Chapter Three
694 Words
I spend the entire drive to the office trying to convince myself not to turn around.
By the time I pull into the car park, my hands are gripping the steering wheel hard enough to hurt.
Nothing has changed.
The same building.
The same sign.
The same row of cars.
It’s offensive, really.
How dare the world look exactly the same when mine doesn’t?
I sit there for another minute.
Then another.
Eventually, I force myself out of the car.
The receptionist spots me first.
Her face changes immediately.
There it is.
The look.
Pity.
I smile before she can.
It’s become a reflex.
A shield.
“Emily. It’s so nice to see you.”
Nice.
As though I’d been on holiday.
“Morning.”
The office feels smaller than I remember.
Or maybe I’m just different.
People glance up from their desks.
A few wave.
A few smile.
Everyone looks uncomfortable.
Good.
At least it’s not just me.
Christopher is waiting in one of the meeting rooms.
Of course he is.
He stands when I walk in.
For a second, neither of us says anything.
“Morning.”
“Morning.”
His eyes flick briefly to my face.
Then away.
Like he’s checking whether I’m okay without actually asking.
I hate that.
“I’m glad you came.”
I drop into a chair.
“You said it wasn’t a request.”
To my annoyance, the corner of his mouth twitches.
“Fair.”
He slides a folder across the table.
The thing is ridiculously thick.
I stare at it.
Then at him.
Then back at the folder.
“You printed a forest.”
“It’s not all important.”
“That’s reassuring.”
“It wasn’t meant to be.”
I open the folder.
Numbers.
Contracts.
Reports.
My head already hurts.
Christopher leans back in his chair.
“Don’t worry. Nobody understands half of this stuff.”
Silence.
He doesn’t notice.
He’s still talking.
“That’s why accountants exist.”
There it is.
A joke.
A harmless little joke.
Except suddenly I’m sixteen again.
Or twenty-two.
Or thirty.
Every meeting.
Every conversation.
Every moment someone assumed I wouldn’t understand because I wasn’t the loudest person in the room.
I close the folder.
A little harder than necessary.
“What exactly is that supposed to mean?”
Christopher frowns.
“What?”
“You don’t need to explain things to me like I’m a child.”
The room goes completely still.
“I wasn’t.”
“Right.”
“Emily—”
“No, it’s fine.”
It isn’t.
Not even close.
“I’m perfectly capable of understanding a document.”
His expression shifts.
Confusion first.
Then irritation.
“I know that.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
The answer comes too quickly.
Too easily.
Like he’s rehearsed it.
For some reason, that makes me even angrier.
“Because that’s not how it sounds.”
Christopher stares at me.
For a long moment, neither of us speaks.
Then he exhales sharply and leans back.
“Okay.”
I hate that too.
“What does that mean?”
“It means whatever I say right now is going to annoy you.”
The worst part?
He’s probably right.
I stand.
The chair scrapes loudly against the floor.
“I think we’re done here.”
His jaw tightens.
“We’ve barely started.”
“Exactly.”
I grab my handbag.
The folder stays on the table.
“Emily.”
Something in his voice makes me pause.
Just for a second.
“I wasn’t making fun of you.”
The frustrating thing is that he sounds sincere.
Which means one of us is misunderstanding the other.
And right now, I’m not prepared to consider that it might be me.
I leave before he can say anything else.
The door closes behind me.
Hard.
Not a slam.
Close enough.
As I walk through the office, I can feel people pretending not to watch.
Perfect.
Absolutely perfect.
Less than an hour.
That’s all it took.
Ninety-two days avoiding this place.
And somehow Christopher had managed to annoy me in under sixty minutes.
Some things, apparently, never change.
- Writer
