Scars and Secrets

The office was quiet, everyone absorbed in their work. But across the room, Emily looked up, her eyes widening in surprise. A blush crept up her cheeks, a silent confirmation of his bizarre dream. Ethan thought about her, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm against his ribs. The dream, a bittersweet escape, had left him with a question that hung heavy in the air: Was this just a dream, or a glimpse of something more?

Emily's heart raced as she stepped into the CEO's office. Manager Park's words echoed in her mind: "What are you waiting for? The boss called you." Determined, Emily hurried toward Ethan's office.

As she pushed open the door, her eyes widened. There stood Ethan, his back turned to her, changing his clothes. But it wasn't the disheveled state of his attire that caught her attention—it was the intricate web of scars covering his body. Each scar seemed to tell a story of pain, resilience, and survival.

Ethan's skin bore the marks of battles fought, both visible and hidden. His face, once handsome, now carried the weight of memories etched into every line. His arms, his chest—no place was spared. Emily wondered what trials he had endured, what demons he had faced.

At that moment, she understood. Ethan wasn't just a CEO; he was a survivor. His scars were badges of honor, proof that he had weathered storms, both external and internal. Emily's hand instinctively reached for the doorknob, and with a resounding click, she closed the door behind her.

The room fell silent. Ethan turned, his eyes meeting hers. There was vulnerability there, a silent plea not to judge, not to pity. Emily didn't speak; she simply held his gaze. In that shared silence, she glimpsed the depth of his pain and the strength that had carried him through.

Emily stood frozen, her eyes locked on Ethan's scar-covered body. The room seemed to hold its breath as she closed the office door with a resounding thud. Everyone turned to look at her, but Emily was lost in her thoughts. Who was this man before her? How could someone bear such visible pain?

Ethan's scars told a story—one of battles fought, wounds endured, and resilience tested. She had never seen anything like it. His skin bore the weight of a lifetime, etched with memories that defied comprehension.

"Come in," Ethan's voice broke the silence. Emily stepped forward, her curiosity overpowering her fear. Without thinking, she blurted out, "Who gave you those scars? Did they hurt you?"

Ethan's laughter held both pain and tenderness. "Not your concern," he replied. "Now go about your work."

But Emily couldn't tear her eyes away. She saw more than physical marks; she glimpsed the depth of Ethan's soul. Who was he, really? What had he survived? And why did he carry this burden alone?

As she turned to leave, her gaze fell on a photo lying on Ethan's desk. It was a picture of her and him—side by side, smiling. Confusion washed over her. "Whose photo is this?" she asked.

Ethan's urgency surprised her. He snatched the photo, hiding it in his desk. "Go," he said sharply. "Why are you still here?"

Emily's mind churned, fixated on the mysterious photo. It held answers—about Ethan, about herself. She returned to her desk, lost in thought.

But Manager Park interrupted her reverie. "What are you doing, Emily?" he barked, thrusting a project file at her. "This is your work. It's a mess."

Emily's heart sank. She had lost her touch. Her past competence now felt like a distant memory. She wondered if Ethan noticed her decline.

As if summoned, Ethan emerged, his eyes catching hers. He sensed her sadness. Oliver, always observant, approached Ethan. "Emily," Oliver said, "she used to excel. Now…"

Ethan's brow furrowed. He remembered the Emily who tackled challenges head-on. What had changed? Why did she carry this weight?

"Let's go," Ethan said to Oliver. They leave for the meeting, leaving Emily to grapple with scars, secrets, and the fading echoes of her former self.

Ethan and Oliver stepped into the hotel, their footsteps echoing in the plush lobby. The air smelled of polished wood and anticipation. A waitress, her uniform crisp, approached them with a practiced smile. She greeted Ethan, who nodded in acknowledgment. His eyes darted around, searching for something.

"Where's our table?" Ethan asked, his voice low but firm.

The waitress gestured toward the corner, where a candle flickered on a white-clothed table. "Right this way," she said, leading them through the maze of chairs and hushed conversations.

As they settled into their seats, Oliver leaned in. "Boss, I'll wait outside," he said, his eyes darting toward the exit.

Ethan raised an eyebrow. "Wait for me? This meeting is between us."

Oliver's surprise was palpable. "What...?" he stammered.

Ethan's smile softened. "Yes, you heard right," he replied. "Let's sit and talk."

And so they did, the flickering candle casting shadows on their faces. Oliver couldn't contain his curiosity any longer. "Boss," he began cautiously, "what's this meeting about? Did you expel me from the job?"

Ethan leaned back, his gaze steady. "No," he said, his voice carrying a weight. "This is something bigger." The air thickened with anticipation, and Oliver's mind raced with possibilities.

What could be bigger than a job? Oliver wondered. The answer lay ahead, hidden in the folds of their conversation, waiting to be revealed. 

Oliver watched Ethan storm through the door, his face a mask of barely contained fury. "Ethan, what happened?" Oliver asked, his voice laced with concern.

Ethan slammed his fist against the wall, his voice tight with controlled anger. "The chairman is a monster, Oliver! But none of this would be possible without you by my side."

Oliver's eyes softened. "Always, Ethan. You're the only one I trust. You took a chance on me when no one else would, even helped save my mother."

A tremor ran through Ethan's voice. "That's why I need you now, Oliver. More than ever. If I win this, it won't change anything for me. But everything for them..." he trailed off, his gaze hardening with unspoken resolve.

Oliver said yes, boss. I am always with you. After seeing the chairman punished in a brutal manner, I have a strong dislike for him. Ethan inquired, did you witness that? Oliver, I'm sorry, boss. Don't worry, Ethan said. The Chairman does what he does because I am not his son. Oliver sprayed the water all over his face and asked, 'What? ' How.. That's impossible. 

Ethan's eyes burned with a mix of anger and despair. "There's more I can't tell you now. But I need your loyalty, Oliver. Will you stand with me?"

Oliver grasped Ethan's hand, his grip strong and steady. "You saved my life, Ethan. Now let's fight together. Whatever the outcome."

The handshake was a silent vow, a promise forged in loyalty and a shared sense of injustice. Then they both leave the hotel.