Chapter Three
1467 Words
I didn't stop until I got home.
My legs ached and my heartbeat was too fast. I shut the door behind me and leaned on it as if someone was chasing me.
Maybe someone was.
Not with footsteps.
But with memory.
What have I done? I whispered to myself.
The apartment was quiet. Too quiet. Like even the walls knew what I’d done and didn’t want to talk about it. My keys slipped from my hand and clattered to the floor, but I didn’t bother picking them up.
I forced myself to move. Dropped my handbag carelessly on the floor . My heels came off next. I headed straight to the bathroom.
I didn’t turn on the light. I didn't want to see myself. I didn't want to see the mess in my eyes, the lipstick smudged wrong, the way my hair looked like I’d been in a fight.
The shower came down with a huge force. I stood there , letting it drop on my skin over and over again as if it could wash away what had happened last night.
As if it could erase everything.
But it didn't.
The water was hot, then too hot, then cold again. I didn’t care. I just stood there. My hands gripped the edge of the tub like if I let go I’d fall apart completely.
Tears dropped down my face before I could even realize I was crying.
I didn't mean to " . The words came out weak.
I said it out loud like saying it would make it less real. But it didn’t. The words just hung in the steam and died.
After I felt like I had stayed enough in the bathroom, I turned off the shower and stepped out , wrapping my towel tightly around myself.
The cold air hit me and I shivered. My skin was red from the water, but it didn’t feel clean. Nothing felt clean.
I walked into my room slowly, like I was afraid the night would repeat itself again.
My phone buzzed on the bed .
I frozed.
My breath stopped.
For a second I thought it was him . But when I went to pick it up, the name on the screen made me exhale in relief.
Ivy calling……
I exhaled.
Ivy .
My best friend.
The one person who always knew everything about me.
The one person I never hid things from.
Every bad decision.
Every secret.
Until now.
I stared at the screen. It kept ringing. I couldn’t answer. Not yet. Not when my voice would c***k and she’d know immediately that something was wrong.
I had to lie.
I couldn’t say I got drunk and slept with a complete stranger.
I was very ashamed of myself.
Ashamed didn’t even cover it. It was worse than that. It was that hollow, sick feeling in your stomach when you know you’ve crossed a line you can’t uncross.
The phone stopped ringing.
A second later, a text message came in .
Babe , are you okay? Where did you sleep last night? I was so worried.
I read it twice. Three times. My chest tightened with every word. She was worried. And here I was, lying already.
I sat on the edge of my couch.
I typed a reply,then deleted it.
Typed again, deleted again.
My fingers trembled over the screen.
Finally, I sent it .
" I'm good bestie, it was late, so I slept in the hotel.
The lie sat there on the screen, small but heavy.
It didn’t feel good.
But it felt easier.
I hated lying but telling the truth felt impossible.
My thumb hovered over the screen after I sent it. Like I could take it back. Like I could make it disappear and tell her the truth instead. But I didn’t.
Another message came in almost immediately.
You couldn't even call me, that's unlike you", I started feeling guilty. She was right . I should have called her.
She was right. I always called her. Even at 2 AM when I couldn’t sleep. Even when it was stupid stuff. But last night? I couldn’t risk it.
I'm deeply sorry, it wasn't intentional ", I apologized
I typed it fast, before I could change my mind.
This time, I didn’t delete it.
Seconds passed.
Then she replied," okay just rest, I will be back soon.
Her reply was short. Too short. That was how I knew she was upset, even if she wasn’t saying it.
Hours later , she came back.
The moment she stepped inside, she looked exhausted but focused.
And worried.
“Olive?”
“In here,” I replied weakly.
She walked into my room and sat beside me on the bed.
Her eyes scanned my face.
“You look terrible.”
“Thanks.”
“I’m serious. Are you okay?”
I forced a smile.
“Just tired.”
She studied me like she knew something was off, but thankfully didn’t push further.
I wanted her to push. Part of me wanted her to shake me and make me tell her everything so I wouldn’t have to carry it alone. But she didn’t.
Then suddenly her expression changed like she remembered something important.
" Babe , my resume you know I would be needing it tomorrow right? .
The one she had given me yesterday to help her edit .
My stomach dropped. I’d almost forgotten. Almost.
" Yes yes,” I said too quickly.
I grabbed my handbag from the floor and opened it.
I searched for it , but couldn't find it.
My hands moved fast, too fast. Papers, receipts, old gum wrappers. Nothing that mattered.
I checked the side bag .But still couldn't find it .
I frowned.
I emptied everything on my bed .
Lip gloss , Powder.Phone charger.
But no resume.
I checked again.
Then again.
Still nothing.
The room felt smaller. My breathing got faster.
Ivy's face changed instantly.
" Olive"
I looked up slowly.
I can't find it " , I told her.
What do you mean you can't find it ?.
“That’s my interview copy!” Ivy snapped.
Her voice got louder. Sharper.
You know I have an interview tomorrow . How do I go about it? How could you be this careless? ; Ivy angrily shouted and blamed me .
" I know"
" So why can't you find it? .
Her voice got louder . She stood up.
"I'm sorry, I will fix it , okay ", I tried to calm her down.
" How ?.
" I will reprint it ".
" What if that was the only correct copy?“How could you be this careless?” Ivy blamed me.
The words stung more than they should have.
Because she was right.
I was careless.
I opened my mouth to argue, to say something, but nothing came out. Because she was right. I had been careless. With her resume. With everything.
Ivy stared at me, angry and frustrated.
Then she shook her head.
“Unbelievable.”
She turned and walked out .
The door clicked shut behind her. Louder than it should have.
I sat there alone, surrounded by the contents of my spilled handbag.
I tried to remember if I had dropped it somewhere else, but I couldn't remember.
My head hurts. My chest hurts. Everything hurt.
Meanwhile earlier that morning.
At the Hotel…..
The CEO woke up and found a paper lying near the bed .
Folded .
He sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes like he was trying to shake off the night. The room smelled like stale champagne and something else he couldn’t name.
He bent down and picked it up.
A resume.
His eyes scanned the top.
Ivy Cole ?
His voice low and thoughtful.
"Thought she said her name was Olive ?
Oh , it seems people lie when they are drunk ; the CEO thought.
He sat there for a long time, just staring at the name. Ivy Cole. Not Olive. The girl in his bed had said her name was Olive. At least he thought she did.
A knock came at the suite door.
His personal assistant stepped in.
“Good morning, sir.”
He held out the resume.
“Take this.”
The assistant collected it carefully.
His expression turned cold and commanding.
" I'm giving you twenty four hours to find this lady .
The assistant nodded once. No questions. No hesitation. That was how it worked with him. You didn’t ask why. You just did it.
The CEO stood up and walked to the window. The city was waking up below him, busy and loud and uncaring. He didn’t feel any of it.
Twenty four hours. That was all he gave him .
- Writer
