INVISIBLE
980 Words
*Nyra*
The elevator doors open to the twenty-eighth floor, and I swear the air up here is different.
It smells like money and control.
Clean marble gleams under the fluorescent lights, and the walls are lined with glass offices where people in perfect suits move like they belong here. I keep my head down and grip my tablet like it’s the only thing tethering me to this world.
My heels click too loud against the floor. I imagine the sound marking me as an outsider, the poor girl who shouldn’t even be here.
I step into the intern bullpen, and the familiar hum greets me—keyboard clicks, low phone calls, the occasional fake laugh floating from the executive corner.
And then I feel it.
The shift. The tightening in the air.
Cassian Rhys is here.
---
I can’t see him yet, but I feel his presence like a shadow across my spine. My chest squeezes, and I grip the edge of my desk before I drop something and make it worse.
I shouldn’t care. I should focus on my work. But I can’t.
Because that night still clings to me.
The hotel room.
The smell of whiskey and cedar.
The weight of his hands on my hips.
The sound of his voice, rough and low, whispering my name like it mattered. Like I meant something.
“Nyra…”
I blink hard, but the memory burns behind my eyes.
---
“Miss Carter.”
I freeze.
His voice.
I force my head up.
Cassian stands a few feet away, tall, precise, immaculate in a dark navy suit that hugs his broad shoulders. He looks like he owns this building, the city, the world.
“Sir?” My voice shakes despite my best effort.
“The De Luca file,” he says, like he’s talking to a stranger. “On my desk in ten minutes.”
I nod quickly. “Y-yes, sir.”
He doesn’t glance twice. He turns and walks back toward his office, shoulders straight, leaving the faint trail of that cologne I know too well.
And it’s like someone sliced my chest open.
No recognition.
No hesitation.
Nothing.
Just my name barked like an order instead of whispered like a secret.
I lean back slowly, my legs weak, and the heat behind my eyes finally spills over. I duck my head, letting my hair shield my face as I blink the tears away.
I can’t break here.
Not in this room.
Not where everyone can see.
---
I grab the folder and make my way to his office. Each step is a countdown, my heart racing faster the closer I get.
I knock lightly.
“Come in.”
The door opens smoothly, and the smell of leather and wood rushes over me. My chest aches.
He doesn’t look up right away. He’s behind his glass desk, flipping through papers, posture perfect.
I step forward and place the file down gently.
“You’re trembling,” he says casually.
I freeze. My fingers twitch against my skirt. “I… I’m just nervous, sir.”
“Don’t let nerves get in the way of precision,” he replies, still not looking up. “It’ll cost you here.”
“Yes, sir,” I whisper. My throat burns.
I turn to leave. My hand touches the cool metal of the door handle—
“Your name?” he says suddenly.
I stiffen. “Nyra Carter. Sir”
“Hmm.” He nods once, still not lifting his eyes. “Dismissed.”
---
I make it to the bathroom before my face crumples.
The stall door clicks shut, and I slide down the wall to the cold floor, hugging my knees as the first sob bursts out of me.
Ugly, raw, chest-wracking sobs.
I bite my hand to quiet myself, but the tears don’t stop.
I let him touch me.
I let him whisper to me.
I let myself believe… just for a night… that I could matter to someone like him.
And now I sit on the bathroom floor, mascara smudged, heart broken, body aching in places I can’t name.
I swipe my tears with rough tissue, splash cold water on my face, and force myself to look in the mirror.
My reflection is a stranger.
Eyes red.
Cheeks hollow.
Lips trembling.
But I have to go back out there.
I have to pretend.
I have to survive.
Because I can’t afford to lose this internship, and he can’t ever know what he did to me.
---
*Cassian*
She lingers in my mind.
The intern. Nyra.
Quiet. Fragile. Too soft for these walls of steel and glass.
She walks past my office with her head down, but I feel her. Her presence clings to the air, whispering something I can’t quite catch.
And I hate it.
I hate distractions.
I hate weakness.
I hate the way her silence makes me… remember.
That night.
The blur of whiskey.
The taste of soft lips.
A voice saying my name like a secret she wasn’t supposed to share.
Cassian…
I exhale sharply and push the thought away.
It’s nothing.
A coincidence.
Just a name, a shadow, a feeling.
I don’t remember her face.
I don’t want to.
Because if I do… I won’t forget.
---
*Nyra*
The day crawls by.
I stay late, cleaning up spreadsheets, double-checking files, anything to avoid the landlord’s calls and the memories that threaten to drown me.
The office empties until it’s just me and the hum of the AC.
I pack my bag slowly and take the elevator down alone.
When the doors close, I finally let my face fall apart.
Silent tears track down my cheeks. My chest heaves. My reflection in the elevator glass looks like a girl I pity—broken, invisible, replaceable.
And the worst part?
Tomorrow, I have to do it all over again.
- Writer
