“Amanda Hussein.”
Amanda lifted her head at the sound of her name.
“So, Miss Amanda, what would you say makes you stand out from the other candidates? What do you have to offer that would make us choose you over everyone else?”
The HR representative leaned back in his chair, watching her with an expression that suggested he had asked this question a thousand times before. His fingers rested against the edge of the file on his desk as he waited for her answer.
Amanda stepped forward with measured confidence, stopping in front of him. She had already decided that she wanted this job, and she intended to get it.
“Well, sir, I believe a quick look at my résumé will tell you everything you need to know about how well my qualifications match the requirements of the position.”
She kept her tone professional, offering him a polite smile. After all, she was here for a job interview, not a debate. At least, that had been the plan when she'd walked into the building that morning.
The man returned her smile as his eyes skimmed over the information in the file before him.
“A commerce graduate with honors and a perfect academic record throughout your university years. Fluent in three languages, two years of experience in business and accounting, and a wide range of computer skills...”
He paused briefly, glancing up at her before returning his attention to the résumé.
“I have to say, these are impressive qualifications. You're certainly a strong fit for the position.”
Amanda nodded confidently, a polite smile settling on her lips. It took a considerable amount of self-control not to let her satisfaction show too plainly.
“Exactly.”
The man shifted slightly in his chair.
“However, don't you think your current attire might be a bit... unsuitable for a position here?”
Amanda's smile remained in place, though it grew considerably more difficult to maintain.
“We're a very large, well-established company,” he continued, as if that alone explained everything. “And frankly, we prefer our employees to maintain a certain image.”
For a moment, Amanda simply stared at him.
Then she let out a quiet sigh and rolled her eyes.
If only she could pluck the man's audacious little eyes right out of their sockets.
Instead, she allowed her gaze to drift toward the small name tag pinned to his shirt. She read it carefully before looking back at him.
“Mr. Jorden.”
He raised his eyebrows slightly, perhaps expecting her to ask for clarification or offer some kind of apology.
Neither was forthcoming.
“Your job advertisement never mentioned a dress code,” she began, her voice still calm, although the irritation beneath it was becoming increasingly difficult to conceal.
“I'm applying for a position in financial management, not a modeling agency. I would assume the distinction is rather obvious.”
She paused, giving him a moment to consider that.
“Besides, you've managed to dismiss nearly all my actual qualifications without even asking a single relevant question. You haven't asked where I gained my experience, what specific fields I worked in, or even the extent of my responsibilities.”
Her eyes remained fixed on his face.
“So, if you don't mind my asking, what exactly are we basing this assessment on?”
For the first time since the interview had begun, Mr. Jorden appeared to have run out of things to say.
He offered an uneasy smile, clearly unsettled by her sharp tone and unwavering stare. His fingers shifted restlessly against the desk before he reached for a tissue and dabbed at the sweat gathering on his face.
Amanda watched him in silence.
Apparently, the great Mr. Jorden hadn't anticipated that a candidate might actually challenge him.
“Of course, ma'am,” he finally replied, his voice noticeably less confident than before. “We'll be in touch if an opportunity comes up.”
Amanda rose from her seat, irritation written all over her face.
She fixed him with a look so sharp it might have made breathing uncomfortable.
“I'm sure you will.”
She picked up her bag and headed for the door without waiting for another word.
By the time she stepped into the hallway, she already knew she had absolutely no chance of getting the job.
Not that she had expected much after the way the interview had unfolded.
Still, knowing something and having it confirmed to your face were two entirely different matters.
She'd suspected as much the moment she'd noticed the curious looks some of the female employees had been giving her, all because she wore a hijab.
Their glances had been brief, but not nearly brief enough to escape her notice. Some had looked her up and down before whispering to one another, while others had simply stared as though she'd walked into the building wearing something completely outlandish.
She couldn't believe people with such narrow minds still lived on the same planet as her, in the same century, no less.
With a frustrated breath, she made her way to the restroom.
She stopped in front of the mirror and began straightening her clothes, adjusting her hijab with a few careful movements. It wasn't even particularly conservative by most standards.
And to think that sometimes she felt guilty for not dressing more modestly, for not always adhering to every religious guideline, for wearing makeup whenever she felt like it.
She studied her reflection for a moment, her expression growing thoughtful despite herself.
Now she was stuck somewhere in the middle.
The idiots outside saw her as inferior to them, while deep down, she couldn't help feeling that, when it came to religious commitment, she fell short of the standards of girls who were genuinely devoted.
It was an uncomfortable place to be, caught between people who judged her for what she wore and the standards she sometimes struggled to meet herself.
She looked away from the mirror.
The last thing she needed was to spend the rest of her day thinking about people who weren't worth the effort.
She pulled out her phone, eager to switch it off before her entire family started calling to ask about the interview.
She could already imagine the questions.
How did it go? Did they like you? When will you hear back?
No, thank you.
She didn't feel like discussing this ridiculous ordeal with anyone. She wanted to go home, settle into her new apartment, and pretend the last hour of her life had never happened.
But the moment a familiar name lit up the center of her screen, she found herself answering without a second thought.
“So, what happened?” came the voice on the other end.
Amanda barely had time to say hello before he continued.
“Please tell me they decided not to hire you. I'd love to hear that.”
Amanda broke into a wide grin.
“And here I was wondering why today felt so cursed. Now I know. You've been sending bad vibes my way all day.”
She leaned against the counter, her earlier irritation momentarily forgotten.
“For God's sake, go find something better to do with your evil eye.”
“What the hell would I be jealous of, you little freeloader?”
His reply came so quickly that Amanda could practically picture the expression on his face.
“You're lucky to have a brother like me in your life. And every year, I practically throw money at you just so you can survive, you ungrateful beggar.”
Amanda's eyes widened in disbelief.
“Who's the beggar, you absolute animal?”
Her voice rose with every word.
“You, your brother, and your fiancée are practically living off my generosity! Where would you be now if I hadn't taken pity on you and handed you the money to start your business?”
She straightened, as though he were standing right in front of her and she needed to make absolutely certain he understood every syllable.
“I told myself, ‘Oh, well. He's young, he's just starting out. Let me give the poor guy a hand.’ And this is the thanks I get?”
“Did you give me that money out of the goodness of your heart, sweetheart?”
His tone was infuriatingly amused.
“Or did you conveniently walk away with forty percent of the company? At this rate, you'll end up owning everything I have. I know exactly how your mind works.”
Amanda burst out laughing despite herself.
There was something undeniably entertaining about his shameless comebacks and that sarcastic tone of his. No matter how serious he tried to sound, he never managed to keep the act up for long when he was talking to her.
One moment, he was the CEO of a respectable architectural firm; the next, he sounded like a middle-aged woman arguing with her neighbors over the garden fence.
And somehow, he always managed to drag her down to his level.
“What?” she demanded, still laughing. “You don't want me to get what's mine?”
She shook her head in mock disbelief.
“Are we already planning to eat into each other's inheritance? You can't even wait until you have kids to start fighting over their share. You're getting a head start, huh?”
For a few seconds, the line fell silent.
Amanda waited, half expecting another ridiculous insult to come flying her way.
He didn't respond immediately, either pretending he hadn't heard her or waiting for her to finish her little speech. Then he let out a long sigh.
When he finally spoke again, his voice had taken on an almost wise, conspiratorial tone.
“Look, sweetheart, forget about fighting over money. Come and keep an eye on your own assets. Work with us like a normal person.”
He paused, as if giving her a chance to appreciate the generosity of his proposal.
“You idiot, I'm looking out for you. One day, I might wake up and decide to take over everything using those power-of-attorney documents you signed over to me.”
His tone grew more pointed.
“Use that brain of yours for once.”
Amanda rolled her eyes, though the gesture was entirely wasted on someone who couldn't see her.
“That's your business, and you've worked hard for it. I honestly don't know the first thing about architecture.”
She shifted her bag higher on her shoulder.
“Financial management is my field, and you and Mazen already handle that department. I'd just be an extra body in the office.”
She glanced toward the restroom door, suddenly remembering that she still had to leave the building and figure out what she was going to do with the rest of her day.
“Besides, I've barely settled into my new apartment, and I'm finally starting to feel comfortable there. If they'd hired me here, I'd have been working practically next door to my place.”
A small, wistful smile appeared on her face.
“Everything would've worked out perfectly, if it weren't for that sheep-brained idiot who interviewed me.”
Her brother sighed again.
This time, the sound was accompanied by the faint background noise of an office: distant voices, the shuffle of papers, and someone calling out what sounded like his name.
He was clearly running out of time. Something urgent had come up at work, and he needed to deal with it himself.
“We'll continue this conversation tonight.”
Amanda opened her mouth to respond, but the call ended before she could get another word in.
She stared at her screen.
“Unbelievable,” she muttered.
Still, the conversation had done what it always did. No matter how irritating he could be, talking to him had managed to pull her out of her own head for a little while.
She slipped her phone away and gave herself one last glance in the mirror, making sure everything was in place before heading out.
A moment later, she strode back into the hallway, her expression carefully blank.
She glanced down at her phone with a grimace and began sending brief replies to the family members and friends who had asked about the interview.
It didn't go well.
I'll tell you later.
No, I haven't heard back from them.
One message after another, each shorter than the last.
As if the whole thing had been some monumental event!
She was just about to switch off her phone and shut down any further discussion when her mother's name appeared at the top of the screen.
Amanda stopped walking.
That ringtone.
She was beginning to hate it.
For a few seconds, she simply stared at the incoming call, her thumb hovering over the answer button. She knew she couldn't ignore her mother forever, but she wasn't quite ready to have that conversation yet.
She drew a breath and finally moved to answer.
Except she never got the chance.
The phone slipped from her hand and hit the floor with a sharp crack.
Amanda stumbled forward at the same moment, having collided with something—or rather, someone.
Someone broad, solid, and decidedly in the way.
She looked up.
A wall, she thought irritably.
A very solid wall of a man.
A wall that, as it turned out, had a rather handsome face.
For a brief, inconvenient second, she forgot about her phone.
Then reality caught up with her.
“Oh, my God! I'm so, so sorry! I genuinely didn't see you. I wasn't paying attention, and—”
“Do you work here?”
The question cut straight through her hurried apology.
Amanda stopped mid-sentence.
She blinked at him, momentarily thrown by the unexpected question, before bending down to retrieve her phone.
“No. I was here for an interview.”
She glanced up at him once more, waiting for him to say something else.
He didn't.
Instead, his gaze remained fixed on her with an intensity that made her vaguely uncomfortable, though she couldn't have explained why.
Amanda promptly decided she had more pressing matters to attend to.
Her attention returned to the phone in her hand. She gently wiped the screen with her sleeve, inspecting the fresh damage with an expression of unmistakable dismay.
“Oh, you've got to be kidding me.”
The words escaped under her breath as she tilted the device from one side to the other, hoping the damage wasn't as bad as it looked.
It was.
Of course it was.
Because apparently, the universe had decided that one disastrous interview wasn't enough for a single day.
She was so preoccupied with her wounded device that she completely ignored the man standing in front of her, watching her with unsettling focus.
“Sorry again,” she muttered without bothering to look up.
Then she tucked her phone away, adjusted her bag, and turned to leave.
She had absolutely no intention of sticking around for another disaster.
All she wanted was to get out of the building, go home, and put this entire miserable day behind her.
“Wait.”
The young man called after her, quickening his pace as he tried to catch up.
Amanda didn't hear him.
Or perhaps she did and simply decided that whatever he wanted could wait until another lifetime.
Either way, by the time he reached the spot where she'd been standing, she was already gone.
He stopped, looking around with a faint frown.
For a moment, he remained where he was, his gaze moving from one side of the entrance to the other.
Nothing.
He hurried toward the main entrance, searching the area outside the building, but there was no sign of her.
Not even a glimpse of the woman who had collided with him, apologized in a breathless rush, and disappeared before he'd managed to get another word out.
It was as though she'd vanished into thin air.
“Adrian.”
A woman's voice called out to him.
He turned to find Cindy approaching with a warm smile and a composed expression. She looked entirely unbothered by the fact that she'd apparently spent the last several minutes searching for him.
“I can't believe you forgot about our meeting so quickly.”
She stopped beside him, tilting her head slightly.
“Mom and Dad are upstairs with your dad, and they sent me to look for you.”
Adrian barely seemed to hear her.
His attention had already returned to the road beyond the company entrance, his eyes scanning the passing people and cars as though the woman he was looking for might suddenly reappear.
Cindy followed his gaze, then looked back at him.
“Adrian?”
He finally turned toward her, though his expression suggested that his mind was still somewhere else entirely.
“Of course,” he replied absently. “I'll be right there, Cindy. I'll catch up with you in a minute.”
Cindy smiled awkwardly and nodded.
“Fine. Just don't make them wait too long.”
She lingered for another moment, her gaze drifting discreetly toward the direction of his attention.
Whatever had caught his interest, it had clearly caught it hard enough to make him forget an entire meeting.
And that, in itself, was unusual.
Cindy had known Adrian long enough to understand that he wasn't the sort of man who easily lost focus, especially when business was involved.
Yet here he was, standing outside the company and staring at an empty stretch of pavement as if something important had slipped through his fingers.
She had a feeling she was going to have a very hard time figuring him out.
And the worst part?
She might lose him at any moment.