quince

Risa's head snapped up at the sound of her name, her pen pausing mid-stroke. For a moment, the room was completely still, the quiet hum of the air conditioner the only sound between them.

Alice felt her pulse in her throat, her fingers curling slightly at her sides. She wasn’t sure what she had expected—shock, confusion, maybe even a little guilt. But Risa’s face remained unreadable, the way it always had.

"Alice," Risa said, her voice measured. "What are you doing here?"

Alice forced a breath, willing herself to stay steady. "Applying for an assistant position, Ms. Hontiveros," she replied, keeping her tone professional, detached. "Leni said I could work here."

At the mention of Leni, something flickered in Risa’s expression, something almost imperceptible.

"Leni?" Risa repeated, her voice tight. "Ka ano-ano mo si Leni?"

Alice’s brow furrowed slightly. "Why?" she asked, suspicion creeping into her voice.

Risa didn’t answer right away. Instead, she closed the document in front of her, fingers tapping lightly against the desk. For the first time since Alice stepped into the room, Risa truly looked at her—not just in recognition, but as if she were trying to solve a puzzle.

"Never mind," Risa finally said, shaking her head. She exhaled slowly, straightening in her chair. "If you're here for the job, we’ll see if you’re qualified."

Alice’s chest tightened. After all these years, was that all she had to say? No acknowledgment, no apology—just this cold professionalism.

But then, she reminded herself—wasn’t this what she wanted? To move on? To start fresh?

So, she forced herself to nod, to keep her expression neutral. "Understood."

But deep down, she knew it wouldn’t be that simple.

─

Ms. Hontiveros POV

The moment Alice said Leni’s name, something inside Risa twisted—tight, sharp, unexpected.

Leni.

Her mind reeled, trying to make sense of it.

Ka ano-ano mo si Leni? The words had slipped out before she could stop herself, before she could even think.

Alice had looked at her then—confused, suspicious.

Why?

Risa had no answer. Or rather, she had too many.

Because if Leni was involved—if Alice was connected to her in a way that mattered—then everything was about to get more complicated than it already was.

But instead of pressing, instead of giving in to the need to know, Risa swallowed it down, forcing herself back into the role she had perfected over the years.

Detached. Professional. Unaffected.

"Never mind," she had said, brushing it off, though her mind was anything but quiet.

Now, as Alice stood there, waiting, Risa studied her—really studied her.

She was different from the girl Risa remembered.

Older. Sharper. But still carrying that same intensity in her eyes. The same weight.

It had been ten years.

Ten years since Risa had walked away.

And now, here Alice was, standing in her office, looking at her like a ghost from a past Risa had long tried to bury.

She should have expected this. She should have been prepared.

But nothing could have prepared her for Alice Guo standing in front of her again.

Still, Risa kept her voice steady. "If you're here for the job, we’ll see if you’re qualified."

Alice nodded, her face neutral, but Risa knew better.

She could feel the tension between them, thick and heavy, pressing into the space that separated them.

This wasn’t just a job interview.

This was unfinished business.

And Risa wasn’t sure if she was ready to face it.

─

She should’ve rejected her from the start.

It would’ve been easy—just a simple I’m sorry, but we’ve already filled the position or I don’t think you’re the right fit for this company.

But she didn’t.

And now, Alice was here. In her space. Breathing the same air. Making Risa’s carefully built walls crack just by existing.

She didn’t like it.

No—she hated it.

She hated how Alice fit into the role so seamlessly, how she picked up tasks quickly, how she handled everything Risa threw at her without complaint. She hated how Alice was competent, organized, and—damn it—reliable.

And most of all, she hated how her presence made Risa feel things she had spent a decade trying to forget.

So she made it hard for her.

She buried Alice in paperwork, sent her on pointless errands, criticized the tiniest mistakes, and assigned her the most tedious, exhausting tasks.

"Redo this," she said, handing Alice back a file she knew was already perfect.

Alice barely blinked, taking the folder with steady hands. “May I ask what’s wrong with it, ma’am?”

Risa met her gaze, something inside her twisting at the formality. Ma’am.

She used to say Ms. Hontiveros in that teasing way, dragging out the syllables, testing the limits of propriety.

Risa straightened in her chair. “Figure it out.”

Alice nodded once and walked out of the office.

Risa watched her go, frustration simmering under her skin.

She was supposed to quit. She was supposed to get tired of this and leave.

That was the plan.

And yet—

Alice endured.

And it drove Risa insane.

Every time she expected her to break, Alice only dug in deeper, proving herself again and again.

Even Loren, the company’s second-in-command, had commented, “That assistant of yours—sharp girl. You should hold on to her.”

Risa wanted to laugh.

Hold on?

She wanted Alice gone.

Didn’t she?

Then why did her chest feel lighter whenever she saw her?

Why did her office feel less suffocating with Alice in it?

Why did her heart betray her every time she looked at the woman she had spent ten years running from?

No.

She clenched her fists.

Alice would quit. She had to.

Because if she didn’t—

Risa didn’t know what she’d do.

Now, Alice was here, standing in her office, working for her, and Risa was losing her damn mind.

She didn’t want her here.

Her head told her this was a disaster waiting to happen. That it was better if Alice walked away, if she never saw her again.

But her heart—

Her heart was a traitor.

And that was exactly why she had to make Alice leave.

So she made things difficult.

She assigned her the most exhausting, time-consuming tasks. She found the smallest errors to criticize. She made her redo work that didn’t need fixing.

And Alice?

She never complained.

It was infuriating.

"Ms. Hontiveros, here’s the revised file," Alice said, placing the documents on her desk.

Risa didn’t look up. “Late.”

“It’s 9:01,” Alice pointed out, deadpan.

"I said before 9."

Alice didn’t even blink. “Duly noted, ma’am.”

The way she said ma’am made something tighten in Risa’s chest. It wasn’t the same as before—wasn’t the teasing, playful way Alice used to say Ms. Hontiveros—but it still made Risa’s pulse stutter.

She forced her expression to remain unreadable. “Fix the formatting. Again.”

Alice didn’t argue. She just took the file and walked out.

Risa exhaled, rubbing her temples.

She was supposed to be making Alice quit.

So why did she feel like she was the one losing control?

Navarro Corporation had been her world for years. She built it, ran it, owned it. It was hers.

Alice didn’t belong here.

But then why did this office feel less empty with her in it?

Why did her heartbeat stumble every time Alice walked in?

Why was she so afraid of her staying?