Chapter 1
The spreadsheets for the new corporate partnership were perfect. I liked how balanced everything was—clean columns, predictable formulas, and data that didn't talk back.
"Well done, Kristine," Mr. Williams said, offering a rare, approving nod from across the desk. "Keep this up and you'll be promoted to a senior planner in no time."
"Thank you, Mr. Williams, I'll keep working hard," I replied, my voice holding the steady, professional tone I’d spent years perfecting. I tapped my tablet, pulling up the schedule I already knew by heart. "We'll be finalizing the contract with Mr. Aaron of Lex Tech Inc. tomorrow at 11:30, and then we have a meeting with Mr. Kerk from the design department at 12:20 to work on the production logistics."
"Perfect," he said, turning back to his own monitor. "I'm counting on you."
Yes, sir," I said with a slight nod.
I walked out of his office and back toward my desk, my mind already pivoting to the next task on my checklist.
"Ready to head home, Kris?" a cheery voice called out from the doorway.
It was Lynne. We had met during our first year of university as dorm roommates and had been inseparable for five years now. We worked at the same company, though her chaotic energy belonged to a completely different department.
I looked up, offering her an exhausted smile. "No, I still have to finalize tomorrow's schedule and map out the logistics for our next business venture. I'll likely be working overtime."
"Geez, you're going to die from overwork at this rate," Lynne said, shaking her head. Before I could protest, she hooked her arm through mine, practically pulling me toward the office cafeteria. "Come on, at least grab something to drink before you get started."
A few minutes later, she pressed a familiar, cold plastic cup into my hands. "Here's your boba, Miss Jones. I'll be on my way now—I have to fetch my brother on my way home. See you tomorrow!"
She waved over her shoulder, already rushing off toward the elevators. I watched her go, letting out a soft sigh. She was always all over the place, but as I took a sip of the drink, I had to admit her timing was impeccable.
I sat back down at my desk and focused on the immediate tasks. First, I locked in tomorrow’s schedule. Once the timeline was set, I began drafting the handover notes and strict guidelines for the design department to follow during production. Everything needed to be foolproof.
I was just opening a fresh file to evaluate our next business venture when my colleague, Molly, approached my desk holding a cup of Americano.
"Oh, Kristine, you're working overtime too?" Molly said, her voice laced with relief. "Thank goodness. I was planning on discussing tomorrow's schedule with you."
I looked up over the top of my computer monitor. "What about tomorrow's schedule?"
"The problem is, Mrs. Miller from the finance department is saying there's an issue with the production budget."
"What?" I frowned, an exhausted expression crossing my face as I barely managed to hide my displeasure. "Why would there be a problem? Who sent the quota to her in the first place?"
"Ah... about that. It was Zayn," Molly said, looking thoroughly guilty.
"Zayn Bolton?" I stared at her, completely speechless for a moment before I managed to mutter, "Unbelievable."
Fucking hell. I couldn't believe they had actually trusted that incompetent bastard with a financial quota.
"Molly," I said, leaning back in my chair and pinching the bridge of my nose to stave off an oncoming headache. "The best Zayn can do around here is run errands. Why would you give him something that critical?"
"I'm sorry, but my plate was completely full," she pleaded, looking visibly stressed. "I even gave him pointers. I really thought he'd pull it off this time."
"Whatever," I sighed, cutting through the excuses. "You'll have to go down to the finance department first thing in the morning and fix that quota before 11:30. I'm done with my own workload for the day, so I'll be leaving. See you tomorrow."
I didn't wait for a response. I packed my bag, grabbed my boba, and headed down the corridor toward the elevators.
I stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the basement parking lot. The doors slid shut with a soft, metallic click, sealing me inside the quiet, mirrored box. I finally let my shoulders drop, leaning back against the handrail as the elevator began its smooth, vertical descent.
Pulling the boba straw to my lips, I took a long, slow sip. The cool, familiar sweetness was the exact grounding mechanism I needed after the overstimulating mess Molly and Zayn had just dumped on my lap. It baffled me how adults with university degrees could still operate like loose gears in a machine, constantly relying on someone else to tighten their screws. If I didn't set strict boundaries, people like that would gladly consume every ounce of my time and energy, leaving me hollowed out by their avoidable crises.
Ding.
The electronic chime echoed in the small space as the digital display blinked down past the ground floor.
I closed my eyes for a brief second, tracking the numbers in my head. Three, two, one, basement. My workday was officially over. The contract logistics were locked in, Molly’s problem was a tomorrow-problem, and my only remaining objective for the evening was to drive home, step into my own orderly space, and completely disconnect from the world. No unexpected drama, no heavy conversations, and absolutely no chaos.
The elevator ground to a gentle halt, and the heavy metal doors slid open, exposing the dim, concrete expanse of the underground parking lot. I took one last deep breath of the quiet air, completely unaware that the peace I had just calculated so perfectly was about to be shattered.
I glanced at my watch before stepping out of the elevator. Oh? It’s only been two hours?
The moment I walked into the underground parking lot, a hoarse, frustrated, and thoroughly exhausted voice shattered the silence, shouting from a distance. What the hell? Why is he being so loud in an echoing space like this? I already had a pulsing headache. Seriously, what a chaotic day.
As I walked closer to the source, the words became clearer. He was arguing as if his life depended on it. Ah, he’s fighting with his partner, huh? How troublesome. If a relationship is already that toxic, why even hold on? Seriously.
I kept walking, only to freeze when I realized the noise was coming from the vehicle parked directly next to mine. Oh, great. He’s been parked next to me this entire time.
But as I got a clear look at him, my breath hitched. Wait... wasn't that Aaron Gray from Lex Tech Inc.? Why was he still here?
"I told you, I don't personally know who Tiffany is!" Aaron yelled into his phone, his voice raw. He roughly untied his tie with one hand, leaning against his car with an unlit cigarette resting between his lips. "How many times do I have to tell you she was just a client I worked with on a project? Why are you always this paranoid—especially when you were the one who cheated?!"
He listened for a fraction of a second more before his jaw tightened. "We'll talk when I get home."
He ended the call abruptly, letting his hand drop to his side. An embarrassed, deeply humiliated, yet entirely exhausted expression washed over his face.
I shook my head, unlocking my car with a crisp beep. I couldn't stop the thought from slipping out of my mouth. "Would you rather suffer in an unhappy and unhealthy relationship than just be single? Honestly, why would anyone put up with that kind of treatment?"
Aaron flinched, turning his head to look at me in shock.
Sigh. Why did I just say that?
Before I could stop myself, I rummaged through my bag, reached into my wallet, and pulled out a small, heavy piece of cardstock. It was a business card that read Safe Space Therapy.
I extended my hand, offering it to him with a quiet, sympathetic expression. "Here. At least see someone. That way, you might actually start to feel a little better."
Aaron stared at the card for a moment before slowly reaching out to take it. He slipped it into his trouser pocket. "Thanks," he muttered, a tired, defeated smile touching his lips. "And sorry... for showing you such a sight."
"Yeah, it happens," I replied softly, opening my car door. "See you tomorrow, Mr. Gray."
I got into the driver's seat, pulled out of the bay, and drove away into the evening traffic.
No, seriously, why was I poking my nose in someone else's business just now? I gripped the steering wheel, my face heating up with sudden shock. Normally, I would have rushed straight to my car while pretending I was completely deaf. That was so weird.
I drove all the way back home, the radio playing softly in the background as I pondered why on earth I had acted so completely out of line today.
By the time I pulled into my driveway, the exhaustion had fully settled into my bones. Sigh. What should I have for supper? I honestly missed my mom’s cooking. It was far too late for takeout, so I decided to keep it simple: a quick sandwich, a hot shower, and bed.
After eating, I washed off the grime and stress of the day, changed into my favorite pajamas, and threw myself face-first onto the mattress.
I rolled over, staring up at the dark, quiet ceiling as the silence of my apartment wrapped around me. My mind drifted back to the parking lot, back to his desperate, painful argument.
I closed my eyes as a cold weight settled in my chest. Maybe... maybe his conversation just reminded me too much of that day.
