SECRETARY TO THE CEO

I fumble through my bag for my keys while climbing the stairs to my apartment floor, my thighs burning from the kind of cardio I never signed up for. I guess this counts as a decent workout, considering I’ve been pretty much skipping the gym for the past few months. The elevator had an Out of Order sign slapped across its doors. Again. Of course. Honestly, nothing in this dingy building works the way it should: the leaking pipes, the mold creeping along the walls, the AC that coughs more than it actually cools. By the time I reach my floor, my breath comes a little too fast, sweat clinging uncomfortably to my skin. The hallway smells of its familiar damp concrete, something I still haven’t gotten used to, and I don’t think I ever will. My apartment is my safe haven, the one place that doesn’t smell like old people, and that’s because I make sure of it. A few spritzes of my delicate home scented candles keep the air soft, warm, ours. A small, intentional luxury in a building that seems determined to rot from the inside out. Just as I finally find my keys and reach for the door, a soft brush of fabric grazes my fingers, and a blush creeps up my cheeks. Reminding me of the trip I took to the mall after work to shop for a thong. I’d turned every shade of red sifting through the racks, pretending I was unfazed while absolutely not being unfazed, considering I had never bought—or worn—anything this provocative before. Before long, I finally settled on a green set that barely covers anything—which, honestly, is kind of the whole point The memory makes my lips curve into a small smile as I unlock the door. I can already picture Jordan’s reaction when he sees me in it. Jordan and I have been together for three years. We met in our third year of college. I was the perpetually stressed girl surviving on caffeine and looming deadlines, while he was the built football star who somehow made everything look effortless including scoring girls. Back then, I never imagined we’d last. People like him didn’t usually end up choosing girls like me. But here we are, three years later, still making my heart flutter over something as simple as a piece of lace tucked away in my bag. We’ve been inseparable ever since. Sure, we’ve had our ups and downs, what couple hasn’t? But I love him, and I always find a way to make things work. We both do. Lately, though, things have been rough between us. Conversations feel shorter, between my late hours and his, we haven’t had time to be in the same room doing anything but sleep or argue over the little things. The kind I don’t even think should qualify as argument worthy topics. I mean, come on, does having three plants in the apartment really have to turn into a battle? Apparently it does. According to him, I’m growing a jungle, instead of appreciating the fact that he gets a little bit of photosynthesis every time he walks past them. Patty, Lila, and Ash stays. Yeah… I might have given them names. And yes, I do talk to them. But honestly, if he can’t handle a little greenery, then he's a weeny. That's why I decided to do something different. Something deliberate. Something to remind us of us. I have everything planned. I’ll cook his favorite lasagna soup, the one he always brags about to his friends like it’s some rare delicacy. I’ll light a few scented candles, then I’ll slip into my sexy piece and wait for him in bed. I open the door and find the apartment dark, which is strange. I swear I left the lights on before leaving for work today and Jordan isn’t supposed to be back until this evening. Maybe he came home early. My footsteps are quiet as I step inside, the familiar warmth of the apartment cloaked in shadows. I reach for the light switch, flick it on and—freeze. Clothes are scattered across the path leading to the bedroom: his boxers, a dress shirt, and… a pair of pink panties. Wait. Panties? The bedroom door is slightly open, and my stomach twists with discomfort. “Honey, are you home?” I called out. Soft grunts reach my ears as I approach. My heart thump a little faster. What in the world is going on in there? “Harder, please, baby!” A woman’s voice moans. My stomach drops down to my ass, as I push the door open and my world stops moving. There he is. On the edge of the bed, f*****g a girl from behind. The sight punches the air out of my lungs. I feel my blood draining from my body, leaving me hollow. I open my mouth to speak, but no sound comes out. This can’t be real. This has to be a dream. A bad one. No. No. His voice cuts through the haze low and breathless. “You’re so tight. So perfect. Better than that fat girlfriend of mine.” Fat? I’m fat? Jordan has sometimes made me feel wrong in my own skin without ever saying it outright. He gave me diet plans, set workout schedules, and made comments about what I should and shouldn’t eat. He never called me fat out loud, but his tone, his looks. Always said enough. I told myself it was for my own good. That he cared. But standing here, watching him, it all clicks. I’m not fat. I'm plus -sized with Softness in the right places. But compared to the girl beneath him with a narrow waist, that fits perfectly in his hands. I suddenly feel massive. The word rings in my head like a curse, carving into every insecurity I thought I’d buried. And then, with a familiar shudder and a groan, he climaxes. The girl arches beneath him before lifting her head, her familiar smile hitting me like a punch to the chest. Penelope. My best friend. I stagger back, my hands flying to my mouth as my knees threaten to buckle. The room tilts and my chest tightens like it’s being crushed. A scream rises in my throat, but it dies there, swallowed by disbelief and pain. “Allie… w-what are you doing here?” Penelope’s eyes widen as she stares at me in shock. I watch Jordan stiffen, his body tense as he slowly turns towards me. They scramble to cover themselves, fumbling for some semblance of composure, like they haven't just ripped my heart out. “You told me, she won't be back until 8” Penny's gaze bounces to me and then Jordan, wrapping the sheets around her body. “She should be,” Jordan’s tone is flat. He steps towards me, and the corner of his mouth lifts up as I take a step back, wanting to be anywhere but here. I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck. My best friend. My boyfriend. Together. I glance between Jordan and Penelope, her dark hair slick with sweat across her forehead and chest. “How l… long?” My voice comes out hoarse, and tears prick at my eyes. “Not long,” she whispers. Not long? Not long for him to know she’s tighter than I am. Not long for her to call him baby. “How long?” I scream “Don’t raise your voice at her!” Jordan barks, and I flinch, my whole body shrinking under the weight of his anger. My stomach twists, a mix of nausea and rage, and my hands clench into fists at my sides. The carefully planned night I had imagined, the lasagna, the candles, the green thong all of it feels like a cruel joke now. I just stand there, frozen, my chest heaving as I try to process the scene in front of me. I swallow hard, forcing the words past the lump in my throat. “How… how could you?” My voice shakes, barely louder than a whisper, but I don’t care if they hear. “Both of you.” Penny glances at me, a smug look she tries but fails to hide flickers across her face as she steps toward me.“Allie… it’s not what you think.” “Not what I think?” I laugh bitterly. “I just watched you have s*x with him. Tell me, what shouldn't I think? Because trust me, it’s clear as day.” “Spare me your lecture, Allie. Yes, it’s been going on for a while. Deal with it.” He snaps. I watch him saunter to the fridge, crack open a beer, and plop onto the couch like nothing happened. Like this is a casual Wednesday evening. Heat pulses in my veins, a sharp, relentless burn that makes my hands clench and unclench. My chest tightens and a cold, furious clarity settles over me:. How dare he act as if this—this betrayal—was nothing. Every fiber of me wants to scream, and he’s sitting there, oblivious, like he hasn’t been cheating on me with my best friend. And Penelope? I don’t even know who she is right now. The girl I leaned on whenever Jordan and I had issues and now, the two people I thought were my family have gutted me from the back. I take a shaky breath. The room feels smaller than it's usual size and it's suffocating that all I can do is stand here trembling, as the weight of their betrayal crashes over me. “Allie, you know I love you. I didn’t mean for it to happen. It just did. Towards the past few months we found ourselves drifting towards each other. I love him, Allie. I’m sorry you had to witness that, but the truth is, someone was bound to get hurt, and it just happens to be you,” Penny says, voice dripping with false innocence. “Don’t explain s**t to her. Come here, Baby.” Jordan barks. Baby. Baby. Enough with the baby. I've never been violent before but something inside me snaps. I don’t think—I act. My hands shoot toward the shelf and grab his Xbox, feeling the weight of it in my palms. “Maybe you should see what it feels like to lose something you care about,” I hissed. Jordan freezes for half a second, his eyes bulging,, darting between me and his precious child—his word—not mine—as I storm toward the apartment door. “Allie, put that down,” he says, panic finally cracking through his voice. I laugh, sharp and humorless, my heart pounding so hard it feels like it might break through my ribs. “Funny,” I say without turning back. “You didn’t ask me before you f****d my best friend “ “Allie, What the hell are you doing?!” I hear Penny shout. I yank the door open and step toward the staircase, ignoring his shouts. My vision narrows in burning anger as my fingers clamp tighter around the xbox. “Are you insane?!” he yells, lunging forward and grabbing the edge before I can throw it. His grip clashes with mine, the impact sending a jolt of pain up my arms. “Maybe I am!” I spit back, tugging harder. Yes . I've gone completely off rails. The world narrows to the Xbox between us, the sound of our struggle echoing off the walls. Every rational thought has fled, leaving only this raw, burning need to make him feel hurt? Pain? But it's more to make him understand he hurt me. The push and pull between us sends me stumbling back before I even understand what’s happening. My foot hits the edge of the stair landing and gravity yanks me down. “Shitt—!” Jordan lunges forward, fingers just missing my wrist. Penny’s scream slices through the air. The world tilts and suddenly I’m falling. Air rushes past me, loud and cold, and my stomach lurches violently as the stairs blur beneath me. My hands flail, grasping at nothing but empty space, and for a heartbeat, I swear time stops. Pain spikes along my arm as I hit the railing. A thud echoes off the walls. Panic surges through me, raw and unfiltered, and I can hear Jordan’s frantic shouts, Penny cries out, but the sound is distant, muffled by the roar of my own fear as I hit the bottom hard. Pain detonates through my body in sharp, merciless waves, stealing the breath from my lungs. Jordan stands frozen at the top of the stairs, his blue eyes flicking between me and his Xbox. “Get up, Allie. Don’t be dramatic,” he growls—though fear cracks through the sound, splintering it. I try. I really do. But my head is spinning, The hard corner of the console had connected violently with my temple. My hands slip against the dirty marble floor, useless. The last thing I register—before the world starts swimming—is the blood pooling at my hairline, warm as it slides down my cheek. Is this where I die? My vision blurs, darkness creeping in from the edges, slow and inevitable. For a fleeting moment, the other side of the world doesn’t feel so bad. At least there’s no betrayal there, my boyfriend still loves me. And I still wore that lingerie for him. Then everything goes black. PAST I shift my head on Jordan’s lap and grin up at him. “Pass me the hamburger.” The sunlight catches in his blond hair, slightly tousled by the breeze, and he looks so effortlessly handsome that I can’t help but wonder how someone like me ended up with someone like him. This is our seventh date since we officially became a couple and I still get butterflies every time I'm with him. Today, we chose to go to the park. We packed a few lunch boxes and rode bicycles here since it wasn’t far from my hostel. The air was warm, the grass smelled like…grass and everything felt light like the world had paused just for us. “What did I tell you? No meat or anything heavy “ he tsk. I whine. “Just a little won’t hurt.” Even though I knew he’d disapprove, the words slipped out anyway. Jordan had mapped out this whole diet plan for me. It's his “supportive” attempt at getting me to slim down. If I eat a bit more than I should, my stomach ends up looking rounder than I want it to. According to him, that isn’t “flattering.” I’ve always been insecure about the way I look. About everything, honestly. So I eat less and less each day, hoping the extra bit he always noticed would go away. But there are days when I get tired of the constant restraint and I lose myself in food just to feel normal again. Regardless, I know he's only strict because he cares. He loves me enough to push me, and that’s all that matters. Right? “You’re so cute when you pout,” he says, leaning down to kiss me. Just like that, my growing worries melt back into the corner where I always shove them. Pretemding they don’t exist. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” “You tell that to all the girls you’ve been with?” I tease. “Yes,” he answers too fast. I frown and start to sit up, but he laughs and pulls me back against him. “Relax, honey. I only told the truth. They were beautiful women, but the difference is you’re my woman.” He kisses me again, and I can’t help blushing. “You’re a smooth talker, aren’t you?” “Only for you. Now open—AHH.” He holds a banana to my lips, and I obediently open my mouth. But what I taste isn’t the banana. It’s a faint plastic tang, mingling with the sterile scent of antiseptic.” ✿ ❃ I wake to the low, insistent beeping of a monitor slicing through the sterile quiet. My eyes flutter open, struggling to adjust to the harsh light, only to find a male doctor leaning over me. “You have a mild concussion, Ms. Sinclair,” he says clinically, adjusting his glasses. I groan, squeezing my eyes shut. “Stitches are in place. You’ll have persistent headaches and light sensitivity for the next few days. It’s a miracle you didn’t break your neck or anything else in the fall aside from your sprained right wrist.” He does a few other check ups and leaves. A sharp pain shoots through my skull, my body aches in ways the dreams of our college days—the warmth, the laughter, the sense of safety—never prepared me for. Safe? Was it ever? I’ve always been a sucker for the perfect love story, chasing the fairy tale so blindly that I ignored every warning, every red flag. Every. Single. One. Thinking back on it, he has only ever been concerned with his own convenience, and I—desperate for affection—called it love. Love? If he felt even a fraction of it, he would have chosen anyone other than my best friend. Penelope is the exact opposite of me. Vision-runway models—slap one on a page, print it out—that’s her, down to every picture-perfect detail. We've been attached at the hip since freshman year in college. Being an only child, I never knew what it felt like to have a sister, but she felt like one. The one I trusted with my secrets, my tears, my heart. And now that person is the one who rips it all apart. I replay the scene in my head like a looping video that won’t shut off. I feel sick to my stomach, like the memory itself poisons me from the inside. The thin hospital sheets crinkle beneath my fingers, stiff and cold, nothing like the soft blanket on my bed back home. The bed where he f****d her. The bed I paid for. Every time I blink, I see Jordan’s hands on her. I hear her moans. I see his smile, the one he used to give me. “You’re awake, thank God.” My thoughts shatter as Penelope walks into the room, a worried look stretching across her face. She saunters in wearing tight jeans and a shirt way too big for her. Is that… Jordan’s? Is she here to rub this in my face? To gloat? God. I almost died because of a stupid game console, for crying out loud. My voice cracks in my own head. “What are you doing here?” I frown. “Sad you didn’t get rid of me?” “I only stole your boyfriend, Allie. It doesn’t mean I want you dead. I still care about you.” Her blue eyes glint with fake tears. Liar. She “cares,” but she let my boyfriend bend her over—my ex now. I start to sit up. “Just lay down,” she says, stepping closer. “The doctor said you’ll fall if you get up too fast.” “I’d rather fall than breathe the same air as you right now.” “Don’t be dramatic. You’re not the first person to get cheated on.” She huffs. Impossible. Am I supposed to applaud? Because apparently I’ve earned a spot on the grand list of betrayed girls. She acts like I’m overreacting, like my pain is some nuisance she has to babysit. She knew how much I loved Jordan. I told her everything: the ring designs I saved, the wedding dresses I looked at in secret, the stupid daydreams I had about him proposing. Am I insane for wanting an apology? For wanting even a semblance of guilt? Instead, they try to twist me into the villain, like I’m the intruder in my own life. I manage to stand, though my legs betray me, sending a sharp jolt of pain spiraling up my skull. I clutch my bandaged head like it’s the only thing holding me in one piece. Honestly, the only thing I’m grateful for is that the fall down the stairs didn’t snap a bone. If it had… I think I’d have completely lost my mind. “Allie, where are you going? Are you even listening?” I ignore her, wearing my jacket over my sundress. “So, the silent treatment… I see.” I start signing the discharge papers. “I’m pregnant.” My heart stops. “What?” She snorts. “I’m joking. I knew that would get your attention. Please talk to me. I don’t like it when you’re mad at me.” She’s in front of me now pouting. Her manicured fingers wrapped around my hand. She talks like this is some playground fight, like she stole my lollipop and all she needs to do is bat her lashes and all is forgiven. As if she hasn’t shattered a seven-year friendship and the relationship I built with everything in me. “You broke me more than he did, Penelope,” I whisper. “I have nothing to say to you.” I’m tired. I need a bath, a bottle of wine, and silence. I just pray—pray—that if Jordan feels even a shred of remorse, he won’t be there when I go home. Thankfully, she doesn’t say anything else. I walk out of the hospital, board a cab, and get home to an empty apartment. Thank God for that. Instead of taking the long bath I promised myself, I collapse onto the bed and cry myself to sleep.