For a long moment, the only sound on the line was the faint, static breathing of the old woman waiting for an answer.
Sharon's mind, which could process millions of lines of code in seconds, went completely blank.
The warmth in Obaasan's voice was a physical weight on her chest, pressing the air out of her lungs.
"Sharon-chan? Are you still there?"
The gentle prodding snapped her out of it. She forced a brightness into her voice that felt like shards of glass in her throat.
"Obaasan! I'm so sorry, yes! Things are just… so busy right now." She let out a laugh that sounded too high and tight.
"You know how Kenzo is. He's buried in a massive new project. I barely see him myself!"
It was a lie, and it tasted like ash. She leaned back against her cold desk at Nakamura Corp, she gripped the phone until her knuckles were white.
"A project? He didn't tell me," Obaasan said, her tone laced with a grandmother's gentle suspicion.
"It's all very secret," Sharon whispered, making the web of lies thicker.
"He's been so stressed. Just the other night, he tried to make us dinner and nearly set off the fire alarm. It was a disaster!" She told the story, her heart pounding.
She could almost see it: Kenzo, frustrated in a kitchen, a cloud of smoke, his brow furrowed. The familiar ache of longing and guilt twisted inside her.
Obaasan's soft chuckle on the other end was a small reward. "That boy. He never could cook."
There was a pause, and the woman's voice grew softer, more serious. "That is actually why I am calling, my dear. With all this work, you both need a break. I am having a small family dinner at the estate next weekend. I need you both here. It is very important."
It wasn't a request. It was a gentle command, delivered with the authority of a family matriarch. Cold fear ran down Sharon's spine.
She couldn't say no. To refuse would be to break the old woman's heart and raise questions she could never answer.
"Of course, Obaasan," she heard herself agree automatically. "We'll be there."
Hanging up, she dropped the phone onto the desk as if it had burned her. She was trapped.
She had to face Kenzo. She had to stand beside him and pretend that his touch didn't shatter her, that his voice didn't send shivers down her spine, that they were still the couple who had shared fireworks and whispered secrets on a veranda.
The weight of the deception felt crushing.
A sharp knock at her office door broke into her panic. "Enter."
The door opened to reveal Joe Nakamura, wearing his usual sharp, expectant smile.
Behind him stood a man she'd seen before, older, maybe in his fifties, with a weary, intelligent face and eyes that held a deep-seated skepticism.
"Sharon! I hope you're getting settled," Nakamura said, striding in. "This is Mr. Tanaka. One of my most senior strategists. He'll be your liaison with the Goldlight Heavy Industries team."
Tanaka gave a short, formal nod. "Ms. Lee." His gaze swept over her, from her new, expensive blazer to the uncertain look in her eyes, and it felt less like an introduction and more like an assessment. He didn't seem impressed.
"Mr. Tanaka," she replied, straightening her posture, summoning every ounce of professionalism she had left.
"Good, you two know each other," Nakamura interrupted, his energy filling the room.
He dropped a thick folder onto her desk with a loud thud. "This is your first real test. Goldlight Heavy Industries. Their contract is the biggest prize on the market this quarter. And it's currently in Hayashi Tech's pocket."
The name 'Hayashi Tech' hung in the air, a challenge and an accusation.
"I want that contract," Nakamura said, his eyes locking with hers.
"I'm not asking you to just compete. I'm asking you to win. You know their strategy. You know his patterns. You know where they're strong," he leaned forward, planting his hands on her desk,
"and you know where they're weak. Use everything you know. I don't care how. Just get me that deal."
He gave her one last, pointed look before turning and sweeping out of the office, Tanaka following with a final, unreadable glance in her direction.
The door clicked shut, leaving her alone with the heavy folder and an even heavier conscience.
She looked down at the file that represented everything she had lost. To win, she would have to tear it all down with her own hands.
She had just promised a sweet old woman she would play the part of a loving fiancée, while her new boss had just ordered her to destroy that same man.
Her phone buzzed, the screen lighting up with a reminder for a team meeting.
The real world was closing in. The performance was about to begin.