My Mother’s Prince - The Day He Ran Toward Something - Part 10

 

The Day He Ran Toward Something

Distance is strange.

It doesn’t shout.
It just rearranges chairs quietly.

Three days passed.

Professional conversations.
Formal nods.
No shared tea.

He told himself it was better this way.

Focus.
Stability.
No complications.

But focus felt heavier now.

Even the printer seemed disappointed.

On the fourth day, the manager announced casually,

“Meera will handle the new client accounts from next month. She may shift to the head branch.”

The words landed sharply.

Shift.

Head branch.

Different location.

He looked up automatically.

She looked calm.

Too calm.

The meeting ended.

People congratulated her.

“Great opportunity.”
“Promotion soon.”
“Big growth.”

Growth.

He should be happy for her.

He was.

But something inside felt… pulled.

---

In the evening, he saw her clearing some files.

“You’re shifting?” he asked quietly.

“Maybe,” she replied. “Nothing final.”

“Oh.”

Silence.

She continued arranging papers.

“You didn’t ask me,” she said suddenly.

“Ask what?”

“If I wanted to go.”

He didn’t know what to say.

“Do you?”

She shrugged slightly.

“It’s good for career.”

“That’s good.”

She paused.

“Is that all?”

He swallowed.

Words gathered in his throat like traffic.

He almost let them pass.

Almost.

Then something inside said —

Run to finish.

“I didn’t avoid you because of gossip,” he said quickly.

She stopped moving.

“I avoided because… I didn’t know what this is.”

She waited.

“I’m not used to… feeling attached.”

Her expression softened.

He continued, voice steadier now.

“I’m still building myself. Small salary. Small position. I didn’t want to complicate your life.”

She watched him carefully.

“You think you’re a complication?”

“I don’t want to become one.”

She stepped closer.

“You know what complicates life?”

He shook his head.

“Not saying what matters.”

Silence filled the space between them.

But this time, it wasn’t empty.

It was charged.

---

He took a slow breath.

“I like talking to you,” he said.

Not dramatic.
Not poetic.

Just true.

“I like that you notice things. I like that you don’t laugh at me… much.”

She smiled slightly.

“I like that you try,” she said.

“And I don’t want to lose this because I’m scared.”

There it was.

Honest. Simple. Unpolished.

For the first time, he wasn’t measuring his words.

He was just speaking.

---

She looked at him for a long moment.

“I’m not shifting because I want to run away,” she said softly.
“I’m shifting because I want to grow.”

He nodded.

“That’s good.”

“And growth doesn’t mean leaving people behind.”

He blinked.

“You don’t have to decide everything today,” she continued.
“We’re not in a movie.”

He almost laughed.

“No background music?”

“Very low budget production.”

He smiled properly now.

---

Outside, the office lights dimmed.

She picked up her bag.

“Bus stop?” she asked casually.

He nodded.

This time, they walked side by side — not avoiding, not rushing.

Just walking.

At the bus stop, he said something unexpected.

“I’m going to apply for internal certification exam.”

She looked surprised.

“You?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

He thought for a second.

“Because I don’t want to stay version one forever.”

She smiled slowly.

“That’s the best thing you’ve said so far.”

The bus arrived.

Before boarding, she turned to him.

“You’re not a small salary person.”

He smiled gently.

“I’m a four-digit beginning.”

She nodded approvingly.

“That’s better.”

---

At home, his mother saw the quiet confidence in his face.

“Good day?”

He nodded.

“What happened?”

“I spoke.”

She smiled.

“My prince?”

He shook his head softly.

“No.”

Pause.

“Just me.”

She looked at him with pride that needed no crown.

---

That night, he didn’t stare at the ceiling in doubt.

He thought about exams.

Growth.

Possibilities.

Not because someone pushed him.

But because he chose to move.

Slowly.

Steadily.

Not running away anymore.

But sometimes —

Running toward something.