38
It had been a few weeks since Amanda first showed Ericka her sketches.
A few months since she walked into the office for the first time, nerves bouncing in her stomach and heels just a little too stiff.
She remembered that version of herself—unsure, hyper-aware of every breath around her, hoping she'd be good enough, fast enough, sharp enough.
And now?
Now, Amanda moved through the office like she belonged.
Because she did.
The morning buzz had already taken hold as she stepped off the elevator—keyboards clacking, phones ringing, design boards being shuffled from one meeting room to the next. Amanda walked with her usual confidence: tablet in one hand, an oversized coffee in the other, hair pinned neatly, eyes alert.
She stopped briefly to answer a quick question from one of the junior assistants, offered a few suggestions to the marketing team on their product display layout, and gave a quick nod to a photographer who had just arrived for the afternoon shoot.
Her role had evolved.
People noticed her now—not just as Ericka's assistant, but as someone who got things done. Who made the chaos make sense.
And quietly, Amanda was learning how to lead.
She made it to her desk and sank into her chair with a soft sigh. The inbox was already overflowing, the calendar was packed, and she still hadn't finished reviewing the fabric shipment delays. But none of it phased her. She rolled up her sleeves—literally and mentally—and got to work.
Halfway through scheduling the final fittings for the spring preview, she glanced at the top corner of her screen.
Dinner with Ericka – 7:00 PM
It wasn't on the public calendar. But it was there. Always was.
Subtle. Unspoken. The quiet part of their rhythm.
They hadn't labeled what this was, but they didn't need to.
Amanda knew what it felt like.
It felt like trust.
It felt like care.
After hours, when the work was done and the suits were traded for sweatshirts, they existed in a space that was all their own. Quiet dinners. Shared laughter. Nights on the couch, or sometimes just silence that didn't need to be filled.
It was slow. Intentional. Real.
Amanda smiled faintly to herself, refocusing as she finished inputting notes from yesterday's product meeting. She was reviewing the distribution numbers when a familiar voice cut through her concentration.
"You've got a minute?"
Amanda looked up.
Ericka stood just outside her office, arms relaxed at her sides, her black sleeveless blouse tucked into soft gray slacks, hair neatly swept back in a low bun. Her face was composed—every inch of her back in CEO mode.
Amanda stood immediately, grabbing her tablet. "Of course."
She followed Ericka into the office. The door closed behind them with a soft click.
Ericka moved toward the window, pausing there as she looked out over the city. She always did that when her mind was full—when she needed a second to arrange her thoughts before sharing them.
"I'm putting you in charge of the spring campaign shoot," she said, her voice smooth and even. "Full coordination. I want you handling it—models, stylists, production, timelines, everything."
Amanda froze for half a second, blinking. "Wait... you want me to run it?"
Ericka turned to face her then, leaning slightly against the edge of her desk. "You've already been doing the work behind the scenes. This just makes it official."
Amanda's mouth opened slightly, words caught somewhere between shock and excitement. "That's—wow. I mean, thank you. I won't let you down."
Ericka's eyes softened just a bit. "I know you won't. You haven't yet."
Amanda smiled, but there was something more than pride swelling in her chest. Ericka didn't hand out responsibility easily. She was precise, meticulous, almost annoyingly hands-on with anything tied to the brand. And for her to hand Amanda this?
That meant something.
"I've started sketching again," Amanda said suddenly, her voice a bit softer. "I'm not saying I'm ready to jump into design, but... being around all this, it's waking something up in me."
Ericka studied her for a moment, then nodded once. "Good. Keep feeding that part of you."
Amanda blinked. "You're really not going to tell me to focus on admin?"
Ericka smirked faintly. "No. Because you can do both. And because I see you, Amanda. I always have."
Amanda didn't know what to say to that. Not at first.
So she didn't.
She just gave a quiet smile and nodded, clutching her tablet a little closer to her chest.
"I'll start pulling everything for the shoot today," she said after a moment. "You'll have a full timeline by tomorrow morning."
"Perfect," Ericka said, already reaching for her coffee. "Try not to terrify the new stylists."
Amanda laughed on her way out. "No promises."
As she returned to her desk, heart still buzzing, she caught her reflection in the black surface of her tablet.
Same face. Same sharp eyes. Same work ethic.
But she was different now.
Not just the assistant.
Not just someone playing it safe.
She was building something—brick by brick, sketch by sketch, moment by moment.
With Ericka beside her.
And maybe... just maybe...
This was the beginning of the life she hadn't even known she wanted.