Isis had just completed the finishing touches on her latest design when her phone alarm rang. She quickly picked it up and checked the time—it was past four in the evening.
"How long have I been working?" she muttered with a sigh, placing the phone back on her desk. Stretching her arms with a tired yawn, she glanced at the dress design she had been working on. It was a wedding dress, its intricate details shining through the paper. A satisfied smile spread across her face. "This looks pretty nice," she said to herself, pride evident in her tone.
Just then, a knock came at the door. "Come in," she called as she stood up. It seemed as though she already knew who it would be. The door swung open, Melanie her assistant walked in.
"Still working, are you?" Melanie teased, leaning casually on the table.
Isis smiled back. "I just finished a few minutes ago," she replied, walking over to the coat rack. She grabbed her coat, a light but warm piece perfect for the cool evening air.
Melanie reached out to pick up Isis's sketchbook, her fingers just brushing the edge when her voice rang out sharply. "Don't touch that!" Isis called, rushing over to snatch the book from the table.
"You know how I feel about this," Isis said firmly, holding the sketchbook close to her chest. "The designs aren't meant to be seen until they're finished."
Melanie gave her a mischievous smile. "At least let me take a tiny peek," she teased.
Isis shook her head and smiled, sliding the sketchbook securely into her handbag. "No, you don't," she replied playfully, yet her tone left no room for argument. she picked up her car keys from the table and slipped them into her handbag alongside the sketchbook.
"Lock up the door and windows when you're done," she said, adjusting the coat on her shoulders. "I have somewhere important to be."
Melanie folded her arms and tilted her head, a skeptical smirk on her face. "Let me guess—you're off to see that nut job again?"
Isis paused at the door and turned back, her expression softening into an amused smile. "Barry isn't a nut job, Mel. He just has his moments. Besides, I'm planning a surprise."
Melanie raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "What kind of surprise?"
"It's a secret," Isis replied, her smile widening into a mysterious grin.
Without saying more, she opened the door, letting in a soft gust of evening air. As she stepped out, she glanced back over her shoulder. "Don't forget the windows," she reminded gently, then closed the door behind her.
Melanie stood still for a moment, staring at the closed door, Shaking her head with a smile, she muttered to herself, "She's always full of surprises."
Turning her attention to the studio, Melanie moved to the window. The room was bathed in the warm light of the setting sun, which painted the walls in shades of gold and orange. Sketches, pinned to a corkboard above the desk, fluttered slightly in the evening breeze. The scent of paper and faint traces of perfume lingered in the air, giving the room a serene and personal atmosphere.
Melanie carefully shut the window, twisting the latch to ensure it was secure. She looked around the room one last time, checking for anything out of place. The sewing machine sat quietly in the corner, threads neatly coiled. Rolls of fabric stood stacked beside the desk, their colors blending harmoniously like a painter's palette.
As she moved to the door, she couldn't help but wonder about Isis's plans. With a small laugh, she locked the studio and stepped out.
Isis hurried out of the elevator into the dimly lit underground parking lot, her heels clicking against the concrete floor. She glanced at her watch, frustration etched across her face. She was running late, and time wasn't on her side. Walking briskly toward her car, she suddenly remembered her car keys were inside her handbag. Without slowing down, she swung her bag forward and started rummaging through it, her movements frantic and impatient.
As she focused on her search, she didn't notice someone walking directly toward her. In her haste, she bumped hard into the person, the impact knocking her bag out of her hand. Its contents scattered across the ground, papers fluttering, makeup items rolling away, and her sketchbook falling open. She winced and held her forehead where their heads had collided.
"Are you blind or what?! Can't you see?" she snapped angrily, her voice echoing in the quiet parking lot. She looked up, her hand still on her head, and froze for a moment.
Standing before her was a tall, well-built man. He had a striking presence, his sharp features complemented by perfectly styled dark hair. The scent of his cologne, strong yet refined, hung in the air around him. It was the kind of fragrance that could turn heads. However, despite his looks, Isis refused to be fazed, her irritation keeping her firmly grounded.
"I'm so sorry," the man said, his deep voice calm and polite. He even offered her a smile, but she was in no mood for pleasantries.
"Is that all?" she shot back. "What makes you think an apology will suffice, huh?"
The man didn't reply immediately. Instead, he bent down and began picking up her scattered belongings. He picked up her sketchbook, which had fallen open, revealing the design she had just finished working on . He carefully dusted it off along with the other items, including her handbag, before straightening up.
"Give me that!" Isis said sharply, snatching the sketchbook from his hands. She glanced at it and frowned. "See what you've done! You almost ruined it," she added, brushing away non-existent dust from its pages.
The man offered her the rest of her things, still calm. "I'm really sorry," he said again, his smile still lingering.
she grabbed her handbag and belongings without a word of thanks. She looked him up and down with disdain before hissing, "Blind bat."
At that, the man's expression changed. The warmth in his smile disappeared, replaced by a cold, stern look. He slipped his hands into his pockets and took a step back. "What the hell is wrong with you?" he asked, his voice firmer now.
"Huh?" She exclaimed, caught off guard by his sudden change in demeanor.
"Maybe if you had been paying attention while walking, none of this would've happened," he said, his tone sharp. "But no, here you are blaming me for your mistake."
"What?!" Isis said, her eyes widening in disbelief.
"Listen here, young lady," the man continued. "You don't go around insulting people just because you're having a bad day. The only reason I apologized was because I'm a gentleman. But clearly, you're not satisfied. You know what? I take back my apology. You're not even worth my time."
With that, he brushed past her, his shoulder lightly grazing hers, and walked toward the elevator. He didn't look back, his strides confident and manly. Isis stood there, stunned.
"What the hell just happened?" she muttered to herself, still in shock. She pinched her arm, wondering if it was all a strange dream. But the slight sting confirmed it was real. A man—a stranger—had just lectured her, and worse, it was in her own company's parking lot.
Her instinct was to march back and give him a piece of her mind. But then she remembered Barry and the important meeting she couldn't afford to miss. Letting out a frustrated sigh, she turned and made her way to her car. The sleek black sedan gleamed under the faint fluorescent lights of the parking lot.
Sliding into the driver's seat, she leaned back and took a deep breath, her hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. "He isn't even worth my time," she muttered with a smirk, though her mind kept replaying the encounter. Shaking her head, she started the engine, the soft purr of the car breaking the silence around her. Without another glance back, she drove off, determined to put the incident out of her mind.