Does He Feel It Too?

Hannah's POV

It was a miracle that my appointment with Dr. Terrence wasn't cancelled given how late I was.

I walked into his office at exactly 11:00 am when my meeting was scheduled for 10:15 am. One could say I was fashionably late, but after the chandelier incident downstairs I looked less than ideal – a wrinkled jacket and broken watch don't exactly scream 'fashion icon'.

Taking a seat in one of the chairs in front of the expensive oak desk, I pulled out my compact and tried to make myself look decent. 

Luckily, my makeup was still intact with only my lip gloss needing a touch-up. My braids were also mostly perfect, so I was good to go in the hair department. I just needed to readjust my shirt as a finishing touch and -

"Usually, potential employees get dressed at home. This is new."

I froze in shock and partial embarrassment at the voice which I'm certain is Dr. Terrence's. Too embarrassed to face him, I waited as he slowly walked to take his seat at the desk, except when he did, I was given the third shock of the morning.

Dr. Terrence was a woman.

Bewildered, I simply stared at her. Though she appeared to be in her early thirties, I could tell she was middle-aged, perhaps in her forties. With ginger hair and ceramic-like skin paired with forest-green eyes, the woman was the image of elegance.

Lord, let me look this good at forty.

"Is there a problem, Miss Oba?"

Immediately snapping out of my fangirling, I quickly composed myself. Taking control of the situation, I calmly leaned back into my chair while maintaining direct eye contact with her. 

"No, there isn't, Ma'am. Usually, potential employers are old white men. This is new."

"Using my own words against me, eh?" she said with a laugh. "I like you already. And please call me Dr Terrence. Ma'am makes me feel old."

"As you wish, Dr Terrence," I responded, testing out the feel of addressing her as that instead of 'Ma'am'. "I apologize for my lateness. I got held up because of an incident but I can assure you it will not happen again."

"Oh, it's fine. I just arrived here about five minutes ago so let's call it even," she waved it off, her thick British accent apparent. Bringing out a file which I'm certain contains my resume and application letter, she studied it for a while before smiling brightly at me.

"So, tell me about you, Miss Oba. I know you went to Oxford and you've participated in our yearly internship programme. But tell me why I should hire you, other than the fact that so many of your professors recommend you. What do you have to offer?"

I didn't even need to think twice to answer that.

"Excellence, quite simply. I am an over-achiever and I invest myself completely in what I do. I never settle for second-best. I'm sure you can see from my resume and all my recommendations that I'm a very goal-oriented person. I pay attention to details. Details like the colour-coded arrangement on your file cabinet. It's red before blue."

Dr Terrence turned to the file cabinet behind her and true to my words, one blue folder was placed before the red ones. She turned back to me with an approving smile.

"I'm impressed. You're very charismatic."

"I prefer the term driven."

"Well Miss Oba" – I cringed as she pronounced my name wrong – "I like you. I believe you're more than qualified to – oh, Hwan!"

Her eyes lit up as she stared behind me at whoever just opened her office door. I turned to see the familiar face of the boy who saved me barely twenty minutes ago and furrowed my eyebrows in puzzlement. He seemed surprised to see me as well but quickly covered it with an awkward smile.

"I didn't know you were busy," he said with a nervous chuckle. "I'll just come back later."

"Oh no, Hwan," Dr. Terrence interjected much to my dismay, "you can stay. I was just wrapping up here."

I raised a quizzical brow. "You were? I thought we were just getting started." 

"Oh no, we're finished," she confirmed, before telling Hwan to sit. He obliged and took the only other empty chair which happened to be next to mine. He was obviously uncomfortable with this and so was I, especially after the chandelier fiasco. 

There was a strange tension between the two of us, but clearly, Dr Terrence couldn't sense it as she went ahead to introduce us.

"Miss Oba this is Hwan, my son's best friend and basically a part of my family. Hwan this is Miss Hannah Oba, one of our data analysts here at Terrence Inc."

Smiling with joy, I'm pleased to learn I've been hired as she introduces me as one of the company's staff. Giving her a grateful nod, my attention turns back to Hwan who is staring intently at me.

Something about this Hwan guy just doesn't sit right with me. I felt unusually on edge with his eyes watching me, and I didn't like it. 

Forcing a smile onto my face, I extended my hand for a shake. "Nice to meet you, Hwan."

"Nice to meet you too, Hannah," he responded shyly, barely making eye contact. He took my hand in his own, his larger ones completely engulfing my smaller ones in a shake.

Something about the physical contact sent tingles up my spine, my grip tightening involuntarily. Shocked at the reaction, I pulled my hand away but surprisingly, so did he.

Did he feel that too? What even was that? Am I going crazy?

Deciding it was my dislike for him that was making me hallucinate, I put on a mask of indifference. "It's Miss Oba. Only my friends call me Hannah."

He visibly looked offended by the last part but didn't make a comment. He simply gave me a nod of acknowledgement before turning to Dr Terrence. Realizing that was my cue to go, I stood to leave.

"Thank you very much, Dr Terrence. I'm honoured to join your company."

"No problem, dear. We're happy to have you. You'll receive your work schedule through an email. See you next Monday!"

I nodded and uttered another 'thanks', before turning to leave. As I walked away, I could feel Hwan's eyes trained on me and I tried to shake off the weird sinking feeling it was giving me.

Whoever this Hwan guy was, I definitely did not like him.

-

Hwan's POV

I watched her as she confidently strutted out of the room almost as if she were the CEO. She was such a strange girl.

I couldn't quite place a finger on how I felt about her just yet.

"She's something, isn't she?"

Dr. Terrence's words cut me out of my reverie. Her green eyes were sparkling with mischief as she stared intently at me, a smirk planted on her lips. "Miss Oba. She is quite the charmer."

Shrugging in response, I tried to figure out just what she was up to. "I suppose. Then again, I don't really know her."

"But you would like to, eh?"

Rolling my eyes in response, I finally realised what the forty-five-year-old was up to. 

For the longest time, Dr. Terrence had been trying to get me a girlfriend. After finding out I'd never been in a proper relationship with anyone, she'd made it her life's goal to set me up with every eligible female she knew. 

Miss Oba was clearly her latest attempt.

"She seems like an interesting person, Eomma. Just not for me," I said with finality, wanting to end the awkward topic.

"I understand. She's way too domineering for you anyway," Dr Terrence replied half-heartedly, clearly pleased I had dropped the formality and addressed her as 'mother'. "So, what brings you to my office, dear? You should've just stopped by the house."

It had been over a year since I'd last set foot at the Terrence family home. I just couldn't bring myself to go there after Mark's death.

Mark was my best friend – he still is – and Dr Terrence's only child. We met in our first year of college and we basically became brothers ever since. Dr. Terrence even considered adopting me at one point because of how close we both were. Of course, I refused the offer, opting to remain an unofficial part of Mark's family. 

Despite this, they loved me like I was their own blood, and I loved them just as fiercely.

They filled the void of family I'd had all my life, so much so that I often forgot I was an orphan. So, imagine how devastated I was when Mark lost the fight to cancer more than a year ago – he never even told me he was sick.

His death scarred me, and I mourned him every day. Though Dr Terrence and I still maintained our close relationship, I rarely ever visited her home.

It just hurt too much.

Shaking off my dreary thoughts, I focused my attention back to her expectant eyes. "I'll visit you soon, Eomma. But I'm here for business reasons."

She perks up at that. "Business? What business?" 

"After a lot of deliberation, I think I'm ready to get back into writing. I've been thinking about it for a while and I've decided to move to LA. That's where I believe the most doors would be open for me. But I'm going to need some money to do that."

Hurt flashed on her face momentarily, but she quickly covered it with a smile. "Are you sure, Hwan? Los Angeles is very far from here and it's such a big city. I don't think you'd be able to cope."

"I've lived in New York for four years, Eomma. I'm pretty sure I can survive LA," I said with a chuckle, but she wasn't amused. Instead, she looked away sadly. Worried, I took her hand affectionately. 

"Eomma, what's wrong?"

"Oh, it's nothing, Hwan," she sighed, reaching up to pinch my cheeks. "It just feels like I'm losing another son."

My heart broke at those words, and I did my best to reassure her. "You'll never lose me, Eomma. We're family."

With a sad smile, she drew me into a warm embrace. We stayed like that for a few seconds before I pulled away, gently squeezing her shoulder for good measure. Small a gesture as that was, it was my way of offering comfort.

I could only hope it eased her.

Letting out a deep sigh, she reached across the table for her purse. Much to my confusion, she took out her chequebook and began writing a cheque.

"So, how much will you need, Hwan? Will five million be enough to get you started?"

My eyes widened in horror as I realised what was happening. "Eomma, what are you doing? I don't want you to give me money!"

She gave me a confused look as I snatched the pen from her. Sighing, I proceeded to clear up what I meant. "You know I would never take money from you. I just wanted to ask for a job."

"But you're like my son, Hwan. You don't need to work for money," she said worriedly. "What's mine is yours. I'm more than happy to give you anything you need."

Returning to my chair, I looked away feeling embarrassed. "I know, but I don't want to take money from you like that. It feels wrong. And Eomma, you know how I feel about being a charity case."

"You know you're not charity, Hwan. But if you insist on not taking my money, then I'll respect that. What exactly do you need me to do?"

"I need about a hundred thousand in total to cover the move and to settle in. I was hoping you could give me a job here so that I could raise that amount in a year or two. Are there any vacancies?"

Scrunching her face up in thought, she took a while before responding. "Unfortunately, there are no vacancies requiring your qualifications. But I am looking for a personal assistant. The pay is about five grand weekly since you'll be working for me and the job is relatively easy. All you need to do is type paperwork, organize my schedule and make coffee. Are you interested?"

"You had me at five grand," I grinned excitedly, looking around for a contract. "Where do I sign?"

"We'll get to that soon, dear," she chuckled at my reaction, shaking her head at my antics. "I'm glad you're working with me, Hwan. Welcome to Terrence Inc."