Chapter 49
The office was buzzing when I walked in, but that wasn't unusual. Weekdays were always loud, coffee cups cluttering desks, the low hum of phones and keyboards and too many conversations happening at once. I made it to my cubicle without incident, set my bag down, and opened my laptop.
The tulips were already there. Fresh. White. A small card propped against the vase.
I smiled, I couldn't stop myself. I realised I was smiling, pressed my lips together, and shoved the card into my drawer with the others. But the warmth stayed in my chest like the remnants of an ink stain on a white shirt.
The morning passed without anything remarkable.
I answered emails, attended a quick meeting about the Johnson project, and tried not to think about the fact that Caspian would be waiting for me tonight.
The thought used to make me anxious but now it just makes me...
calm. Settled. Like something had clicked into place that I hadn't known was loose.
I didn't notice Anne until she was standing at my desk.
"Elera."
Her voice was different, harder than usual. Her usual syrupy sweetness was gone, replaced by something brittle and sharp. I looked up, and for a moment, I didn't recognize her. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her jaw tight, her hands clenched at her sides. She looked like she hadn't slept.
"Can I help you?" I asked.
Her nostrils flared. "Don't act like you don't know."
I blinked. "Know what?"
"Oliver."
She spat his name like a curse. "He's been different lately. Distant. He looks at you when he thinks I'm not watching. He compares me to you. He told me I'm not... that I don't..."
Her voice cracked, and she swallowed hard.
"I saw you two together yesterday. In the parking lot.
Talking like you two are a happy couple.
I opened my mouth to explain, to tell her that Oliver had approached me, not the other way around, that I had told him no, that I didn't want him back. But Anne kept going, her voice rising.
"You think you're so special, don't you? With your mysterious flowers and your secret admirer and your perfect little life. You think you're better than me."
People were staring now. Heads turned, conversations stopped, and the whole office seemed to hold its breath.
"I never said that." I said quietly.
"You didn't have to." Her laugh was bitter, ugly.
"You've always been like this. Always the victim. Poor Elera, whose boyfriend cheated on her. Poor Elera, whose best friend betrayed her. You love playing the victim card but you're not a victim, are you? You're just waiting. Biding your time.
Making sure everyone feels sorry for you while you plot your revenge."
She was scared.
Not of me, but of losing, of being left behind.
Oliver had been distant lately. I had noticed the way his gaze lingered on me during meetings, the way he seemed to deflate whenever Anne called his name.
She had noticed it too. She had seen us together, Oliver and me, standing in the parking lot while he apologized for everything he had done.
She had probably been watching from a window, her nails digging into her palms, her chest burning with the kind of jealousy that ate you alive.
And now she was here, lashing out, because she didn't know what else to do.
I stood up slowly. "Anne, I don't know what you think is going on, but-"
"I know exactly what's going on." She stepped closer, and I could see the desperation in her eyes, the need to believe that I was the villain, because if I wasn't, then she had no one to blame but herself.
"You're sleeping with someone rich, aren't you? That's where the flowers come from. That's why you moved to that fancy building. You found yourself a sugar daddy, and now you think you're above everyone else."
The word sugar daddy landed like a slap. I felt my face go hot, but not from embarrassment. From anger.
She was hurting. That didn't excuse what she had done to me. It didn't excuse any of it. But standing there, watching her fall apart in the middle of the lobby, I understood something I hadn't before.
Anne had never been my enemy. She had been a woman who wanted what I had, who couldn't stand that I had it and she didn't, who had spent years pretending to be my friend while secretly hoping I would fail. And now that I wasn't failing, now that I was actually happy, she couldn't contain it anymore.
"Anne," Sienna's voice cut through the tension like a blade. She was standing at the edge of the crowd, her arms crossed, her expression cold. "That's enough."
Anne spun around. "This doesn't concern you."
"Everything that happens in my department concerns me."
Sienna stepped forward, her heels clicking on the floor, and the crowd parted for her like the sea.
"You are making a scene. You are disturbing my staff. And you are accusing a colleague of something you have no proof of, based entirely on your own insecurities."
Anne's face went red. "I'm not-"
"You are." Sienna tilted her head, studying Anne like she was a bug under a microscope.
Anne's mouth opened, then closed.
"Now." Sienna said, her voice dropping to something cold and final, "you can either go back to your desk and pretend this didn't happen, or you can take the rest of the day off and think about whether you want to continue working here. Your choice."
Anne stood there for a moment, trembling, her eyes darting from Sienna to me to the crowd of watching faces. Then she turned and walked away, her shoulders hunched, her footsteps fast and uneven.
The crowd dispersed slowly, whispers trailing behind them like smoke. I stood there, my hands shaking, my heart pounding, and I didn't know what to do with myself.
Sienna caught my eye. She didn't smile, she didn't offer comfort. She just nodded once, like she was saying you're welcome, and walked back to her office.
My hands were still shaking as I sat down. I pressed them flat against my desk and tried to breathe.
The rest of the day passed in a haze.
I answered emails, attended meetings, revised presentations.
My body was at my desk, but my mind was somewhere else, replaying Anne's words, Sienna's intervention, the way Anne's hands had been shaking when she talked about Oliver.
Her accusations. It stung. But more than hurt, it was disappointment.
Was she always like this? Had she always harboured these feelings when we're friends, when I thought of her as a family, for all those years?
How could I not notice it? Why did I not notice it? Really, love does make a person blind.
She was jealous. That was all. She had built her entire life around being better than me, and now she was realizing that she wasn't. Oliver didn't love her. Not the way she thought he had loved me. Not the way he thought he did.
And that wasn't my problem.
By the time I packed my bag to leave, I was exhausted. Not only from the work but from everything.
I walked out of the building, my shoulders slumped, my eyes on the ground. I didn't look up when I reached the sidewalk. I didn't look for his car. I just started walking.
"Elera."
I stopped as his voice came through.
He was standing by the curb, his hands in his pockets, his eyes on me. I hadn't noticed him, I hadn't even looked. I was lost in my own world.
"You okay?" he asked.
I wanted to say yes. I wanted to smile and nod and pretend that everything was fine. But I was too tired, too drained. And it was Caspian who was asking.
"Rough day..." I said.
I was grateful that he didn't ask for details, that he didn't push. He just fell into step beside me and started walking.
We didn't talk. We didn't touch. But his presence was there, solid and steady, and something in my chest began to loosen.
I had people who wanted me. I had people who chose me. Not because they had to. Not because they felt guilty. Because they wanted to.
Sienna had stood up for me. Caspian was walking beside me. And maybe that was enough.
Maybe he was enough.
He was still the same man. The one who had cooked for me and held me while I cried and let me hit him when he was being shameless.
The one who remembered how I took my coffee, the one who had slept on my too small couch, the one who had kissed my mornings better and filled my apartment with tulips and followed me home every night just to make sure I was safe.
His profession didn't change that. His secrets didn't change that. He was still him.
And I was still me.
I didn't say anything. I just walked, my shoulder brushing against his arm, and let the silence settle between us like a promise.
Maybe I could do this. Maybe I could accept him.
All of him.