Epilogue 1 — The Ring in Fluorescent Light
Monday mornings at Meridian Harbor Systems always smelled like someone had tried to microwave regret.
It was faint–coffee that had been sitting too long on a warmer, leftover curry in plastic containers, the dry chilled breath of air-conditioning that made your skin forget what the sun felt like. The building itself had a rhythm: turnstile beeps, elevator chimes, shoes clicking on carpet that was too clean to be trusted.
Jiawen liked routines.
She just didn’t like being owned by them.
That morning, she stood at the lobby mirror for a second longer than usual.
Not to fix her hair.
Not to check her lipstick.
To look at her hand.
The ring sat on her finger with quiet confidence.
It didn’t glitter obnoxiously. It wasn’t a billboard.
It was simply there.
A small circle of certainty on the part of her body that used to be most nervous in the office–hands that typed, hands that gestured too much when she was excited, hands that gave her away.
She rotated her wrist slightly. The overhead lighting caught the stone and made it flash once.
Jiawen exhaled.
She had thought she would feel embarrassed.
She felt… exposed.
Not because she didn’t want the engagement.
Because the office was a machine that fed on patterns.
And a ring was a pattern you couldn’t unsee.
Her phone vibrated.
A text from Faris.
Reached. You okay?
Jiawen’s mouth twitched.
He had probably been in the office for ten minutes already, sitting at his desk with that calm posture that made people think he was never anxious. The truth was, he was always anxious.
He just wore it like a collared shirt.
Jiawen typed back.
I’m okay. If I die today, tell HR it wasn’t because of policy.
His reply came fast.
Don’t be dramatic.
Jiawen smiled at her screen.
She slid her phone into her bag, squared her shoulders, and walked into the lift.
The lift doors closed.
Her reflection stared back at her in the mirrored wall.
A young woman with an engagement ring.
A woman who had once been an intern here, quiet and uncertain, trying to earn a chair.
Now she was the woman who had her own chair.
And a ring that said she didn’t have to pretend otherwise.
When the lift opened on their floor, the fluorescent light hit her like a familiar slap.
Welcome back.
The office was already alive.
Keyboards.
Muted greetings.
The smell of someone’s instant noodles.
Jiawen walked toward her pod with her usual pace–fast enough to look purposeful, slow enough to look calm.
She almost made it.
Almost.
Amira saw her first.
Amira’s eyes widened.
Then her hand flew to her mouth.
Then she made a sound that wasn’t human.
“OH MY GOD.”
Jiawen froze mid-step.
Half the pod turned.
A heads-up motion.
Like meerkats.
Jiawen’s cheeks warmed.
“Amira,” she hissed, “why you–”
Amira bounded toward her and grabbed her hand.
Jiawen’s instinct was to snatch it back.
But the ring was already visible.
No point hiding the obvious.
Amira held Jiawen’s hand like she was presenting evidence in court.
“IT’S REAL,” Amira announced.
Jiawen’s stomach dropped.
Because now the ring wasn’t just on her finger.
It was on display.
“Put my hand down,” Jiawen begged under her breath.
Amira ignored her.
“Congrats!” Amira whispered loudly. “Wah, you two really did it!”
Jiawen tried to laugh casually.
“It’s just… ring,” she muttered.
Amira’s eyes glittered. “JUST ring?! You think ring grows on tree?”
Jiawen’s cheeks burned.
Across the aisle, Reza appeared as if summoned by the scent of chaos.
“Eh,” Reza said, eyes already locked on Jiawen’s hand. “Eh. EH.”
Jiawen closed her eyes.
Reza’s grin widened.
“I knew,” he announced.
Jiawen opened her eyes slowly.
“You know nothing,” she said.
Reza pointed at the ring like it had personally validated his life.
“I know vibes,” Reza said, smug. “I am a professional vibe reader.”
Jiawen glared. “You are a professional busybody.”
Reza clutched his chest. “Wah. Hurt.”
Amira cackled.
Somewhere behind them, someone whispered.
It spread fast.
Not malicious.
More like electricity moving through a wire.
People didn’t need details.
They had a ring.
That was enough.
Jiawen tugged her hand back gently.
Amira released it reluctantly.
Jiawen flexed her fingers as if she could shake off attention.
Reza leaned closer, eyes shining.
“So,” he whispered, “proposal how? I want full story.”
Jiawen stared at him.
Reza grinned. “I won’t tell anyone.”
Jiawen narrowed her eyes. “That’s a lie.”
Reza shrugged. “Okay lah. But… give me highlights.”
Jiawen took a breath.
“Dinner,” she said flatly.
Reza blinked. “That’s it?”
“Dinner,” Jiawen repeated.
Amira snorted.
Reza pouted. “Wah, you’re stingy.”
Jiawen leaned in, voice low, sweet.
“If you keep asking, I will escalate to HR.”
Reza recoiled dramatically. “Don’t threaten me with HR! I’m traumatised.”
Jiawen’s mouth twitched.
Then, without warning, the motion of the pod shifted again.
Faris arrived.
He walked in like he always did–calm, neat, collared shirt tucked, laptop bag hanging off one shoulder like it weighed nothing.
His expression was neutral.
But Jiawen saw it.
The way his eyes flicked to her hand.
The way his mouth tightened slightly as if he was checking she was okay.
He didn’t come over immediately.
He didn’t make it obvious.
Because this was still Meridian Harbor Systems.
Optics still existed.
HR still existed.
But he slowed as he passed.
Just enough.
His gaze met hers.
A small nod.
Jiawen’s chest warmed.
She nodded back.
Door deal.
We’re fine.
Reza saw the exchange and practically vibrated.
“Oooh,” Reza whispered.
Jiawen shot him a look that promised violence.
Reza held up both hands and walked away, grinning like he was going to explode from joy.
Amira leaned close and whispered, “Wah, he looks like he wants to fight everyone.”
Jiawen snorted. “That’s his love language.”
Amira laughed.
Then she looked at Jiawen’s ring again, softening.
“Seriously,” Amira murmured, “I’m happy for you.”
Jiawen’s throat tightened unexpectedly.
“Thanks,” she whispered.
Amira squeezed her shoulder once and returned to her desk.
The pod gradually resumed normal movement.
But Jiawen could feel eyes.
Not constantly.
Not predatory.
Curious.
And curiosity in an office was never just curiosity.
It became stories.
She sat at her desk and booted up her laptop.
Her inbox loaded.
Tasks.
Emails.
Jira.
Normal.
She tried to focus.
Then her Teams pinged.
A new message.
From a name she didn’t recognise.
Melvin Tan (New Joiner)
Hi Jiawen, I’m the new BA assigned to Meridian’s side for the next phase. Ms. Low asked me to reach out to you for handover. Are you free later?
Jiawen blinked.
New joiner.
Assigned to her.
Her stomach tightened–not fear, but awareness.
This was the mirror.
She had once been the new joiner.
The intern.
The one who didn’t know where to start.
Faris had been steady then.
He had taught her trackers.
He had taught her client language.
He had taught her how to survive late-day surprises.
Now, she was being asked to do the same.
Jiawen stared at her ring.
Then at the message.
She exhaled.
She typed:
Hi Melvin, welcome! Yes, I’m free 2pm. Let’s meet at Pod C, I’ll walk you through the trackers + comms logs. Don’t worry, it’s not scary.
She hit send.
Her chest warmed slightly.
Not because she enjoyed being responsible.
Because she could feel her growth in the act of offering steadiness.
She looked up.
Across the aisle, Faris was at his desk, typing.
He looked calm.
But Jiawen could tell.
He was watching her in the corner of his vision.
Not hovering.
Not controlling.
Just present.
She felt the urge to tease him.
She restrained it.
Professional.
Mostly.
At 11:30, she went to the pantry.
Not at 3:20.
Because she needed water.
Or maybe she needed the sensation of moving away from her desk so she could breathe.
The pantry was crowded.
People making coffee.
People talking.
People pretending not to look at her hand.
She filled her bottle and turned.
And nearly collided with someone.
A senior from another team.
“Eh, sorry,” Jiawen said automatically.
The senior looked at her, then at her hand.
His eyebrows lifted.
Then he smiled.
“Congrats,” he said casually.
Jiawen’s cheeks warmed.
“Thanks,” she replied.
The senior’s smile stayed.
“You and Faris, right?” he asked.
Jiawen’s stomach tightened.
Here it was.
The office’s imagination.
She kept her face calm.
“Yes,” she said.
The senior nodded slowly.
“Good for you,” he said, then lowered his voice slightly. “He’s a good guy.”
Jiawen blinked.
The senior shrugged as if he’d said something obvious.
“He helped me before,” he added. “Quietly. Didn’t make noise.”
Jiawen’s throat tightened.
“Yeah,” she whispered, soft.
The senior smiled, then stepped aside.
Jiawen walked back to her desk with water in her bottle and a strange warmth in her chest.
The office could imagine.
But sometimes, it also knew the truth.
Faris was steady.
Not just to her.
To people.
And that steadiness was why her parents had entrusted her to him.
The thought made her fingers curl around her bottle.
The ring felt heavier.
Not as a burden.
As a reminder.
At 2pm, Melvin arrived.
He looked young.
Not much older than Jiawen when she’d first started.
He stood at her desk with a polite smile, holding a notebook like it could protect him.
“Hi, Jiawen,” he said.
“Hi,” Jiawen replied, warm. “Welcome. You’re Melvin?”
He nodded quickly.
Jiawen gestured. “Come. Sit.”
She led him to a small meeting room–glass-walled, of course–because the office believed privacy was something you could do publicly.
She opened her laptop and pulled up the tracker.
Melvin leaned forward, eyes wide.
“Okay,” Jiawen said, voice calm. “This looks scary. It’s not. It’s just… too many columns.”
Melvin laughed nervously.
Jiawen began.
She explained how Meridian tracked client issues.
How comms logs worked.
How you spoke to stakeholders without sounding defensive.
How you documented things so people couldn’t twist stories.
As she spoke, she realised she sounded like Faris.
Not in tone.
In discipline.
She caught herself saying, “We do it properly,” and almost laughed.
Melvin nodded earnestly.
At the end, Melvin exhaled.
“Thank you,” he said, relieved. “I thought I was going to drown.”
Jiawen smiled softly.
“You won’t,” she said. “Just ask. Don’t struggle silently.”
Melvin nodded.
Then his eyes flicked to her hand.
The ring.
He blinked.
“Uh,” he said awkwardly, “congrats.”
Jiawen felt her cheeks warm.
“Thanks,” she replied.
Melvin smiled. “Sorry. Office is… talking.”
Jiawen’s mouth twitched.
“Of course,” she said.
Melvin hesitated.
Then he said quietly, “Faris is my lead, right?”
Jiawen nodded.
Melvin exhaled. “He’s intimidating.”
Jiawen blinked.
Then she laughed.
Faris.
Intimidating.
She almost wanted to defend him.
Instead, she chose truth.
“He’s not scary,” Jiawen said. “He’s just… serious about doing things right.”
Melvin nodded slowly.
Jiawen added, with a small smile, “He’s also secretly soft. But don’t tell him I said that.”
Melvin’s eyes widened.
Then he grinned.
“Okay,” he whispered like a conspirator.
Jiawen smiled.
She walked out of the meeting room feeling something she hadn’t expected.
Not stress.
Not fear.
Pride.
She had been useful.
Not because she was Faris’ fiancée.
Because she was competent.
And that competence was hers.
At 3:20, she went to the pantry.
This time, the routine was deliberate.
Not survival.
Celebration.
Faris was already there, leaning against the counter with a cup in his hand.
He didn’t look at his phone.
He looked at her.
“How was it?” he asked softly.
Jiawen blinked. “What?”
“The morning,” Faris clarified. “The… attention.”
Jiawen exhaled slowly.
“It was loud,” she admitted.
Faris’s jaw tightened slightly.
Jiawen watched his expression.
He looked like he wanted to fight the world for her again.
She reached out and bumped his elbow lightly.
“Stop,” she murmured.
Faris blinked.
Jiawen’s mouth twitched. “I’m okay. Amira screamed, Reza became a menace, and one random senior congratulated me like he was giving me an award. But…”
She paused.
Faris watched her.
Jiawen’s voice softened.
“But it felt… clean,” she admitted. “Like nobody can accuse me of hiding or playing. It’s just… real.”
Faris’s shoulders loosened slightly.
He nodded once.
“Good,” he said softly.
Jiawen stared at him.
Then she smiled.
“You know what’s funny?” she asked.
Faris’s mouth twitched. “What?”
Jiawen lifted her ringed hand slightly.
“I thought I would want to hide it,” she confessed. “But now… I don’t.”
Faris’s gaze softened.
He reached into his pocket without thinking.
The handkerchief.
Jiawen’s eyes widened.
“Eh,” she hissed, amused, “why you always have it?”
Faris blinked as if realising he’d been caught.
“It’s… habit,” he muttered.
Jiawen laughed.
Then she leaned closer, lowering her voice.
“Handsome HR,” she whispered.
Faris sighed, long suffering.
“Stop,” he murmured.
“Never,” Jiawen replied.
Faris’s eyes warmed.
Then his expression sobered slightly.
“Your parents okay?” he asked.
Jiawen’s chest tightened.
She thought of her mother’s bright smile.
Her father’s quiet hand on Faris’ shoulder.
The way they’d looked at Jiawen’s ring with pride.
“They’re okay,” she said softly. “They’re happy. They trust you.”
Faris’s throat moved.
He nodded once.
Jiawen watched him.
She could see it.
The responsibility sitting in his chest.
Not as pressure.
As honour.
Jiawen’s voice softened further.
“And your mother…” she began.
Faris inhaled.
Jiawen continued, “She said congratulations.”
Faris’s jaw tightened.
Not anger.
Emotion.
“She did,” Faris murmured.
Jiawen smiled faintly. “That’s a big thing for her, right?”
Faris nodded.
“It is,” he admitted.
Jiawen exhaled.
They stood in the pantry with coffee and fluorescent light and the hum of the refrigerator, and the world felt oddly ordinary.
Ordinary was good.
Ordinary meant the chaos was survivable.
Jiawen looked at Faris.
Then, because she couldn’t resist, she said, “So. When is our wedding?”
Faris froze.
His eyes widened slightly.
Jiawen laughed.
“Wah,” she teased. “Now you suddenly no plan?”
Faris exhaled, then glared at her. “Jiawen.”
Jiawen grinned. “I’m joking.”
Faris’s mouth tightened. “You’re not joking.”
Jiawen’s grin softened.
Faris shook his head slightly.
“Door deal,” he murmured.
Jiawen nodded.
“Door deal,” she echoed.
Faris’s voice softened.
“One step,” he said.
Jiawen’s eyes warmed.
“One step,” she repeated.
They stood there a moment longer.
Then Jiawen’s phone buzzed.
She didn’t flinch this time.
She glanced at it.
A message from her mother.
Did you eat? Don’t skip lunch. Ring doesn’t replace food.
Jiawen snorted.
Faris raised a brow. “What?”
Jiawen turned the screen toward him.
Faris’s mouth twitched.
“She’s right,” he said.
Jiawen stared. “You’re siding with her?”
Faris shrugged. “She’s logical.”
Jiawen groaned.
Faris’s eyes warmed.
He lifted his coffee cup slightly.
“To lunch,” he said.
Jiawen lifted hers.
“To not dying in office,” she replied.
Faris’s mouth twitched.
They clinked cups softly–plastic against plastic.
A ridiculous toast.
A perfect one.
As Jiawen walked back to her desk, she glanced down at her ring again.
It caught the fluorescent light and flashed.
Not like a trophy.
Like a promise.
And in the glass-walled world where love became gossip and gossip became policy, Jiawen realised something she hadn’t expected.
She wasn’t afraid of being seen anymore.
Because the thing on her finger wasn’t just a ring.
It was proof that she had been chosen.
Properly.
And she had chosen back.