Chapter 4 The Elevator Incidence

Friday evening arrived like a sigh. The entire office buzzed with weekend anticipation-except for the 20th floor, where silence still reigned under the iron thumb of Mr. Boateng.

Vernissa had stayed behind-again.

Mr. Boateng's meeting with the legal team had run overtime, and she was waiting for one final document to scan and archive before calling it a night. The rest of the staff had long vanished.

At exactly 8:42 p.m., she stepped into the elevator, shoulders slumped, carrying a file folder and a half-empty mug of herbal tea.

The doors began to close-

A large hand stopped them.

Mr. Boateng stepped inside, silent and unreadable as always, holding his coat and briefcase. He glanced at her, then faced forward, his jaw tight. The air grew still.

Two floors down, the elevator jerked.

Then stopped.

There was a soft ding. Then nothing.

No movement.

No lights on the control panel.

No elevator music.

"Did... it just stop?" Vernissa asked.

Mr. Boateng pressed the emergency button. No response. He tried the intercom.

Dead.

"I think the storm's knocked something out," he muttered, unusually calm.

She blinked. "We're stuck?"

He checked the panel again. "Seems like it."

Vernissa backed against the wall, gripping the railing. The elevator was sleek and modern, but it suddenly felt like a coffin.

"Okay," she whispered, trying not to panic. "Okay..."

"You alright?" he asked, watching her carefully.

"I'm fine. I just-don't like enclosed spaces."She said...

He set down his briefcase and coat. "Breathe. The generator should kick in soon."

But the minutes dragged on. Ten. Twenty.

No sound. No movement.

Just the soft thrum of rain and the too-loud beat of her heart.

To distract herself, she sat on the floor, legs crossed, fingers tugging at the hem of her blouse. He remained standing at first, arms crossed, leaning against the mirrored wall.

Then slowly-he sat too.

Side by side. Silence between them.

"Want some tea?" she offered with a faint smile, holding out her mug.

He blinked, surprised. Then chuckled-a real chuckle-and took a cautious sip.

"Mint," he said. "You always drink this."

"I like the quiet it brings," she replied softly. "It calms me."

He nodded. "You surprise me."

She tilted her head. "Why?"

"You're still here."

She smiled. "You're not easy, Mr. Boateng."

"No one worth it ever is."

The elevator lights flickered.

Then went dark.

Complete blackout.

Vernissa gasped. She wasn't confined-but darkness in tight spaces triggered something primal.

Without thinking, she reached out-her hand landed on his wrist.

He didn't pull away.

Instead, he said, voice low, "It's alright."

They sat like that for a moment. The silence between them wasn't heavy anymore.

It was electric.

"You know," she said finally, "you intimidate everyone. But I think you do it on purpose."

"I do."

"Why?"

"Because people disappoint me less when they fear me."

She shook her head, even though he couldn't see it. "That's lonely."

He turned toward her. She felt the heat of him beside her. "It's safer."

"But not better."

A long silence.

Then he asked something unexpected.

"What do you want, Vernissa?"

She blinked. "In life?"

"Yes."

"I want to be seen. To matter. I want my name to mean something more than just who I work for."

He exhaled slowly. "That's honest."

"What about you?" she whispered. "What do you want?"

He didn't answer right away.

Then softly:

"To trust again."

Their hands were still touching.

The power returned with a loud hum, breaking the spell.

The lights flickered back on. The elevator lurched-and continued moving.

Neither of them spoke again until it stopped on the ground floor.

He stood and looked down at her. She looked up, unsure what to do with the storm that had just passed through them.

He held the elevator door for her. "After you."

She stepped out.

But just before he turned to leave, he said, "You're not invisible, Vernissa."

She froze.

He met her eyes.

"Don't ever think that you are."

And then he walked away.