet up so I can get my phone back? I have pretty important stuff on it."
"What do you suggest?" His voice was clipped and businesslike, as if they were negotiating a contract rather than exchanging phones.
Malissa quickly thought for a moment. "Could we meet up at the same coffee shop? The one in front of the office area. I still have a few minutes left on my break. If it's fine by you, I'll leave now."
"Alright," he said curtly, and without another word, he hung up.
Malissa hurried out of Aurora Publishing, her heart pounding as she rushed toward the café she had visited that morning. The sun was higher now, and the streets were busier. People moved quickly along the sidewalks, cars honked in the distance, and the smell of coffee drifted from the café doors.
She clutched her bag tightly, her mind racing with worry.
My phone. My files. My designs. My contacts. Please let everything still be there.
She had been waiting for almost thirty minutes, and he still had not shown up. The café buzzed with chatter, the sound of coffee machines steaming milk, cups clinking, and quiet conversations filling the air. But she barely noticed any of it.
Her eyes kept flicking to her watch.
Lunch break had ended three minutes ago, and she was already late.
Would they really come? she wondered, her patience fraying. With the way he sounded grumpy over the phone. Does he seem like someone I should trust?
She felt played, and the thought did not sit well with her. There was no way to reach him again. She had only managed to dial her number through the office phone earlier. Now she was stranded, anxious, and growing more irritated by the minute.
Her mind began to spiral.
What if they went through my phone? My files, my unpublished designs, my drafts, my storyboards… everything I have worked for. Even my fangirl side. The playlists, the photos, the videos. If any of that leaks, I am finished.
She imagined her team leader finding out she lost her phone, mocking her for being careless and irresponsible. The thought alone made her stomach twist.
She sighed and rubbed her forehead. Lack of sleep was making everything worse. Her head was starting to ache slightly, and her eyes felt heavy again.
Just as she was about to give up and leave, she noticed a man dressed in a well tailored suit entering the café. He carried a quiet aura, his posture straight, his expression calm. His eyes scanned the crowd slowly as though searching for someone specific.
Malissa froze.
He was strikingly handsome, but there was something detached about him. He did not look like someone who belonged in a noisy café. He looked like someone who belonged in a corporate tower or a private office on the top floor of a skyscraper.
For a moment, she simply stared.
Then she realized he might be the person she was supposed to meet.
Lost in the moment, she quickly raised her hand and waved her phone slightly, hoping to catch his attention.
The man noticed immediately and walked toward her with long, purposeful strides.
"I believe this is yours," he said, handing her the phone. His tone was clipped and professional, as if he were delivering a document rather than returning a phone.
Relief flooded her instantly. She grabbed the phone and unlocked it immediately. The familiar wallpaper of Jimin stared back at her, and she exhaled shakily, feeling her shoulders relax for the first time in hours.
She quickly scrolled through her files, pictures, notes, and videos, checking frantically. Everything seemed intact. Nothing appeared deleted or moved.
"Thank you so much," she said, her words tumbling out in a rush. "I really thought I had lost my phone. You do not know how happy this makes me. you did not go through my phone, right?"
The man did not react emotionally. He simply gave a small, polite nod.
"I trust you understand the importance of discretion," he said calmly. "If any confidential information from Mr. Marquez's phone were compromised, legal action would be taken immediately."
Malissa's brows furrowed slightly. She looked up at him properly this time, irritation flashing in her tired eyes.
Mr. Marquez? so that rude man from earlier is important enough to send someone else instead of coming himself.
"I could say the same," she replied, her tone slightly sharp. "My phone is not a toy either. I hope you did not go snooping."
The man's expression remained impassive. "No tampering was found. That will be all."
He turned immediately and walked away, his stride brisk and confident, disappearing into the crowd outside the café within seconds.
Malissa stood frozen for a moment, her phone clutched tightly in her hand.
Short of words, she shook her head slightly.
What kind of people are these? No apology. No thank you. Just threats and attitude.
She shoved her phone into her bag and muttered under her breath, "Some weird guy. More like a narcissist."
Realizing how late she was, she quickly left the café and started running toward her workplace. It was only three blocks away from the café, but in her current exhausted state, it felt like ten.
As she ran, her bag bounced slightly against her side and her breathing became uneven. She slowed down slightly near the office building entrance, trying to catch her breath before walking in so no one would notice she had been running.
Her mind was still unsettled.
Mr Marquez.
She repeated the name silently in her head. It sounded familiar, but she was too tired to think deeply about it.
She pushed the office door open and slipped inside quietly, hoping her team leader had not noticed her absence.
Back at her desk, she tried to focus on her work again, but her mind kept drifting back to the café, the suited man, and the name Mr Marquez.
Something told her this was not the last time she would cross paths with him.
And this time, it would not be accidental.