Unassumed Hurdle

With a sigh that carried a mix of frustration and resignation, he muttered to himself, the sound a private outlet for his emotions, his pride smarting from the recent humiliation he had endured.

As his fingers deftly smoothed the sheets, making the bed with mechanical precision, he processed the conflicting feelings that churned within him. 

Amid the flurry of his thoughts, Melvin's phone buzzed with a reminder that cut through the haze. The text message illuminated his screen, a stark reminder of his obligation to be present at the office that day—his own office.

 "Oh, how can I forget that," he berated himself, his palm meeting his forehead in a light slap that resonated with a mixture of surprise. He hastened to get ready.

Rushing through his preparations, Melvin arrived at his office with a sense of urgency coursing through his veins. He had taken the effort to dress smartly, a crisp white shirt neatly tucked into his black pants.

 A smile adorned his lips, a clear reflection of his inner contentment. His gaze fell upon the towering office building, its grand mirrored walls facing him in all their splendor. 

Memories surged forth, reminding him of the times when he used to visit alongside his father. He couldn't help but recall the inevitable clashes they'd had, his dad urging him to join their family business, while he showed more interest in partying and clubbing.

His gaze then shifted from his own image to the towering building before him, a monolith of glass and steel that housed his office. 

But Melvin shook off the weight of those old regrets, his steps firm and resolute as he traversed the familiar terrain.

Pushing past the old regrets and memories, he made his way inside, stepping up the stair as he approached the grand entrance of the building.

A smile of recognition illuminated his features as he spotted the guard, a familiar face in this setting. But that smile was swiftly replaced by an unexpected twist of reality.

"Where are you entering? Stop here," the guard's voice carried a tone of authority as he extended his stick, effectively barring Melvin's path into the building.

Confusion etched itself onto Melvin's face, his brows furrowing as he stared at the guard in disbelief. Why was this happening? Did the guard somehow forget who he was, whose entrance he was preventing?

"Why? What happened?" Melvin's question emerged, laced with a mix of surprise and frustration. He sought an explanation, his mind struggling to comprehend the sudden obstacle.

"You can't go inside," the guard's response was direct, devoid of any elaboration.

More than his words, it was the demeanor of the guard that stung. The way he stood and spoke felt like an affront, a painful reminder of his place and standing.

 Melvin felt a pang of hurt, as if he were being treated like a trespasser or an unwanted guest. This interaction felt akin to someone stopping a beggar from entering a prestigious establishment, a feeling that clashed starkly with his memories of free access to this very building.

"But why? Have you forgotten who I am?" He queried, crossing his arms over his chest, a flash of his authoritative persona resurfacing.

"Your entrance to this building is forbidden. I cannot permit you to go inside," the guard's words were steadfast, and Melvin couldn't help but discern a trace of self-satisfaction in his tone. It was a reality check he wasn't prepared for – those who once avoided meeting his gaze were now addressing him with a newfound sense of authority.

"Are you kidding me, right!?" Melvin's disbelief was palpable, his question laden with a mix of incredulity and urgency, hoping for a chance that this was all just a misunderstanding.

"No. Your grandfather gave us clear instructions not to allow your entry into the building!" The guard's assertion carried a firmness that was hard to ignore.

A wave of uncertainty clouded Melvin's expression as he looked at the guard, his mind grappling with the implications of what he was hearing. 

His own grandfather, the one who had recently reached out and extended an invitation for him to return, was now seemingly responsible for this barricade. Confusion knit his brows together, and he found himself struggling to make sense of this unexpected turn of events. 

Why would his grandfather, who had reached out just days ago, enact such a drastic measure now? The question lingered, shrouded in bewilderment and uncertainty.

"Let me call him," he muttered, his voice carrying the frustration he felt, loud enough for the guard to hear.

He retrieved his phone from his pocket, fingers dancing across the screen as he dialed his grandfather's number. If this was some kind of intentional attempt to publicly demean him, Melvin vowed he wouldn't easily forgive such a gesture.

"Hello," a shaky yet familiar voice greeted him from the other end.

"Do you really intend to humiliate me or what?" Melvin's words were a mix of accusation and exasperation, the simmering anger palpable in his tone.

"Hold on, what happened? Why are you behaving this way!" his grandfather's voice questioned, a blend of concern and confusion evident in his response.

Amid the tension that lingered in the air, Melvin poured out his frustration and hurt to his grandfather, explaining in detail how the guard had insulted him by barring his entrance to the building.

 He recounted the exchange with a mixture of anger and bewilderment, his words an outlet for the flood of emotions he was experiencing.

As he spoke, he could sense his grandfather's voice growing quieter, as if he was absorbing every word with intense concentration. When Melvin had finished venting his feelings, there was a brief pause on the line before his grandfather spoke.

"Melvin, I had no idea this was happening," his grandfather's voice held a mix of regret and concern. "I want you to hang up the call for now. I'll look into this matter immediately and get back to you."

Reluctantly, Melvin complied, ending the call with a sense of unresolved tension hanging in the air. The weight of the situation remained heavy on his shoulders, a potent blend of anger, hurt, and confusion.

 As he stood there, his gaze fixed on the mirrored facade of the building, he couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to this situation than met the eye.

After a while, the building's manager, William, dashed out of the entrance with a sense of urgency, his brows furrowed with displeasure. He swiftly approached the guard who had caused the commotion, his voice carrying a furious tone that resonated in the air.

"Have you lost your senses?" William's words were a sharp reprimand, his face flushed with anger. "Why are you stopping Mr. Melvin from entering? Do you want to get fired?" His frustration was evident, the chastisement directed at the guard clear and uncompromising.

"Sir... I... I was just following orders," the guard's voice quivered, his response tinged with a mix of anxiety and defense.

"What orders? Who gave you this bloody order? That was in the past," William's tone was incisive, cutting through the guard's feeble justification. He then turned his attention toward Melvin, his demeanor shifting from anger to conciliation.

"Sorry for the inconvenience. Please come in," William's words were now imbued with politeness, a stark contrast to the earlier scene.

Melvin straightened his posture, a flicker of pride crossing his expression as he adjusted the collar of his shirt. This incident had triggered a need to assert his reputation, a desire to uphold the respect he believed he deserved. 

With his head held high, he followed the manager into the building, every step resonating with a renewed sense of purpose. As he crossed the threshold, he couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions, relief, vindication, and a quiet satisfaction that he had overcome an unexpected hurdle.