That’s when I understand. That’s when the humiliation fully arrives, sharp and complete, because the room is silent now, and everyone is staring, their expressions ranging from shock to amusement to judgement.
Amanda’s glare pins me in place, cold and furious.
I stop moving, napkins crumpled in my fist, my hand hovering like I’ve forgotten what to do with it. I don’t know what possessed me. I don’t know why I didn’t think. Somewhere deep in my brain, muscle memory kicked in, my body defaulting to the same automatic response I would’ve had four years ago, when we were still together and helping him was instinct, not a mistake.
Heat erupts across my face, volcanic and unforgiving, as my gaze drops to the coffee seeping into Jake’s expensive slacks. “S-sorry,” I stammer, the word thin and useless. Then I bolt out of the room, sprinting down the hallway toward the only sanctuary I can think of—the women’s bathroom.
In the stall, I sink down and bury my face in my hands, the silence here somehow louder than the conference room ever was. Did I just…pat dry his crotch in front of everyone? Nausea rolls through me, my stomach turning like I’ve swallowed something toxic. This is a disaster. The worst possible thing that could’ve happened on my first day.
A gentle knock on the door breaks through my spiraling thoughts. “Sarah? You okay?”
It’s Wendy, her voice laced with genuine concern.
I take a deep breath and open the door to step out.
“That was…unexpected,” she says, her expression sympathetic. “I think you’re famous now.”
I groan. “This is not how I pictured my first day.”
Her expression turns ponderous. “Why’d you do that to him, though?”
“I don’t know…muscle memory?” The words tumble out before I can catch them, slipping free and betraying a history I’d meant to keep buried, sealed, forgotten.
Wendy tilts her head. “What do you mean?”
I sigh. “Can you keep a secret?”
“Of course.”
“Jake…he’s my ex.”
Her eyes widen and her mouth parts before she says, “No way!”
“Way,” I say, cringing at the memory of my hands on his thighs.
“What happened?”
“I’d rather not talk about it,” I say quickly, because the memories are still tender in the worst way, still carrying their ache despite the years. “This is supposed to be my dream job,” I add, “but it’s turning into a nightmare.”
Wendy reaches out and fixes a strand of my hair that’s fallen out of place, pushing it behind my ear with a gentle touch. “Don’tlet your past dictate your future. Start fresh. We’ll figure this out together.”
Her words, surprisingly, act like a balm on my frazzled nerves.
Back in the conference room, the meeting wraps up with unsettling efficiency, like everyone is pretending nothing happened. But they won’t look at me. Most people avoid eye contact, their gazes darting away as if my humiliation could spread to them with a single glance.
Amanda smirks as she walks past. “Quite the first impression.”
I just want to go home and hide under my bedsheets for approximately one hundred years.
As we leave the office, Wendy hooks her arm through mine. “Enough excitement for one day?”
“I think I need a vacation already.”
Waiting for the elevator, I can’t stop one thought from circling in my head: no matter what I accomplish here, no matter how hard I work or how brilliant I am, I’ll always be remembered as the new girl who baptized her boss’s pants.
I’m halfway to my apartment building, my dignity still soaking in Jake’s coffee-stained pants, when I hear him call out behind me.
“Sarah, wait!”
