Tim’s left eye twitches, a small involuntary spasm that betrays his irritation more clearly than words could. His shoulders stiffen beneath his expensive but poorly fitted suit jacket.
“You must be the one who turned him that way...” His voice drops further, becoming almost a purr. “The one that got away and short-circuited his natural impulses.”
Hot anger flares behind my ribs, intense and dangerous. A dozen retorts line up on my tongue, accusations about his own character and the sabotage I suspect he’s planning, but I keep them contained.
“Jake knows what matters most,” I say instead, meeting his gaze, “and his heart follows true, even when the path isn’t easy.”
Tim scoffs and plucks a cup from the cardboard holder with two fingers, as if touching something distasteful. “We’ll see how far that gets him.”
Unable to stomach another second in his toxic presence, I pivot away and push the glass door open with my elbow. The conversation inside evaporates instantly, like morning dewunder a sudden heat wave. Keyboards that had been clacking furiously moments before fall silent mid-stroke. Eyes dart away from me, everyone pretending to be fascinated with anything else in the room.
Setting the cup holder on the conference table, I plaster what I hope passes for a friendly smile across my face. “Coffee’s here.”
Amanda’s hand shoots out first, snatching her mocha latte. Not a thank you, not a nod, not even the customary sneer she reserves just for me. With her mission of warning Tim of my assignment accomplished, she exits the office under the pretense of leaving us to our work.
But her icy dismissal creates a template the others hurriedly follow. When people avoid eye contact this aggressively, you’d think I had something contagious.
One by one, they collect their drinks in an orchestrated ballet of rudeness that sends a clear message: I don’t belong here. Their unanimous cold shoulder stings more than it should, considering these aren’t exactly people whose approval I crave.
Bringing coffee was supposed to thaw the ice a little—a peace offering, an olive branch extended—but their attitude seems to have worsened since I came back.
If their master plan involves making me quit through sheer ostracism, they’ve severely underestimated my stubbornness. I won’t just walk away because people are mean to me. The more they push, the more determined I become to uncover whatever scheme Tim and Amanda are hatching.
My fingers curl around the remaining cup, its heat seeping into my palms as I retreat to my designated exile spot—a chair tucked so far from the group it might as well be in the adjacent office. The isolation feels juvenile, like middle school lunch tables all over again. They’ve positioned me just close enough to fulfill Judy’s mandate that I’m on the team, but far enough that I can’t possibly glimpse anything revealing.
With his back half-turned to me, Tim hammers away at his laptop, each keystroke aggressive and deliberate. His attention rarely shifts to the group discussion, which makes me wonder what’s so important that it requires constant typing. An email to Amanda, perhaps? A detailed blueprint for operation Destroy-Jake’s-Career? Whatever conspiracy they’re plotting, I intend to unravel it thread by thread.
I might as well be a piece of furniture here—a decorative plant they’ve forgotten to water. They talk around me, over me, through me. It’s as if I’m encased in my own invisible sound-proof bubble while they freely exchange ideas, jokes, and campaign strategies in a circle that deliberately excludes me.
Professional exclusion I can understand—office politics is a blood sport. But basic human decency? The small acknowledgments that remind us we’re working with people, not robots? That shouldn’t be too much to ask from alleged adults with college degrees.
When Tim finally stands and approaches, my heart rate spikes. “Sarah, I have a task for you to complete,” he announces, his voice carrying just enough volume to silence the room. “I sent you three graphics that need improvement and implementation in our proposal. Have them completed by the end of day.”
There it is. My first foothold.
Regardless of his intentions, I’ll transform this opportunity into my advantage. Outstanding work might force them to reconsider their freeze-out strategy.
I return to my desk and sink into my chair. The email from Tim loads, revealing graphics that are technically adequate but emotionally flat—serviceable but soulless. My fingers work swiftly, cropping edges, refining layouts, sharpening key details to bring them closer to what this campaign deserves. These aren’t the visuals I would have chosen—they lack the resonanceI’d build to highlight the brand’s essence—but my improvements make them sing a clearer note.
After a final inspection to ensure everything is properly attached, I hit send with the satisfaction of a job well done, a tiny bridge erected over troubled waters.
With my computer powering down, I stretch my arms overhead, tension uncoiling from my shoulders. Finally, mercifully, this endless day concludes. As I massage the stiffness from my neck, my phone vibrates with Wendy’s message:I just heard you were put on Tim’s team. Is everything okay?
It’s a disaster, I reply, the words barely scratching the surface of this hellscape.
Wendy’s response comes quickly, inviting me to visit the other branch’s killer café so we can catch up properly.
Yes, please, I text back. Anything to escape this frigid wasteland, even temporarily. Not only do I miss Wendy’s warmth in this arctic office climate, but there’s also a chance—a hope I shouldn’t nurture but can’t help feeding—that I might glimpse Jake. His apartment on the third floor has stood silent as a tomb since the anniversary party.
I…miss him.
Chapter 20
The next two days are free of meetings, which I’m grateful for—I can’t stand breathing the same air as Tim, especially in the same room. Not much for me to do since the graphics revisions he asked me to improve, and I haven’t received any emails with more tasks.
Friday finally comes, and with it the opportunity to meet up with Wendy at a local Starbucks across the street from my apartment.
“It’s a nightmare,” I say to Wendy. “Complete with office politics from hell, sabotaging coworkers, and an ex-boyfriend-turned-boss who vanished after telling me he broke my heart to save my career.”
