Chapter 55: I Should Stop Trying…

I step out of the car, the morning sun glinting off the monolithic glass and steel of Kael Holdings.

The building shines, a monument of cold, perfect success—the fruit of Zyren Kael’s day-and-night, soul-consuming hard work. The country’s number one.

I shrug my coat into place, a familiar, heavy weight.

The guard bows, murmurs a greeting, and sweeps the towering glass door open. I step through, my posture instinctively straightening, a polished, public smile already fixed on my lips.

Deniz is there, a constant, calming presence in the lobby’s controlled chaos. He walks toward me, his steps measured.

“Good morning, sir.”

My gaze travels over him, the automatic smile faltering for a fraction of a second. “Good morning.” My eyes linger. His face looks… tired. The usual sharp, professional clarity is softened by shadows under his eyes, a subtle tension in his jaw.

Is he alright?

He blinks, catching my extended stare, a flicker of confusion crossing his features.

I rebuild my smile, brightening it deliberately. “You look tired. Are you okay?”

He adjusts his glasses, a small, shielding gesture.

“I’m fine. Thank you for your concern.”

The answer is smooth, practiced, and tells me nothing.

I let it go with a nod and continue walking, my shoes clicking a precise rhythm on the obscenely expensive polished marble. Staff members bow as I pass, a wave of murmured greetings.

I keep the soft, congenial smile on my face—the heir in a good mood. And it’s true.

I am in a good mood. The memory of this morning is a warm ember in my chest: sharing breakfast with Angel, seeing his real, unguarded smile—so soft, so rare.

A private victory.

I stop at the bank of elevators. Deniz is instantly beside me, reaching forward to press the call button. I glance at him again.

The tiredness is more pronounced up close. Did he not sleep? Should I push? The question hangs, unresolved.

With a soft chime, the elevator doors slide open. I step into the sterile, mirrored box. Deniz follows, settling into the space with a careful, exact distance between us.

I slip my hands into my pockets, leaning back slightly.

Deniz presses the button for the executive floor, then takes his place beside me, gaze fixed ahead.

I don’t speak. He doesn’t either.

The silence in the ascending elevator is profound. It’s not comfortable or companionable.

It’s heavy.

Thick with his unspoken fatigue and my unasked questions. It’s the kind of silence that hums with everything left unsaid.

The numbers slowly tick upward. 10… 15… 20…

Silence—

I hate it.

I lean back in the massive executive chair, the leather groaning softly. My thoughts aren’t on quarterly reports or merger proposals.

They’re stuck in the elevator, on the careful distance and the heavy silence.

What’s wrong with Deniz?

He looked pale. Tired in a way that went beyond a late night. His eyes held a quiet sadness he was trying desperately to mask.

But how do I ask? How do I bridge the gap he seems to be deliberately widening?

My fingers tap a restless rhythm against each other. I stare at the pristine white ceiling. Maybe he’s worried about his crush. His lover…?

His… boyfriend?

The thought is a cold splash. I take a deep, steadying breath.

How is that possible?

Deniz is always buried in work. He doesn’t have time for a personal life.

Another, more insidious voice whispers: Or maybe he makes time for someone special. Someone you know nothing about.

Ahhh…..

I drag a hand down my face. Neon, you’re such an overthinker. Just focus on the work.

Zyren bled to make this empire, and you’re sitting here daydreaming about your assistant’s love life. You’re going to doom this company with your laziness.

You lazy patatto….

I force myself to straighten up. I grab the top file from the daunting pile and wrench it open, forcing my eyes to scan the numbers, the terms, the legalese. I will myself to drown in the work.

A knock at the door.

“Come in,” I say without looking up.

Deniz enters, a picture of composed efficiency. He sets a cup of coffee on my desk with his usual, silent precision.

“Sir, your coffee.”

I look up. The professional mask is flawless, but it can’t hide the faint shadows, the slight tightness around his mouth. I stare at him, the file forgotten.

“Deniz,” I say, my voice dropping its CEO edge, becoming softer.

“Is everything okay?”

He hesitates. Looks down. Adjusts his glasses—that telltale nervous tic.

“Yes, sir. Everything is fine.”

He’s lying.

lie. Again.

The certainty is a stone in my gut. I look back down at the file, the words blurring. If he doesn’t want to tell me, I won’t force him. I switch back to full professional mode, my voice cool and detached.

“Tell me my schedule for today.”

He consults his tablet, his voice regaining its smooth, impersonal flow. “You have a board strategy meeting at 4 PM, followed by a business dinner with Mr. Byke at 8.”

I nod, not looking up. “And Moon Arden?”

“Tomorrow, Friday. Mr. Arden has a photoshoot. The location and precise timing have been emailed to you.”

“Okay,” I say, my tone dry, final. “You can go.”

But he doesn’t move. He hesitates, a palpable tension radiating from him. “Sir…”

I slowly close the file and look up, meeting his eyes. “Yes.., Deniz?”

His gaze falls to the floor again. There’s a heavy hesitation in his voice, something that sounds like… shame?

“I… would like to request some days off. I’ve already submitted the formal application to HR.”

I stare at him. Days off. Not just an afternoon. Days.

For what?

A trip?

An emergency?

To be with… someone?

The silence in the room stretches, thick and suffocating. I finally break it, my voice flat.

“Fine. Approved. You can go.”

He gives a short, tight nod and turns for the door. My eyes follow him, pinned to his retreating back until the door closes with a soft, definitive click.

The silence left behind is louder than before. It’s a canyon.

Why?

Why doesn’t he trust me enough to tell me?

The thought lands like a sharp ache in my chest. I thought we had built… something. A fragile understanding. A quiet bond. A trust that went beyond titles—beyond employer and employee.

I was wrong.

The realization settles over me, cold and unmistakably clear.

Today, I realize something clearly:

I don’t have the right to step into his life uninvited.

And maybe… I should stop trying.

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