No strings attached |(UNDER REVISION)

Chapter 7- Jealous

Mikha chuckled, shaking her head. "As you wish, boss."

She stood up, folder in hand, and turned toward the door. But just before she stepped out, she glanced over her shoulder, sending me one last smirk.

"This is going to be fun," she murmured before disappearing from my office.

The door clicked shut behind her.

I inhaled deeply, steadying myself.

Mikha wanted to play this game?

Fine.

But she'd learn soon enough-I wasn't the same woman she walked away from.

And this time, I wouldn't be the one left broken.

The day dragged on, but the air in my office felt heavier than usual. It wasn't because of the workload or the countless meetings lined up in my schedule.

It was because of her.

Mikha.

Her office was near mine. Too near.

Through the glass walls, I could see her-settled at her desk, flipping through documents with a relaxed ease that made it look like she'd been working here for years. Her fingers tapped lazily against the table as she skimmed through papers, occasionally spinning her pen between her fingers.

Every so often, she would glance up, her eyes flickering toward my office.

As if she knew I was watching.

I rolled my shoulders back, forcing myself to focus on my laptop screen. It didn't matter that she was here. It didn't matter that I could see her, that every movement of hers pulled at my attention like a magnet.

She was just another employee.

Nothing more.

Yet, the longer I tried to ignore her, the more my gaze drifted back to her reflection on the glass.

She was smiling now, talking to one of the junior assistants. That same easy, effortless charm that used to make my stomach twist in knots.

And when she laughed-genuine, unfiltered, that same laugh that once felt like home-I felt something inside me clench.

Damn it.

I shouldn't be watching her.

I shouldn't care.

But then, as if sensing my stare, Mikha turned her head ever so slightly. Her gaze met mine through the reflection, and instead of looking away, she smirked.

Slow. Knowing.

Like she could still read me.

Like she still had me figured out.

I clenched my jaw and forced my eyes back to my screen.

No.

She didn't get to have that power over me anymore.

Mikha Dela Cruz could play all the games she wanted.

I tried to focus.

Really, I did.

But as my fingers hovered over my keyboard, my gaze betrayed me once again-drifting toward the glass, toward her.

Mikha was leaning against her desk, grinning as she spoke to one of the male employees. He laughed at something she said, shaking his head, clearly entertained.