She got out of the car and strided to the door. A servant opened it at the first ring of the door bell. They were made aware of the miss' return and so were very vigilant.
"Good morning, miss. The master is waiting for you in his study."
Tara smiled, "Good morning, Trish. What, you want to send me to the lion's den right after coming? It's been so long, where is my welcome gift?"
The old lady smiled fondly, "I am baking your favourite cookies. They are in the oven, you can have them after finishing your business with the master."
"Aha, now I have to be fast," she walked towards the staircase in a hurry but turned back before climbing the stairs, "I'll be in a few minutes." and climbed the stairs two at a time.
Trish laughed at her zeal and went back to the kitchen while shaking her head.
Tara walked the tiled floor with nervous steps. It had been a while since she spoke to him alone like this. The thought of it made her stomach churn and her legs wobble.
She could see the huge pair of doors that lead to his study. The doors were works of art. The golden inscriptions made it look like the ancient study of an emperor, 'More like ancient tomb of an emperor,' a voice in Tara's mind said. Her agitation couldn't suppress the annoyance and vexation she held for the man. Annoyance over how he made her feel, vexation over how she knew he didn't feel anything.
She gulped her mixed emotions down and knocked on the door.
"Come in." the gruff voice of Master Donovan came from the other side of the door.
"Good morning, boss." Tara tried desperately to keep her tone professional though she felt like she was flunking at that.
"Tara, good morning." Ryland was tired. He had been working without any break for the whole night but still he was ready to meet Tara. Saying that Tara's arrival at his doorsteps was shocking would be no exaggeration. After all she had broken all ties with him without breaking them, told everyone she didn't need him without saying it.
And so he couldn't stop himself from asking, "Why the sudden visit? I thought you were happy leaving your home."
"I have been trying to reach you but your assistant said you are very busy these days and have many meetings lined up." Tara said avoiding meeting his eyes along with the remark about leaving home.
He shrugged, gesturing to the files and papers scattered around his desk, crumpled balls of paper throw carelessly on the floor around his desk. "Well, I am busy," he said trying to show as less interest as he could. "So what do you want to say? Be fast." Ryland thought they could finally talk like before when they didn't have this line of profession drawn between them. He didn't know before that he had built a glass-palace with his dreams and Tara was breaking it one piece at a time with her cold words and formal treatment.
Her heart clenched at his coldness but she didn't let it show, "I'm resigning."
Ryland looked up from his papers abruptly. "I think I heard wrong. Say it again." he was sure a sleepless night was playing tricks with his mind. She couldn't have just said what he thought she said. She definitely wouldn't, would she?
"I am resigning. I came to get your approval to the resignation letter," she repeated herself while walking forward to place her letter on the desk and added, "And Liliana doesn't want to renew her contract."
Ryland clenched his jaw, his hands holding the desk in a death grip, "So you are leaving the company with one of my best artists?" but his voice was calm as still water or more like calm before the storm. Anger rolled in him like a violent thunderstorm, ready to lash out any moment.
"I got an offer I want to accept. Lilia said she wants to keep working with me."
Ryland nodded a few times and said, "Hmm, a nice enough excuse. You came up with this one as well, I believe." It didn't seem like he doubted his assumption.
"It's not an excuse, it's the truth. Besides, what do mean by as well? What other excuses, according to you, have I made?" Tara voice grew louder. This is what happened when they spoke to each other, it became a confrontation.
"At first you said something similar and left our home and now you want to leave the company too. Now that dad isn't alive anymore you want to end all the ties you created because of him. Is this your sincerity to him? Is this how you repay his kindness, by forgetting about him? " her self-righteous tone flared the anger suppressed in him and his voice rose a notch as well.
"This was never a home to me. You made it pretty clear after uncle died. So don't blame me for everything when it was your fault and act all good and innocent!" Tara was screaming now, her eyes red and watery.
Ryland slammed his hands on the desk and stood up. "Who said that they don't want to live here anymore! Who said working from home is inconvenient! You rejected this family after dad died. You raised the wall between us, Tara. It was all you." his voice had died down by the end like he was too tired to continue this screaming match.
'That family was a facade. It was your benevolence on the name of your father,' she thought. Her bit her lips to stop them from trembling.
She turned her face away and said in a hushed tone, "There's no point in saying all this. Please approve the letter. I have work to do."
"Fine, do whatever the hell you want to do. I won't stop you," he gritted out. His eyes followed her figure, scurrying away from the room.
He picked the decorative lamp behind the desk and smashed it on the wall. The shattering of glass brought his dazed mind back to senses.
He wanted to run after her and he wanted to confess how he felt even after knowing that the answer would be rejection.
'You will always look after her as your own sister. Never make her feel like she does not have a family'- those were his father's last words. And Ryland's reason for stopping himself from indulging in the love he has been nurturing since the day he first met her. Now that girl was running away from him and he didn't have a good enough reason to stop her.
'I don't know where this life will take us Tara but I still have hope,' Ryland thought. His eyes were glazed and a single tear trickled down his cheek.