3

She still does not know to this day whether it was the strong medication or her drop in self-esteem that made her appear at the door of his office.

…

“I’m looking for a reporter, not a reportress,” was the first sentence she ever heard from Taris. With indifference and burning arrogance, he used the next three sentences to signal she should leave.

But weeks of isolation in a single room had numbed the depressed Mishi so much that even Taris no longer unsettled her. She sat down opposite him and insisted on the interview.

Only now did she realize that not even the most horrifying stories about him captured how strong a brew he could be. His dark brown eyes were veiled by a hard, unreadable shield. His cheekbones were jutting from fatigue that made itself known. When he saw that this slow-witted hen had no intention of leaving, his jaw shifted as he clenched his teeth in anger, and a vein rose on his forehead. He looked as if he were about to shout. From what Mishi had heard, he never needed much to reach that point, so she remained silent. She watched his hand, with its sharply defined knuckles, tremble as he turned the pages of her résumé.

Into the stretched silence, Taris—surprisingly—did not explode. He examined the recommendation from his former superior that she had brought. As a former employee of the economic division, he did not have good memories of him. He uttered a few cutting remarks about the piece of paper, remarks that questioned not only Mishi’s ability to work here but the very meaning of her existence. Most likely, this was why no one had dared apply. Tay could instill thoughts of suicide in a weaker mind within minutes.

But Mishi, though weakened by recent events, knew how to play. She managed to endure the searing verbal toxins. Tay had no idea about her health condition, nor how deeply he carved when attempting to portray her as useless. Eventually, even he grew rather exhausted during the interview, and intrigued by Mishi’s composure, he gave up. And since no one else applied in the following days either, he broke his rule for the first time and accepted a woman as his personal reporter.

…

Mishi returned to the present moment and sensed Tay entering from the veranda. The loosely mounted glass in the door rattled, accompanied by his cursing.

She placed a bowl of soup on the table and glanced back. Even though he was coming in with Sheena in his arms, he was still the same as years ago. He could still erupt in a second and push through his will without a shred of empathy. Only the shield in his eyes—the one she had seen back then—was much weaker now. And it was not there at all when he looked at his daughter.

For a long time, Mishi had believed she herself would thaw the ice within him. Tay, however, had not fully shed his shell yet. But now, seeing every day how he behaved with Sheena, she believed that one day he would do it for her. He did not even realize how much the child he held was changing him.

She watched with quiet satisfaction as Tay, scowling irritably, slid into the bench and attempted to eat with one hand while holding the child with the other.

“We should think about where she’ll sleep soon,” he said.

“I was thinking we could clear the attic and make a little loft room up there,” Mishi leaned against the counter and looked outside. She dreamily added, “That would be lovely, I love attics.”

“I was thinking we could clear out this whole house and—” he began.

“Tay,” she interrupted him. “It’s beautiful here. She has a big garden, woods, no traffic, peaceful neighbors—”

“Splinters, mold, insects, half a step from one corner to the other to bang her head. Look how bruised I am! And I’m only here a few hours a week. And you want to give her a room upstairs so she can run up and down the stairs all day?!”

When he raised his voice, Mishi only smiled patiently. Silence worked.

…

She had learned that in the very first month as his reporter. Working for Taris was, in truth, real hell.