Page 37 of Grumpy Orc CEO

For now, it's all I can do to keep moving forward, one step at a time, hoping I'll find clarity somewhere along the way. Each day feels like a delicate dance between holding onto my past and daring to dream of a future with him.

Maybe someday I'll muster the courage to tear down these walls and let someone in. Until then, I'll just have to keep putting one foot in front of the other, praying that the path ahead will somehow become clearer.

CHAPTER 21

Jarvin

Elara showing up unannounced gave me the chance to realize my feelings for Lucy have grown deeper than just my initial interest in her. It’s the way she carries herself and has let me get a glimpse of the woman behind her walls and vulnerabilities.

When Elara walked into my office unannounced with that look in her eyes, all I could think about was getting her out so I could get to lunch with Lucy. Instead, something must have happened because Lucy started to pull away right when things were finally feeling good between us.

Lucy’s behavior shifts subtly at first, but I notice. It starts with her declining our usual lunch dates. “Got busy,” she says, not meeting my eyes. The next day, it’s a deadline she’s scrambling to meet. I can’t help but feel the sting of her absence. The easy rhythm we’d found is offbeat now, and I can’t ignore it.

Our conversations become stilted, strained. She answers in clipped sentences, her tone distant. Every excuse she gives feels like another brick in the wall she’s building back up between us. My instincts flare, bristling at the lack of clarity. What happened to the woman who laughed at my jokes and shared her stories so freely?

I try to push down the frustration gnawing at me. She has her reasons, I tell myself. But damn it, I need to know what they are.

What went wrong? What did I do? I have no idea what the hell happened for her to suddenly freeze me out like this.

Back in my office, I pace restlessly, replaying every interaction in my mind. There’s something she’s not telling me, something deeper than work stress or tight deadlines.

I can’t stand being shut out like this, not when we were finally getting somewhere real. My instincts scream at me to confront her again, demand answers—but I know that approach could push her further away.

As the days pass, Lucy’s avoidance only fuels my determination to break through whatever barrier she’s erected between us. Each time our paths cross in the office, each brief interaction feels like a test of my resolve.

I will find out what’s going on with her. For now, though, all I can do is wait and watch for an opening—a chance to get back to the connection we shared before everything went sideways.

I send Lucy a message: “Hey, everything okay? We haven’t had lunch in a while. Let’s talk.” I wait, staring at my phone, but the screen remains stubbornly blank. Minutes turn into hours, and still, no response.

The next day, I try again: “Lucy, if something’s bothering you, I’d like to help. Can we chat?” The message shows as read, but she doesn’t reply. The silence feels like a slap in the face. What the hell happened?

In the office, I make several attempts to catch her. “Lucy, got a minute?” I call out as she passes by my office door.

“Sorry, I’m swamped with work,” she says without looking up, her pace quickening.

Another time, I find her in the break room. “Lucy,” I start, but she’s already gathering her things.

“I’ve got to get back to my desk,” she mutters, brushing past me before I can say more.

Each encounter leaves me more frustrated and confused. The complete avoidance gnaws at me. My natural inclination is to confront issues head-on—get everything out in the open and deal with it—but I know I can’t force her to talk. Forcing the issue might only push her further away.

The lack of control over the situation is infuriating. Here I am, Jarvin Thraknar, CEO of a major financial group—used to commanding rooms and making decisions that impact hundreds of lives—yet I’m helpless when it comes to one woman’s silence.

My patience wears thin as days stretch into weeks with no change. Each time our eyes meet across the office floor, and she quickly looks away, it feels like a punch to the gut.

I draft a message: “Lucy, please. We need to talk.” But before hitting send, I delete it. Clearly, messaging isn’t working.

Back in my office, I grip the edge of my desk until my knuckles ache. This distance between us is unbearable. I can’t keep pacing this damn room or second-guessing every interaction we’ve had. Something has to give soon because this silent treatment is driving me insane.

Yet here I am, stuck in this maddening limbo where my every instinct screams for action but every logical thought warns restraint.

I sit in my office, staring at the reports Lucy handed me days ago. The words blur together, meaningless against the backdrop of my thoughts. How did we go from those warm, shared lunches to this cold, silent distance?

I flip through the pages absently, my mind drifting back to our last positive interaction. She had laughed at one of my jokes, her eyes lighting up in a way that made everything else fade into the background. The memory is a painful contrast to the strained encounters we've had since then.

Did I do something to upset her? The question gnaws at me. I replay every conversation, every look, every touch, searching for clues. Was it something I said? Something I did?

My frustration mounts, but alongside it is a pang of empathy. I remember the vulnerability she shared with me about her past. The walls she built around herself didn’t appear overnight; they were constructed from hurt and betrayal.

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