The board meeting had concluded, leaving a lingering hum of quiet triumph in the air. The scent of freshly brewed coffee mixed with the faint tang of whiteboard markers, and the distant murmur of conversations trickled through the polished glass walls. Outside, the city was bathed in the golden glow of the late afternoon sun, casting elongated shadows over the skyline. The rhythmic tapping of keyboards and the occasional rustle of papers filled the space, a reminder that, while one discussion had ended, the wheels of progress never stopped turning.

  I stood by the corner of the conference room, gathering my notes, the smooth pages cool beneath my fingertips. The discussion had gone well—better than I had expected. Still, I wasn’t the focus here; the project was. I kept my head down, content to remain unnoticed, when she leaned in close. Her presence was steady, unwavering, like the calm before a gentle storm.

  Her voice was low, almost conspiratorial, carrying the weight of something unspoken. “Congratulations.”

  I froze. The word felt misplaced, almost foreign in this context. My presentation had only been a fraction of today’s meeting, a small piece of a much larger discussion. Why would she congratulate me?

  Before I could form a response, she stepped back, her expression composed, yet a glint of quiet satisfaction shimmered in her eyes. The moment was fleeting, yet it clung to me, an unanswered question hovering in the air like a whisper lost in the wind.

  Then, her leader approached, a presence that carried both authority and an understated warmth. Their gaze held something unreadable, as though they were piecing together a puzzle only they could see. The soft hum of the air conditioning underscored the silence before they spoke.

  “What do you do for a living?” they asked, their voice measured, deliberate.

  The question caught me off guard. “I’m still a student,” I admitted, my voice steady despite the sudden weight of the moment.

  They nodded, as if my response had confirmed something deeper. “Would you be interested in working with us? Your perspective is refreshing, and your research skills are impressive.”

  My heart stumbled, caught between disbelief and cautious excitement. “I—I don’t have any experience. I’ve never worked anywhere before.”

  Their expression remained reassuring, patient, like an artist observing a blank canvas before the first stroke. “We’re not looking for experience. We need insight—an unclouded view. Join us at conferences, analyze discussions, tell us what’s missing, what could be better. Your ability to challenge the norm is what we need.”

  I hesitated, feeling the silent weight of her presence a few steps away. She wasn’t watching me directly, yet I could sense her attention, her quiet encouragement like a steady force beside me. It was strange—this silent exchange, this unspoken understanding—but it felt like an anchor in the uncertain tide of opportunity.

  “I’d be honored,” I finally said, my voice barely above a whisper.

  “Good.” The leader smiled, then walked off to finish their tasks.

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  As the room emptied, the lingering buzz of discussion slowly faded into the background. The city beyond the glass panels had softened into twilight, streaks of amber and lilac painting the horizon. She approached me again, her expression thoughtful, yet relaxed, the kind of ease that only came from certainty.

  “Congratulations,” she repeated, softer this time, the edges of her voice tinged with something knowing, something undeniable.

  And now, I understood. She had known all along—seen something in me before I had seen it in myself.

  Before I could respond, she tilted her head slightly. “So… are you going to celebrate this new milestone?”

  I blinked. Celebrate? The thought hadn’t even crossed my mind. The reality was simpler—I barely had enough money for my bus fare home. The weight of practicality pressed against the elation of opportunity, threatening to pull me back down.

  She must have noticed the hesitation because she spoke before I could come up with an excuse. “I’ll treat you,” she said, her tone casual, yet firm. “Call it a small welcome to the team.”

  “I—”

  She lifted a hand slightly, cutting off my protest before it could form. “It’s not just a treat. We’ll talk more about the project. I want to hear your thoughts.”

  There was no room for argument. And so, we found ourselves walking down the quiet city streets, the pavement reflecting the warm glow of streetlights flickering to life. The air was crisp, carrying the scent of rain that had passed earlier in the day, mingling with the earthy aroma of freshly watered plants lining the sidewalks. The restaurant she chose was small, unassuming, its warm lights spilling onto the sidewalk like an invitation. Inside, the air carried the scent of herbs and freshly baked bread, wrapping around us like a quiet embrace.

  She chose a table by the window, where the world outside slowed to a quiet lull. Pedestrians passed by in slow strides, lost in their own stories, while the occasional sound of laughter drifted from a nearby table. At first, the conversation revolved around the project. I spoke about sustainability, about the importance of designing solutions that lasted beyond immediate needs. She listened, the sharp scratch of her pen against paper marking moments of thought, as if she were capturing fragments of something bigger.

  “You really believe in this, don’t you?” she mused, her voice softer now, almost reflective, as if she were seeing something beyond the present.

  I nodded. “It’s not just about funding. It’s about building something that gives these children a real future. If we only focus on the present, we’ll keep repeating the same mistakes.”

  Something in her expression shifted, a flicker of something deeper beneath the surface. “Why do you think no one else brought these points up?”

  I exhaled, considering my words carefully. “Maybe they’re too focused on what’s worked before. It’s easy to follow the same road when it’s familiar.”

  She studied me for a moment before a small, knowing smile formed. “Or maybe they just needed someone to shake things up.”

  The conversation drifted, shifting from work to life, to books that had shaped us, to dreams we hadn’t yet dared to chase. There was a quiet humor in her words, an ease that settled into the space between us. She wasn’t overly playful, nor did she fill silences unnecessarily. Instead, there was a careful deliberation in everything she said, as if every word mattered.

  By the time we stepped back outside, the city had transformed into a canvas of lights and shadows, the crisp night air humming with the distant sounds of life continuing elsewhere. She glanced at me, her expression calm yet warm, the glow of the streetlights casting golden hues across her face.

  “Thank you for saying yes,” she said, her voice barely above the quiet hum of the city.

  I shook my head. “I should be thanking you. You believed in me first.”

  She smiled then, a soft, knowing curve of her lips. For a moment, the world seemed to pause around us.

  This wasn’t just about a job or a project.

  It felt like the start of something much bigger.

  Untold Fairy Tale! ???