The offer came quietly.
No warning.
No drama.
Just an email marked confidential sitting in my inbox when I opened my laptop that morning.
Subject: Opportunity Discussion
It was from the consulting firm that had audited us.
My chest tightened as I read.
They wanted me.
Not immediately—but soon.
A lead role on a new project. Higher pay. More visibility. Complete independence.
No mention of Arvan.
No mention of his company.
Just me.
I closed the laptop slowly.
This was exactly the kind of opportunity I used to wish for.
And now it felt like a test.
I didn't tell Arvan.
Not because I wanted to hide it—
but because I needed to know what I wanted before his presence shaped the answer.
The day moved on as usual. Meetings. Deadlines. Decisions.
Arvan didn't notice anything different.
Or maybe he did—and chose not to ask.
By afternoon, the consultant followed up.
Let us know if you're open to a conversation.
I stared at the message for a long moment.
Then I replied.
Yes. I'm open to a conversation.
Not acceptance.
Not rejection.
Conversation.
That evening, I met them at a quiet café near the office. Neutral ground. No power plays.
They were direct.
"You're impressive," the senior consultant said. "And underutilized."
I didn't flinch.
"We're building a team," he continued. "We'd like you to be part of it."
I listened. Asked questions. Took notes.
I didn't say yes.
I didn't say no.
When I returned home later that night, my phone buzzed.
Arvan:
Long day?
I exhaled slowly.
Me:
Yes. But a good one.
A pause.
Then—
Arvan:
I'm glad.
No interrogation.
No assumptions.
That was trust.
The next morning, I walked into the office clear-headed.
I went straight to his office and knocked.
"Come in," he said.
I stood across from his desk, hands steady.
"I need to tell you something," I said.
He leaned back slightly, attentive.
"I was approached," I continued. "By the consultants. About a role."
Silence followed.
He didn't react immediately.
"Are you considering it?" he asked calmly.
"Yes," I said honestly.
"But not because I want to leave."
His gaze held mine.
"Then why?" he asked.
"Because I need to know I can choose," I replied.
"Not because of you. Not away from you. Just… as myself."
A beat.
Then he nodded.
"I won't stand in your way," he said.
"Whatever you decide."
Relief washed through me.
"That's all I needed to hear," I said.
I turned to leave.
"Mira," he said softly.
I looked back.
"Thank you for telling me," he added.
"And for choosing honesty before certainty."
I smiled faintly.
Because the choice I made wasn't about leaving or staying.
It was about knowing I could stand on my own—
And still choose him.