A young woman sat by the airplane window, stirring absentmindedly while gazing at the endless clouds outside; hips of clouds stacked delicately upon each other, drifting in slow, impossible serenity. Each puff seemed suspended in time, shimmering faintly in the sunlight that seeped through the plane's tiny window.
She had been away for years. But now, she was coming back.
Back to the country where her world had once been torn apart.
Back to where he was.
"Miss, would you like a soda with that?" the stewardess asked, breaking her reverie.
"No, this will do," she said with a light smile, glancing at the food tray before her. The aroma had long disappeared, leaving the dish cold and lifeless. "This is as cold as a dog's nose," she murmured, picking at it with a delicate hand.
"Well, revenge is a dish best served cold," she muttered under her breath, taking a small bite. It was more about the satisfaction of doing something her way than the taste.
She wasn't returning for nostalgia.
She was returning for closure.
Or so she told herself.
"Welcome to Switzeren. Thank you for flying Aeroways," the announcement chimed softly through the cabin.
The airport smelled faintly of coffee and exhaustion. Diane stepped through immigration with effortless grace, her documents neatly arranged, her expression serene. Her heels clicked sharply against the polished floor, echoing in the vast hall.
Outside, the air was different, crisper, colder, carrying that faint scent of rain she remembered so well. She inhaled deeply.
No one was there to greet her, no waving hands, no guiding directions. This wasn't the arrival of a tourist. This was a homecoming.
"Oh my goodness! Diane!" a voice called, brimming with excitement. A woman in a dazzling slim dress dashed forward, her dark hair catching the light as she moved. Her eyes, a deep shade of amber sparkled with genuine joy, and the soft gloss on her lips curved into an ecstatic smile. She enveloped Diane in a warm hug, the scent of jasmine following her, and they bounced together like children, spinning and laughing with abandon.
Years had passed since they last met, and hugging Clara made Diane's chest tighten with longing for her parents. Since traveling to Ireland for… her reasons, she had only spoken to them over the phone. The absence of their physical presence had been a quiet ache, and now it struck her anew.
"Where's Mum and Dad?" Diane asked hurriedly.
"They're at home, preparing something… I may have said too much," Clara said, sealing her lips in mock secrecy.
"Now look at you, Miss Classy Returnee." she said, brushing away the question with a compliment.
Indeed, Diane looked striking. Her outfit, a crisp white shirt beneath a tailored black jacket, jeans paired with a beautiful handbag dangling from her right hand was effortlessly elegant. Her brown hair cascaded down her back, catching the light and framing her features with an understated grace.
"Okay… have you been well, Clara?" Diane asked, smiling broadly. Clara was her cousin.
Clara gasped dramatically. "Vintage bag and a Dior jacket, Diane! What were you thinking?" She wagged her finger, teasing. "Hope you bought mine, huh?"
Diane laughed softly. "Still dramatic, I see."
"Please. Fashion is my oxygen," Clara said, twirling her car keys. "Come on, let's get out of here before someone mistakes us for celebrities."
"Look, at this baby," Clara said, striking a pose beside the car like a seasoned model.
"So you have to stand here with the car," Diane raised an eyebrow, amused.
"If I don't, my car might become someone else's property," Clara replied, smirking. "Switzeren is a naughty country."
"It's still going on, huh?" Diane asked, a smirk tugging at her lips.
"Well, this is Switzeren for you. Bad guys, good guys, they're all bad guys… that's just how it is," Clara shrugged, rolling her eyes playfully.
"Hey, want to go for a ride?" Clara flicked her car keys between her fingers like a playful warning.
They drove home, Clara behind the wheel. At one point, she braked too abruptly.
"Ahh, you're even a terrible driver," Diane exclaimed.
"Driving isn't something you master overnight… and at least stop swearing at me," Clara clicked her tongue, knowing Diane would mouth off just like when they were kids, bickering over trivial things like movie series.
"Why are you yelling at me now, huh?" Diane asked, rubbing a bump forming on her forehead.
"It was right here," Diane said, pointing. "We haven't even reached it… anyone could have seen that."
"Shush, else I drop you off on the streets," Clara teased, though Diane knew it was all playful banter.
They laughed until the city melted into quiet suburbs, where the air smelled like wet soil and bougainvillea.
When the gates of her family's duplex opened, Diane's heart stuttered. Everything looked smaller, softer.
She barely stepped out before her parents rushed forward. Her mother's embrace was instant, her father's grip firm.
"Mum! Dad!" Diane cried, embracing them tightly. Tears streamed freely as her mother caressed her hair and her father pulled her close.
"I wonder why I'm not included in this reunion," Henry, Clara's brother, muttered.
"Oh, get in here!" Diane laughed. Henry passed by, and Clara mock-punched the air at him teasingly.
Entering inside the house, they had prepared a reunion with flowers and gift cards for her return. She cried happily – it was a warm welcome-back party where only her family were the guests.
Evening fell, and Diane finally settled into her old room. She sank onto the edge of the bed, breathing in the familiar scent, feeling a soft nostalgia wrap around her. Her mother had welcomed her back proudly, admiring the woman she had become.Her work card lay beside her suitcase.
Name: Diane Grey
Occupation: Product Developer
But that title was just a mask. Beneath it was a woman who had come back for something else. Something long overdue.
The window light softened her face. She smiled. But her eyes were cold, eyes that had seen betrayal, heartbreak, and ruin. And behind that calm gaze, something waited. Something dangerous.
"Hey, are you just going to sit there and smile like a weirdo?" Clara's voice shattered the calm, dragging her out of perfect solace.
"Why don't you go to sleep first, then we'll talk tomorrow," Diane fired back, fully aware Clara was attempting to tease her into spilling secrets.
"You're such a weirdo," Clara muttered under her breath.
"Hey, are you sure you want to work there?" Clara asked, her voice tinged with concern now.
Diane's gaze hardened, eyes flashing with anger and long-buried pain. The gentle smile vanished.
"Yes, I have to. I need to repay their kindness," she said firmly, her jaw set with determination.
"Don't let yourself get hurt… okay?" Clara warned, leaving Diane to her thoughts.
The next morning, sunlight poured through the blinds. Diane dressed neatly, her heart steady despite the storm brewing within.
"Hey, cos…" Clara leaned closer. "You play with fire. If you get burnt, I warned you," she said, her own version of a blessing.
"Then I'll just burn brighter," Diane replied with a soft smile.
The bus was crowded. Diane clutched the handle, only to be slapped on the side.
"Hey!" she shouted, grabbing the man by his shirt. "How dare you!"
Passengers intervened, but Diane wouldn't relent. "This man touched me!"
"I did not—" he stammered.
"You per…"
The scene devolved into chaos, almost comedic, as Diane tugged at his shirt and hair, clever in her retaliation.
***
Far away, beyond the reach of traffic and sunlight, another scene unfolded.
A room dimly lit, curtains drawn close. A man leaned into the mattress, his weight pinning down the woman beneath him. His lips pressed against hers, slow but hungry, and his half-unbuttoned shirt slipped carelessly down one shoulder. Shadows clung to him like secrets.
"Let's get to business already," the woman whispered, her breath warm against his ear. Impatience made her words tremble.
"Really?" His reply was soft, mocking.
The moment thickened. But then...
Knock. Knock.
The sound sliced through the haze.
"Sir," Rick's voice carried from behind the door, steady and unyielding. "Your car is ready. It's almost time for the interview."
The man sighed, sharp and heavy, the way someone might exhale a storm. His jaw tightened, irritation coiling in his chest. "Seriously? I can't even have a moment alone?"
He sat up, the weight of reality dragging him back.
"What's the matter?" the woman asked softly, her fingers brushing down the line of his back as though she could hold him in place.
He shrugged her touch away. "Take the money," he said, tossing a folded check onto the bed, "and get out."
The door swung open without waiting for permission. Rick stepped inside, every line of his posture composed. "I'm sorry, sir, but the interview has already begun." His eyes flicked briefly to the woman scrambling to hide her face with her.
What was there to be ashamed of? he thought silently, though he kept his expression unreadable. She gathered her belongings in a flurry and rushed out of the room without looking back.
The man stood slowly, buttoning a clean shirt, his eyes cold as he glanced at Rick. "Are you going to judge me now?"
Rick adjusted his tie with practiced calm. "Let's get to the interview first," he said quietly. "Other casualties will follow."
A chuckle broke from the man's throat, dark and edged with amusement. "Casualties," he repeated, sliding in his jacket. "Hmm. Let's go."
The two walked through the passage in silence with Rick at his back. Rick finally broke the silence " they are among the tops, considering their database and recommendations... so behave". "Copy!" The man answered lazily.
The elevator hummed as Rick pressed the button for the last floor. The mirrored walls caught their reflections; one man calm, the other restless. Soon, the doors parted to reveal a waiting Benz S-class , its surface like liquid fire. Sitting in was a polished leather chair silk and brown it convenience was to no measure. Rick was driving. "What is their rating"he asked " five" was Rick's short answer
The drive was quick. At their arrival, greetings rose like a tide.
"Good morning, sir!"
"Good morning, sir!"
He walked through the chorus of voices, each bow and nod growing louder, as though the weight of his presence demanded it. Rick followed closely, silent but watchful, a shadow beside his master's light.
Inside the conference hall, the sense of power was palpable. On the polished table, engraved in bold letters, waited the title: Llewellyn Blackwood -CEO, Skypower Corp.
The company's name carried weight. Skypower's tower pierced the clouds; a monument to ambition. It wasn't just business; it was empire, its reach stretching from boardrooms to governments. And today, they searched for something new: a face for the future, a challenger to stand at the CEO's side
One by one, the candidates entered.
"You said you wouldn't know how to respond if the stock price collapsed beyond precedented ," the CEO said, his voice low, sharp as glass.
The young woman across from him trembled. "No, I didn't mean it that way..."
He cut her off with the flick of his gaze. "But you did. You spoke without discipline".
She wilted in silence. She was dismissed before she even knew it.
That one word was enough for you, smarty pants, he thought grimly. He wasn't searching for cleverness. He was searching for someone who could compete.
Another woman entered soon after, her appearance polished, her answers measured and sharp. She carried herself like she belonged there, like the room itself bent toward her.
The CEO's eyes lingered.
"What's your name again?" he asked, voice dropping into an unsettling cadence.
Rick cleared his throat, giving his boss a ' better behave' look cutting through the heavy air.
"Ah." The man smirked faintly, tossing her file aside. "We'll notify you of the outcome."
The candidate bowed out quickly, the moment dissolving with her footsteps.
He motioned his head towards her telling Rick to follow.
It was something he always do if he couldn't reach ladies his eyes caught because he was in a meeting or conference, seminar these things were like hell for him.
And Rick was not caught up with that, he was exasperated at that play. Rick left. The next batch of candidates entered the room. " Probably another waste of time" he muttered beneath his breath looking at the file, while yawning.
"We are sorry sir" the panels said hearing his silent complaint.
When the last batch of candidates entered, the CEO's attention was already fading. He leaned back in his chair, half-bored, eyes distant.
But then—
His posture shifted. His breath caught.
The air changed.
He was staring at a woman who shouldn't have been there, a face pulled straight from the depths of memory.
Diane.
The name echoed in his chest like an old scar reopened. The woman standing before him looked composed, confident… yet those eyes; those eyes he had once kissed under a storm; were the same.
For a heartbeat, he wondered if he was dreaming. But the clarity in her eyes shattered that illusion.
She was real.
And with her, every memory he had locked away came rushing back, vivid as fire, merciless as truth.
His world tilted.
It wasn't just an interview anymore.
It was a reckoning.
And though no one else noticed, the air changed.
For them, the present had merely opened the door to the past — a past that waited quietly, ready to spill its secrets, reshape memories, and uncover the roots of everything that was about to come.