Ever since his conversation with Aidan that morning, Ganin had found himself thinking more often about someone he shouldn’t be thinking about, yet who kept appearing in his mind.
Dinan.
Not because they had grown closer. Their relationship was still the same as before. Rigid. Professional. There were no conversations outside of work.
Dinan still called him Mr. Ganin, and Ganin had never tried to change that. Maybe that was how it should be. He tried to respect the boundaries Dinan had set.
Ganin stared at his reflection in the mirror, reminding himself once again of his promise to Aidan to look after Tara. A promise he’d thought would be easy to keep.
But work seemed determined not to give him an easy chance to keep his distance. The finance division was entering the monthly closing period. Several figures still had to be reconciled before the consolidated report was sent to headquarters.
That morning, Dinan arrived carrying several documents. “Mr. Ganin, I’ve checked these. Only the last section is left.”
Ganin took the documents at a glance. “Put them here.”
Dinan placed them on the desk. “Then I’ll be going.”
Ganin looked up and spoke before he even realized it. “Dinan.”
The woman stopped. “Yes, Mr. Ganin?”
“Sit.” Again, Ganin let himself act without thinking.
“Yes?”
Dinan looked slightly confused. Ganin pointed to the chair in front of him, motioning for her to take it. “We’ll work on it together.”
“Now?”
Ganin shifted his gaze from the laptop and looked at Dinan. “Do you have other work?” he asked, probing.
Dinan glanced at the stack of documents in her hands, then looked back at Ganin. “No, Mr. Ganin.”
She pulled out the chair and sat down. Ganin returned his attention to his laptop. “This one still doesn’t match.” He turned the laptop around so Dinan could see it.
Dinan leaned closer to look at the screen. “Which one?”
“This one.”
“I already matched it against last month’s data.”
“Let’s look at it again.”
Dinan slid her chair a little closer. They worked in silence. Every so often, Ganin pointed to a number on the screen. Dinan took notes. Sometimes they asked each other questions, then sank back into their work. There was no personal conversation. Nothing that should have made Ganin feel strange.
Yet after a few minutes, he began to realize that Dinan could have handled the work herself. He knew it. Dinan probably knew it too. She simply didn’t question him about it.
“Mr. Ganin.”
“Hmm?”
“Can I reconcile this one later?”
Ganin looked at the numbers on the screen. “Do it now.”
Dinan sighed and adjusted her posture. “Okay.”
Ganin held his breath quietly. He was the one who had asked Dinan to sit down. He was the one who had turned a simple task into something they were doing together.
Ganin watched Dinan as she matched the figures. Every small movement she made forcibly summoned memories of his past.
Dinan doodling in her notebook during class, Dinan nearly falling asleep in English class, Dinan walking slowly in front of her classroom. Even Dinan sitting in the gardening club room almost every day. All of it was still preserved perfectly at the back of his mind.
Sensing that she was being watched, Dinan raised her head. Her eyes widened when she saw Ganin staring at her. Their gazes met for a few moments before Ganin turned away.
For the first time, Ganin dared to wonder: What if he had taken a different step seven years ago? What if, back then, he had pursued what he truly wanted instead of convincing himself that letting go was a sign of maturity?