Talia arrived fifteen minutes before seven. The JK building looked different when she entered as an employee—bigger, more serious, as if the walls knew she belonged there now and were deciding whether they agreed.
She passed the front desk with her new badge hanging around her neck. It weighed almost nothing, but she felt as if she were carrying a medal. She quickened her pace toward the elevator.
The doors were closing when a large male hand caught the steel. The fingers were long and steady, holding the door with the ease of someone used to making the world wait.
Talia stepped inside and looked up.
It was him.
The man from the park. The man from the revolving door. Wearing a dark suit, just like last time, his face impassive, his eyes fixed on the elevator panel as if she didn't exist.
“Good morning,” Talia said.
He nodded. A minimal movement, almost imperceptible. He didn't look at her. He didn't open his mouth.
The elevator rose in silence. Talia watched the numbers change on the display, far too aware of his presence beside her—the discreet cologne, his calm breathing, the way he occupied the space without making any effort. When the doors opened on the finance department floor, Talia stepped forward and almost ran into someone.
“Good morning! You must be Talia!”
The woman had brown hair pulled into a hurried bun, big eyes, and a smile that seemed too large for her face. Her badge read, “Sofia—Administrative Assistant, Finance Department.”
Sofia opened her mouth to continue, but then her eyes passed over Talia's shoulder and widened.
“Good morning, sir,” Sofia said, her voice rising half a note.
Talia looked back. The man stepped out of the elevator, passed them without stopping, and continued down the hallway in the opposite direction. He didn't even look at them. Didn't even wave. He disappeared around the corner as if the two of them were part of the décor.
Sofia grabbed Talia's arm and tugged her along.
“Girl,” she whispered, her eyes still wide. “You rode the same elevator as him?”
“Him who?”
Sofia looked at her as if Talia had asked what oxygen was.
“Jash. The owner of the company.”
Talia felt the texture of the floor change beneath her feet. Not literally, but that's how it felt. The man from the park. The man from the revolving door. The man who never answered a good morning. He was the owner of JK.
“He's…the owner?”
“Founder, owner, CEO, everything.” Sofia spoke quickly, pulling Talia down the hallway. “No one rides the elevator with him. I mean, no one has the nerve. And you walked in like it was the most normal thing in the world.”
“I didn't know who he was.”
“Lucky you. If you'd known, you'd have frozen.”
Sofia showed her around the floor, pointing out the break room, the bathroom, the conference room, and finally the desk that would be hers. It was near the window, with a view of the neighboring building—not exactly inspiring, but at least it got some light.
“If you need anything, call me,” Sofia said, squeezing her shoulder. “We look out for each other here.”
Talia sat down, turned on the computer, and watched the screen load. The owner of the company. That cold, silent man who looked through people as if he were searching for something he'd never found. He had founded all of this.
The morning passed quickly. Talia immersed herself in the systems, the reports, the spreadsheets that seemed to multiply every time she closed one. When she looked up, it was already noon.
“Lunch?” Sofia appeared in the doorway with her purse over her shoulder.
The cafeteria was on the second floor, spacious and noisy. Sofia chose a table in the corner and, before Talia had even opened her lunch container, started talking.
“So, do you want to hear his story?”
“Whose?”
Sofia rolled her eyes.
“Jash's, you goof. I saw your face when I said he was the owner. You went white.”
Talia opened her lunch container and pretended to be very interested in her rice.
“I was just surprised.”
“Sure.” Sofia smiled, the kind of smile that said, I don't believe you, but I'm going to tell you anyway. “He founded JK in his early twenties. No one really knows how he raised the initial capital, but the company grew ridiculously fast. Like, from a small office to this building in less than ten years.”
“Impressive.”
“And the craziest part”—Sofia leaned forward, lowering her voice—“is that he was a bully back in school. He didn't like studying and was always getting into trouble. At least, that's what people say.”
Talia stopped chewing.
The word “bully” entered her like a fine needle, the kind you barely feel pierce you but that stings afterward. Bully. Back in school. The images came without asking—the long hallway, the laughter echoing through it, the three boys who followed her after class. “Beanpole.” “Four-Eyes.” “Metal Mouth.” She'd been too tall, too thin, wore braces and thick glasses, and that had been enough. Enough to make her a target.
“Talia?”
She blinked.
“That’s awful,” she said, her voice coming out lower than she'd intended.
“Yeah, right? But look, he changed. I mean, I think he changed. He barely talks to anyone, so it's hard to know what's going on in his head. But he built all this.” Sofia spread her arms, indicating the entire building. “There has to be something good in there.”
Talia nodded slowly, but she wasn't listening anymore. She was trapped in that school hallway, feeling the weight of the books in her backpack and the heavier weight of the words she'd carried for years. She'd reinvented herself. Changed her hair, gotten her braces removed, traded her glasses for contacts, learned to walk with her head held high. But scars don't disappear with a new look. They only learn to stay quiet.
And now she was sitting in the cafeteria of a company founded by a man who, back in school, had been exactly the kind of person who made people like her cry in the bathroom.
“Hey.” Sofia touched her hand. “Are you okay?”
Talia smiled. The smile she'd learned to give when she didn't want anyone asking more questions.
“I'm fine. Just thinking.”
“Think less, eat more.” Sofia pushed a dessert container toward her. “Passion-fruit mousse. Cures anything.”
Talia laughed. A small laugh, but a genuine one.
The rest of the day passed without incident. Talia went back to her desk, worked until six, and when she left the building, the cold night air struck her face like a reminder that winter hadn't gone away.
On the way home, in the back seat of the taxi, she looked out the window and thought about three boys laughing in a hallway. Thought about a tall man who never said good morning. Thought about the scars that stayed quiet until someone, without meaning to, ran a finger over them.
Spike greeted her at the door with the same celebration as always. Talia crouched down, let him lick her face, and whispered:
“You knew, didn't you? That day in the park. You ran straight to him.”
Spike wagged his tail.
“Crazy dog.”
She stood, took off her shoes, and went to the window. The city glittered below, cold and beautiful.
Jash. His name was Jash. And he was the owner of everything.