Uneasiness
1407 Words
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*Chapter 3*
“Here we are.”
Magnus stopped in front of a wide open-plan office that hummed with quiet activity. Sleek desks stretched in neat rows, each one paired with a large monitor and the soft glow of design software. The air smelled faintly of coffee and the clean paper scent of fresh printouts. Sunlight poured through the tall windows along the far wall, catching on the edges of keyboards and the occasional plant that someone had clearly been watering with care.
He clapped his hands twice.
“Everyone, may I have your attention?”
Conversations faded. Chairs creaked as people turned toward the entrance.
Magnus smiled. “I’d like you all to meet the newest member of the Design Department. She’ll be joining the team starting today.”
Every pair of eyes landed on Wren.
For a split second her confidence slipped. She felt the familiar flutter of nerves rise in her chest. _Don’t be nervous. Just smile._
She stepped forward, hands lightly clasped in front of her.
“Good morning, everyone. My name is Wren Carter. I look forward to working with all of you.”
The response was warmer than she expected. Several people smiled. A few even clapped. The tension in her shoulders eased a little.
Magnus gestured toward an empty workstation near the windows. “Miss Wren, this will be your desk. It’s already been set up for you. If you’ll excuse me, I have another meeting to get to.”
“Thank you very much,” she said.
Once Magnus left, the atmosphere in the room shifted. The formal quiet melted into something more relaxed.
A middle-aged man with neatly combed gray hair stood first. His smile was gentle, the kind that immediately put people at ease.
“I’m Franklin Grey,” he said. “But everyone here just calls me Mr. Frank.”
Wren returned the smile. “Oh! So you’re the team leader?”
Mr. Frank scratched the back of his head, looking faintly amused. “Actually… I’m not.”
Another man rose from his chair with an easy grin. He looked younger than Mr. Frank, maybe in his early thirties, with rolled-up sleeves and the kind of calm confidence that came from knowing exactly how the team worked.
“I’m Caleb. The real team leader.”
Wren’s eyes widened. “Oh my goodness. I’m so sorry. I honestly thought—”
Caleb laughed. “Don’t worry. It happens all the time.”
The rest of the team chuckled, and the last of Wren’s embarrassment faded.
_I guess age really is just a number,_ she thought, a little sheepish.
One by one the others introduced themselves.
Cheerful Liam, who seemed to have a joke ready every few minutes and laughed at his own punchlines harder than anyone else.
Quiet Zach, who barely looked up from his screen but gave her a small, polite nod when it was his turn.
And Green — sharp-eyed and precise — who already looked like the kind of person who noticed every misaligned pixel and slightly off shade of blue.
By lunchtime Wren had most of their names sorted in her head. To her quiet surprise, the team was genuinely welcoming. When she had questions, someone always answered without making her feel foolish. When she made small mistakes, no one rolled their eyes or sighed. They simply corrected her and moved on.
By the time she left that evening, she was smiling the whole way home.
The rest of the week passed faster than she expected.
She arrived before eight every morning, coffee in hand, and stayed until the light outside the windows turned soft and gold. The work was demanding, but it felt purposeful. She learned the company’s design system, the unspoken rules of the department, and how to move a little faster with each new assignment. Caleb stopped by her desk on Thursday afternoon, glanced at her screen, and said simply,
“You’re learning quicker than I expected. Keep it up.”
Those few words stayed with her longer than they probably should have.
For the first time in years, Wren felt like she might actually belong somewhere.
Monday morning arrived with the usual quiet clatter of keyboards and the smell of fresh coffee. Then Caleb walked in, and the peaceful atmosphere disappeared at once.
His normally relaxed expression was gone. He looked serious in a way that made everyone stop what they were doing.
“Everyone.”
The room fell silent.
“I’ve just received a message from management. The CEO is returning from the Litos Branch this afternoon.”
The office erupted.
“What?”
“Already?”
“I thought he wasn’t coming until next week.”
“So did I.”
Caleb raised his voice just enough to cut through the noise. “Listen carefully. He wants every pending design report on his desk before the end of today. No mistakes. No delays. Understood?”
“Yes, sir!”
People scrambled back to their seats. Caleb began assigning tasks with the efficiency of someone who had done this many times before.
“Zach — I need every design submitted this month organized and labeled.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Green — cross-check the themes and make sure nothing clashes.”
“On it.”
“Liam — finish the final edits on Design Eighteen.”
“You got it.”
Finally he turned to Wren.
“Miss Wren.”
“Yes, sir?”
“Everyone will send their completed work to you. I need you to organize everything into one clean final report. It has to be on my desk before five o’clock.”
Wren swallowed. “Understood.”
The office transformed into controlled chaos.
Phones rang and were answered mid-sentence. The printer jammed twice and earned a string of muttered curses. Keyboards clicked in rapid, uneven rhythms. Someone’s coffee cup nearly tipped over a stack of printed drafts. Wren kept her head down and worked as fast as she could, sorting files, checking page numbers, fixing small formatting errors that would have been easy to miss under less pressure. Even though she was still new, she refused to be the weak link.
By the time the final report was compiled and sent, her shoulders ached and her eyes felt dry. Five o’clock came and went. The CEO, however, did not.
That evening the apartment door opened slowly.
Wren dragged herself inside, dropped her bag by the wall, and collapsed onto the couch with a long, dramatic groan.Infact she literally crawled home.
“I’m officially dead.”
Lyra looked up from the television, eyebrows raised. “That bad?”
“You have no idea.” Wren flung an arm over her face. “I think my fingers typed enough words today to write an entire novel.”
Lyra laughed. “What happened?”
Wren peeked out from under her arm. “Our CEO was supposed to arrive today, so the entire department spent the whole day rushing to finish reports. And guess what?”
“What?”
“Despite all that panic, that motherf*cker or should I say fatherf*cker didn’t even show up.”
Lyra burst out laughing. “Seriously?”
“Seriously. I almost sacrificed my fingers for nothing.”
Lyra nudged her shoulder. “I heard your CEO is ridiculously handsome. Maybe something important came up. You know me — I’m always rooting for handsome men.” She winked.
Wren rolled her eyes. “This one is the exception. Let’s curse him together. He owes me a peaceful Monday.”
Lyra only laughed harder. “You never know. What if he’s your soulmate? What if chemistry suddenly blooms between the two of you?”
Wren fixed her with a flat stare. “If that happens, I’ll personally resign.”
The two of them dissolved into laughter.
After dinner, Wren stood outside her bedroom door for a moment longer than usual. The apartment was quiet except for the distant sound of Lyra washing dishes. For some reason she couldn’t quite name, she kept thinking about tomorrow. A strange, unsettled feeling had settled low in her chest — almost like a quiet warning.
She didn’t know why.
She only knew that something felt different.
She opened the door and stepped inside, unaware that the life she had carefully built over the past week was about to change in ways she could never have predicted.
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- Writer
