Janet returned home, the soft glow of the late afternoon sun spilling through her apartment windows. She kicked off her shoes and sank into the couch, her thoughts still swirling with the events of the day. The encounter with Mike and Emily lingered in her mind, the vision she had seen replaying like a reel she couldn't turn off. Emily's affection, Mike's polite indifference—it all felt so inevitable.
She picked up her phone, intending to scroll aimlessly and distract herself, when a notification popped up. A message from Mike.
Hey Janet, quick question: What do you think I should wear tomorrow? We've got a big meeting with the new CEO, and I want to make a good impression.
Janet stared at the message, her thumb hovering over the screen. The casual tone, the way he'd reached out to her for something so simple, yet oddly personal—it caught her off guard. Before she could reply, her mind betrayed her, conjuring an image so vivid it stopped her breath.She was back in that dimly lit room from their first night together, the air warm and heavy with quiet intimacy. Mike was leaning against the bedframe, a hint of a grin playing on his lips, the soft glow of a bedside lamp catching the deep navy sheen of his silk shirt. That shirt—smooth, tailored, perfectly fitted—it had clung to him in a way that made him look both powerful and effortlessly relaxed.
Janet's cheeks flushed as she shook the memory away, her heart pounding. That night felt like a lifetime ago, yet the image of him in that navy shirt was as clear as if it had happened yesterday. She closed her eyes, willing herself to focus, but the memory persisted, tugging at emotions she had no intention of unpacking.
Taking a deep breath, she typed her reply, careful to keep her tone neutral.
I'd go with something classic. Navy works well for you—it's confident without being flashy. Maybe a silk shirt or something similar.
She hit send before she could second-guess herself. Almost immediately, the typing bubble appeared on the screen.
Thanks. I'll take your word for it. You've got good taste.
Janet smirked faintly, shaking her head. Of course, he trusted her judgment. But she couldn't ignore the knot forming in her chest. Why had he asked her, of all people? Surely he had colleagues, assistants—anyone else to consult about a simple outfit for a meeting.
Yet, he had chosen to message her.
Her phone buzzed again.
By the way, thanks for stopping by today. Emily's nice, but… she's not really my type. She's too… agreeable. You know what I mean?
Janet stared at the message, her breath catching. He had read Emily the same way she had—seen the way she tailored herself to his preferences, the quiet desperation behind her charm. But Janet also saw something else in his message. He wasn't just sharing a thought; he was reaching out to her, seeking a connection, as if testing the waters of their own fragile bond.
She hesitated before replying.
I understand. Sometimes it's hard to connect with someone who doesn't challenge you.
His response came quickly.
Exactly. It's like you're reading my mind.
Janet smiled faintly, though the warmth of his words left her unsettled. Mike's presence in her life, his casual familiarity, the way he seemed to trust her instincts—it all felt too significant to ignore. She set the phone down, staring at the ceiling, her thoughts swirling.
The monk's voice from the previous night echoed in her mind: "Be prepared to meet what is unfamiliar and to trust what you cannot yet see."
Janet sighed, running a hand through her hair. Trusting what she couldn't see was easier said than done. But one thing was clear—Mike wasn't just another fleeting connection. Whatever their paths held, she was beginning to realize she couldn't outrun this one.
Janet sat on her couch, staring at her phone, her mind swirling not just with Mike's messages but also with the lingering presence of the monk's voice. The calm, unshakable tone had been with her for days now, weaving its way into her thoughts and pushing her toward actions she wouldn't have otherwise taken. Why was he there? What did he want? And why her?
She set her phone down and leaned back, closing her eyes. Her breathing slowed as she focused inward, just as she had done during her meditations. She needed to understand. She needed answers.
"Who are you?" she whispered aloud, her voice soft in the stillness of her apartment. "Why are you in my head? Why now?"
The room seemed to grow quieter, the hum of the refrigerator and the distant sounds of the city fading into the background. And then, faintly, she heard it. The monk's voice, steady and measured, as if he were sitting right beside her.
"You already know who I am."
Janet's eyes flew open, her heart pounding. "No, I don't," she said aloud, her voice tinged with frustration. "You just show up in my mind, telling me what to do. Why? What do you want from me?"