It had never happened before, not in college, not in internships, not in the ten years of his career. He had prided himself on punctuality like it was a religion. And now, thanks to two hours of obsessive jogging and another thirty minutes of failing to teach himself how to smile, he was officially late.
"Unbelievable!" Ryan cursed, tossing his towel aside and sprinting into his bedroom. He pulled off his sweaty clothes, tugged on a crisp white shirt, then yanked his tie into place with practiced hands. His blazer slid over his shoulders like armor. Shoes polished. Hair fixed with a few swipes of gel. He was ready. Almost. The clock was still mocking him. Ryan grabbed his bag, his phone, and sprinted out the door.
The elevator doors at the end of the hallway were still open when he turned the corner. He cursed again, running faster. His leather shoes clicked sharply against the floor. But just as he reached it, just as he was about to slide in, the doors began to close. And standing inside, perfectly calm, was Maya.
Her eyes met his for a fraction of a second. Just enough to register his rushing, his panic. Then she did something so shocking that Ryan nearly tripped over his own feet. She pressed the close button. The doors slid shut. Right. In. His. Face.
For a moment, Ryan just stood there, dumbstruck. His mouth actually hung open, bag dangling from his shoulder. Did that… did that just happen?
He, Ryan Bennett: the man who had perfected the art of closing elevator doors on Maya, had just tasted his own medicine. It burned.
"Serious?" he muttered, staring at the closed doors as though sheer willpower could pry them open again. "She… she actually did it. She closed the door. On me." The absurdity of it all hit him. He chuckled once, bitterly, shaking his head. "Of course she did. And I deserve it."
But then he looked at the clock above the elevator. His smirk vanished. Sixteen floors. If he wanted to make it to the office before his meeting, he'd have to take the stairs. Ryan Bennett. In a tailored suit. Sprinting sixteen floors down. The universe clearly had a sick sense of humor.
By the eighth floor, his breathing had gone ragged. His tie felt like a noose. He yanked it loose with one hand, sweat prickling at his forehead. "This…" he gasped, clutching the railing, "is ridiculous. People pay for… stair masters… and I get it free."
By the twelfth floor, he was seriously reconsidering every life decision he'd ever made. "I got it," he panted, "How it felt …"
Finally, mercifully, he reached the lobby. He staggered out, straightened his blazer, and forced himself upright. People glanced at him oddly, probably wondering why he looked like he'd just run a marathon. He ignored them all, jaw set, eyes narrowed.
Because deep down, past the humiliation and the breathlessness, Ryan knew one thing with absolute clarity: Maya had beaten him at his own game.
And for the first time, Ryan Bennett wasn't sure if he hated it… or if he respected it.
The lobby was unusually quiet that morning, a faint hum of the air conditioner buzzing in the background. Maya stood near the mail counter, her posture calm and collected, her slender fingers flipping through a small stack of envelopes with the precision of someone searching for something important. She looked elegant even in the most ordinary action, her brows slightly furrowed, her eyes scanning.
Ryan entered the lobby, still slightly out of breath from his mad dash down sixteen floors. His hair was a mess, his shirt tucked on one side and hanging loose on the other, and his tie looked like it had fought a losing battle. But none of that mattered right now; his eyes had landed on Maya.
"Maya…" he called out, almost hesitantly, his voice carrying across the quiet lobby.
She didn't look up.
"Maya, listen…" he tried again, this time louder, rushing forward with more confidence than coordination.
And that's when fate, or rather, the freshly mopped marble floor, decided to intervene. His leather shoes skidded, his legs wobbled like a poorly balanced seesaw, and with one not-so-graceful flail of his arms, Ryan went crashing down to the ground.
THUD.
The sound echoed through the lobby like a dropped suitcase. He landed awkwardly, one hand clutching his waist, the other trying to save face literally from meeting the floor.
For a second, time stood still.
Maya finally looked up, her eyes flickering over him once, just once, and then, without a word, she tucked the letters she had collected neatly into her bag, turned on her heel, and walked away as if she hadn't just witnessed the tragic downfall of Ryan Bennett.
Ryan, still sprawled across the polished floor, groaned dramatically. "Unbelievable… not even a 'Are you okay?'' He muttered under his breath, dragging himself up like a wounded soldier after a battlefield. He dusted his blazer, fixed his tie with trembling fingers, and attempted to walk straight, though his limp made it clear the fall had done some damage to his pride and possibly his waist.
By the time he reached his office, he looked like he'd gone through a small war. Standing in front of Kai's desk, Ryan kept his gaze on the floor, both hands pressed to his aching waist.
Kai looked up from the pile of files in front of him, his sharp eyes narrowing instantly. "Do you have any idea how many hours you are late, Ryan?" His voice was calm, but the weight behind the words was enough to make Ryan straighten up immediately.
"Yes, sir. I mean… I apologize for that," Ryan said quickly, refusing to meet Kai's gaze. He fiddled with his tie, trying to make it look like he hadn't just crawled out of an accident scene.
Kai leaned back in his chair, studying him. "And look at the state you've come in," he said bluntly.
Ryan froze. His hand immediately went to his hair, smoothing it down frantically. "It's nothing, sir… I just slipped," he muttered, his voice almost defensive, as though admitting the truth made it worse.
Kai raised one eyebrow, unimpressed. "Slipped?"
Ryan nodded, adjusting his blazer, pulling it tight, then loosening it again, then adjusting his tie once more. "Yes, sir. The floor betrayed me. One second I was walking, the next second bam. Gravity is cruel, sir."
Ryan finally took a small breath and forced himself to speak the actual reason he'd dared to be late. "I… I need a leave, sir," he said, his tone dropping serious. "I have to go to the hospital."
Kai's sharp eyes locked on him immediately. "Hospital?"
"Yes, sir," Ryan said, lowering his gaze again. His fingers tightened around his blazer buttons, his throat tightening just a little.
For a long moment, the only sound in the office was the ticking of the wall clock. He studied Ryan, as if he were measuring the weight of those words. Finally, he leaned forward and set his pen down.
"Fine," Kai said simply, his voice firm.
Relief rushed through Ryan's chest, though he didn't dare show it. He nodded quickly, muttered another apology, and backed out of the office with small, careful steps, still holding his waist like the floor might attack him again at any second.
As the door closed behind him, Kai let out a low exhale, shaking his head slightly. Ryan Bennett, always polished, always punctual, always perfect, had shown up late, disheveled, limping, and begging for leave. Something, or rather, someone, was definitely changing him.
The glass walls of the cafe gleamed faintly under the soft morning sun. Inside, the smell of freshly brewed coffee swirled in the air, warm and inviting. It wasn't just a cafe to Ryan at that moment; it was the epicenter of his restless heart.
Ryan stood outside, his tall frame leaning slightly against the wall, his hands stuffed into his pockets, though his body betrayed the tension pulsing through him. He had told Kai he was going to the hospital. That would've been true. But for the first time in his entire life, Ryan Bennett, a man known for his flawless discipline, his unshakable truthfulness, chose to lie.
Not for work. Not for himself. But for her. Through the wide glass pane, he saw Maya.
His gaze found her immediately, like his eyes had been trained only to recognize her, to seek her out in a crowd. She was standing behind the counter, hair tied loosely, a few strands framing her face, her hands working effortlessly as she poured steaming milk into a cup. The smile on her lips was not rehearsed; it was the kind of smile that simply existed with her, the kind that lit up her whole face and somehow spread to everyone around her.
She leaned forward slightly, cracking a small joke at the customer waiting on the other side. Though Ryan couldn't hear the words, he could see the reaction: the customer laughed, shaking his head, and walked away with his coffee, still smiling.