There’s an unwritten rule in the universe: when your life is already falling apart, the ex you hate most will show up looking his absolute best.
“Are you serious?” I finally asked.
“Completely.”
I looked him over from the tips of his shoes to his face. Still the same. Still slick. Still far too calm. Still the Dimas I used to know, who always looked like he had a backup plan for everything.
“You show up on the day I get fired and offer me a job,” I said quietly.
“Sounds like the plot of a soap opera a TV network rejected for being too coincidental.”
Dimas didn’t answer right away. His eyes dropped briefly to the brown bag in my hand before returning to my face.
“I know the timing is bad.”
“Bad?” I laughed again, more bitterly this time.
“No, Dimas. It’s cruel. And kind of funny, I guess. The universe really does have an obnoxious sense of humor.”
“Can we talk somewhere quieter?”
I glanced around. The lobby was crowded. A few people had started looking at us curiously. Some pretended not to pay attention, but they were obviously eavesdropping.
“The quiet place you mean isn’t your apartment, is it?”
“Alya.”
“Because if it is, I’m saying no. I don’t want to be part of your version of the ‘kind-hearted ex’ scenario.”
Dimas drew a slow breath. For the first time, I saw his expression change.
“I’m not forcing you to do anything. I’m only asking you to hear me out. If you’re not interested, you can leave. I won’t stop you.”
I stared at him for a long moment.
Once, I would have believed him immediately. I would have treated every word Dimas said as a promise I could rely on.
But that had been four years ago.
“What kind of job?” I finally asked.
“A marketing project. Three months. Short-term contract.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You need someone in marketing, and you came to me? Doesn’t your company have its own team?”
“It’s a family business,” he answered shortly. “The situation is... complicated.”
“Complicated?”
“There’s a major project at risk of failing. We need a new strategy. Fast.”
I snorted. “You think I can save you?”
“I know what you’re capable of, Alya.”
It should have been a compliment. But on a day like this, his words sounded more like a reminder that he had once known me better than anyone.
It was infuriating.
“I don’t need your help,” I said.
“I’m not offering help.”
“Then what are you offering?”
“A job. A standard market-rate salary. Maybe... slightly above that.”
I fixed him with a sharp look. “Slightly above?”
Dimas didn’t answer immediately. He knew I was weighing every word that came out of his mouth.
“Enough to cover your expenses for the next few months. Plus a bonus if the project succeeds.”
My expenses.
A few months.
Bonus.
All those words spun through my head like a calculator being forced to work overtime.
Mom’s medicine.
My little brother’s tuition.
Bills.
Installments.
“I don’t take a job because someone pities me,” I said at last.
“I don’t pity you.”
“Then what is this?”
“I respect your abilities.”
Dimas looked straight at me. “If I pitied you, I’d give you money without asking for anything in return. But I’m not doing that. I’m offering you a job because I need someone like you.”
I fell silent.
Part of me wanted to believe him. Another part still remembered how he had left without saying goodbye, without an explanation, without the courage to look me in the eye and say that everything was over.
“Why me?” I asked softly.
“Because you’re the best option I know.”
“Compliments don’t mean anything to me, Dimas.”
“It’s not a compliment. It’s a fact.”
I stared at him for a very long time.
The lobby was still crowded. People continued to pass by. The world kept turning as if nothing had happened.
But amid all the noise, a small silence grew between us. A silence filled with everything we had never said four years ago.
“I need time to think,” I finally said.
Dimas nodded. “How long?”
“Tomorrow. I’ll let you know tomorrow.”
“All right.”
He pulled a business card from his suit pocket and handed it to me.
A simple white business card. His full name. His title. His phone number. His email.
There was no company logo. No fancy design. Just the information that was actually necessary. Very Dimas.
“I’ll wait to hear from you,” he said.
I accepted the card without a word. Part of me still wanted to tear it up, throw it in his face, and walk away just like that.
But I didn’t. I slipped the card into my tote bag, looked at him one more time, then turned to leave.
“Alya.”
I stopped, but didn’t turn around.
“I know I have no right to ask you for anything,” Dimas said, his voice quieter now.
“But I believe you can do this.”
I closed my eyes for a moment. The universe really did know exactly how to torture me.
“Tomorrow,” I said without turning around. “I’ll let you know tomorrow.”
I walked away, leaving Dimas standing in the lobby with the same look in his eyes he’d had four years ago.