Michael and Jess’s First Meeting
1: Michael and Jess’s First Meeting
The morning was quiet except for the occasional hum of the vacuum cleaner in the background as the rug washers prepared to clean the office. Michael stood at the center of the room, giving instructions to one of the cleaners. His mind was already occupied with the day’s tasks, oblivious to the sounds around him.
As he wrapped up the final details with the rug washer, the door to the office creaked open. A young girl stepped in, her eyes scanning the room uncertainly. She was slender, with a soft face framed by loose curls. She hesitated for a moment, then said, almost too quietly, “I’m here to wait for Nia.”
Michael glanced at her briefly, his mind still preoccupied. “Nia? Oh, the cleaner in the bridal shop next door?” He waved his hand dismissively toward an empty chair without much thought. “You can have a seat.”
Jess’s heart sank at the cold, impersonal interaction. She quietly sat down, but her emotions were already stirring. How could he not even acknowledge me properly? she thought, a slow anger bubbling up inside her. He hadn’t even looked at her long enough to notice her properly, treating her like she was invisible. Arrogant, she thought, her indignation growing with each passing second.
Michael, still entirely unaware of her growing frustration, turned his attention back to the rug washers. Jess sat in silence, watching him with irritation. Every word he spoke, every gesture he made, only fed her resentment. Who does he think he is?
After a few minutes, the cleaners had finished setting up their equipment, the low rumble of the vacuum now accompanied by the rhythmic swishing of brushes being tested on the carpet. Michael finally shifted his attention back toward her, as though suddenly remembering she was still in the room.
“Excuse me,” he said, his voice polite enough but wrapped in a cool distance that made it feel more like a formality than consideration. “Could you move to the corner so the cleaners can get to this part of the room?”
Jess stared at him, blinking once… then again.
The words sank in slowly, almost insultingly.
So now I’m just… in the way?
As though she were nothing more than an obstacle between him and his perfect morning checklist.
A fresh surge of irritation flared in her chest. She could feel it warming her skin, gathering behind her eyes. Everything about his tone—calm, composed, obliviously authoritative—rubbed her wrong. He didn’t sound condescending, but somehow that made it worse. He sounded indifferent. As if she was merely a chair, or a broom, or some other object that needed relocating to make space.
But she swallowed her pride, pressing her lips together tightly. Without a single word, she rose from the chair. Each movement felt heavier than it should have had to be, loaded with the frustration she refused to show openly. She stepped across the room and sank into the corner he had pointed out, positioning herself where she would no longer be a distraction or a hindrance—two words she could already imagine him thinking.
Jess folded her arms across her chest, drawing herself inward. The corner felt sterner, colder, as though the walls themselves could sense her mood. From there, she watched him—watched the way he turned back to the cleaners without a second thought, watched the focus in his posture, watched how effortlessly he seemed to overlook her existence.
Her irritation deepened into something sharper.
I’ve never been treated so rudely, she fumed silently.
Not even deliberately rude—just dismissive, hollow, void of basic courtesy.
She had walked into the office expecting… well, she wasn’t entirely sure what she expected. Maybe a small smile, a polite greeting, or at the very least a proper acknowledgment. Instead, she was being shuffled around the room like outdated furniture.
Every gesture he made only tightened the knot inside her. The way he discussed the cleaning process with the staff. The way he nodded with efficiency. The way he moved as though he had full command of the space—except for the corner where he had placed her.
She could feel her heartbeat quickening with irritation.
This man—whoever he thought he was—had already set himself firmly in the category of people she didn’t like.
Then, cutting through the simmering silence, the door swung open once more.
Nia stepped in with the easy confidence of someone who moved comfortably between rooms, carrying the faint scent of cleaning disinfectant and the energy of someone who had already been working. She waved lightly at Michael, her familiarity with him clear in the effortless gesture.
“Hey,” she said, scanning the room. “Have you seen my sister? She was supposed to meet me here.”
The words hung in the air for a moment, settling like dust before they sank in.
Her sister.
Michael’s eyes widened in surprise. Her sister? His mind quickly connected the dots. “You mean she’s your sister?” he asked, motioning toward Jess, who was still sitting in the corner.
Nia smiled and nodded. “Yeah, Jess. She’s been waiting for me.” She turned and beckoned Jess over. “Come on, sis, let me introduce you.”
Jess stood up slowly, her eyes still fixed on Michael with a mixture of disdain and curiosity. Nia walked over, gently nudging her forward. “Michael, this is Jess, my younger sister. She’ll be working with me at the bridal shop for now, and she’ll take over when I leave for university.”
Michael extended his hand toward her with a polite smile. “Nice to meet you, Jess.”
Jess hesitated, her eyes dropping to the hand he extended toward her. For a heartbeat, she simply stared at it—open, steady, annoyingly courteous—as if it had suddenly appeared out of nowhere. She wasn’t fooled. She remembered too clearly how effortlessly he had brushed her aside minutes earlier, how casually he had spoken to her without even a second glance.
Her stomach tightened.
Her jaw clenched.
Every instinct told her to ignore him entirely.
But with Nia watching expectantly between them, Jess forced herself to move. Slowly, reluctantly, she raised her hand and placed it into his. The contact was brief—barely more than a brush of skin. She offered the smallest, most controlled smile she could manage, one solely for her sister’s benefit. Inside, her irritation hadn’t softened at all.
Nice to meet you? she scoffed inwardly. After treating me like I’m invisible? After shuffling me around like I’m clutter in the room? Please.
Her grip remained limp, intentionally so. It was the only rebellious act she could get away with without starting a scene.
Michael’s fingers closed around hers gently, but even he seemed to notice something was off. His eyes narrowed just slightly, confusion flickering in them before he masked it with polite neutrality.
Jess caught that look.
It only fueled her resentment more.
He released her hand, and she withdrew hers as if the handshake had burned her. Folding her arms tightly across her chest again, she positioned herself slightly behind Nia, putting a small but deliberate barrier between them. She didn’t owe him warmth. She didn’t owe him friendliness. And she certainly didn’t owe him forgiveness for a rudeness he hadn’t even realized he committed.
Michael glanced at her briefly, the faintest crease forming between his brows, but he didn’t speak. Instead, he turned back to Nia as she launched into conversation about something work-related.
Jess remained where she was, stiff and silent. She listened to the rhythm of their exchange—the casual laughter, the easy flow of familiarity—and felt even more like an outsider. The longer she stood there, the more trapped she felt, like a guest in a place she didn’t belong.
I want to leave, she thought, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. I shouldn’t even be here.
But she couldn’t walk out—not while Nia was still chatting away without a care in the world. So Jess stood there, quietly simmering in a corner of her own irritation.
And right there, she made a silent vow, firm and absolute:
I will never like this guy.
Not today, not tomorrow, not ever.
