Chapter 7 – Noise
782 Words
Sleep didn’t come anymore.
Not naturally.
Not easily.
Not at all.
Nia lay in bed, eyes open, watching the faint glow of city lights bleed through the curtains. The clock on the wall ticked steadily.
1:12 a.m.
2:03 a.m.
3:47 a.m.
Every minute felt louder than the last.
She turned onto her side.
Then her back.
Then the other side again.
Nothing worked.
Her mind refused to quiet.
You don’t belong.
Her eyes shut tightly.
“Stop.”
They left you.
Her fingers curled into the sheets.
Her breathing sharpened slightly.
You’re a reject.
Nia sat up abruptly.
“Enough.”
Her voice cut through the silence of the room—but it didn’t reach the noise in her head.
She swung her legs off the bed, pacing now.
Once.
Twice.
Again.
“Get it together,” she muttered, running a hand through her hair. “You’re fine.”
But the words felt rehearsed.
Empty.
The room felt smaller.
The air heavier.
Like something was pressing in on her chest from the inside.
She grabbed her phone.
Opened it.
Closed it.
No one to call.
No one she wanted to explain this to.
Marcus would ask questions.
Ryan would see too much.
She exhaled sharply and dropped the phone onto the bed.
“Just sleep.”
But sleep wasn’t something she could command.
Not anymore.
Morning came without her noticing when the night ended.
The mirror didn’t lie.
Dark circles. Tension in her jaw. Eyes that looked just a little too sharp.
But everything else?
Perfect.
As always.
“Ms. Carter, the 10 a.m. briefing—”
“I know,” she said, brushing past her assistant without slowing down.
The office buzzed with movement, people stepping aside as she passed, voices lowering automatically.
She didn’t acknowledge any of it.
Didn’t need to.
Inside the meeting room, the presentation had already started.
Graphs. Numbers. Voices blending together.
“…and if we restructure the timeline—”
“That’s inefficient.”
The speaker stopped immediately.
Nia didn’t even look up from the file in front of her.
“You’re wasting time fixing something that shouldn’t have been wrong in the first place.”
Silence.
“We can revise it,” someone said carefully.
“You should have done that before bringing it to me.”
Her tone wasn’t loud.
But it didn’t need to be.
The rest of the meeting moved faster.
Sharper.
Tense.
By the time it ended, no one spoke unless spoken to.
No one lingered.
Nia remained seated for a moment after everyone left.
Still.
Quiet.
Then—
The noise came back.
Not good enough.
Her jaw tightened.
You don’t belong here.
Her hand pressed lightly against her temple.
“Stop,” she whispered.
But it didn’t.
The door opened slightly.
Ryan stepped in.
He didn’t speak immediately.
Just watched her.
“You’re getting worse.”
Nia didn’t look at him.
“I’m working.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
She leaned back in her chair, finally meeting his gaze.
“And what did you mean?”
Ryan’s expression didn’t change.
“You’re not sleeping. You’re snapping at everyone. And whatever’s going on in your head—”
“I have it handled.”
A pause.
Then—
“No, you don’t.”
The words landed heavier than anything else had that day.
For a second, something flickered in her expression.
Anger.
Or something close to it.
“You don’t get to decide that,” she said, her voice colder now.
Ryan didn’t back down.
“I don’t have to. It’s obvious.”
Silence stretched between them.
Tight.
Uncomfortable.
“Leave it alone,” Nia said finally.
Ryan studied her for a moment longer.
Then nodded once.
But he didn’t look convinced.
“I’m not dropping it,” he said quietly. “Just not here.”
And with that, he walked out.
The room felt quieter after he left.
But not better.
Nia sat there, unmoving.
Her fingers tapped once against the table.
Then stopped.
He’s right.
Her jaw clenched.
“No.”
You’re losing control.
“I said no.”
Her voice was sharper now.
Defensive.
But there was no one there to argue with.
Only her.
And the noise that refused to leave.
That night, she didn’t even try to sleep.
She sat by the window instead, city lights reflecting in her eyes as she held a glass in her hand.
Untouched.
At first.
Then—
She took a sip.
The burn grounded her.
Just enough.
But not for long.
Because the truth was—
The pressure wasn’t easing.
The thoughts weren’t fading.
They were building.
And sooner or later—
Something was going to break.
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