DESIRE: Longing that leads to the unknown

THE DECISIVE ONE

I was still trying to figure out how I could possibly stink when I heard a voice from behind me.

"Let's carry on."

I turned. It was my boss, Mrs. Sylene. Fair, blond hair, with a beautiful smile. Working with her had been one of my biggest dreams.

"Rosetta, go check your table. I dropped a few documents. Analyze them, run the numbers, and get back to me. You have one hour."

"Okay, ma'am," I replied and went to my table.

I screamed out loud. Maybe too loud, because my coworkers all stared at me.

But she said a few, I told myself as I stared at the damn huge stack*of documents on my table. Maybe this was her definition of few.

I looked toward her office, as if trying to will her to help me. That's when I saw someone else inside.

The guy from the elevator.

Maybe it's her husband or an investor, I thought. Because she's doing a lot more than just talking to him.

He simply stopped beside her desk and looked through the transparent wall.

Down below.

On the lower floor.

At me.

From where he stood, he had a full view of the staff area. Of every desk. Every movement.

His eyes found me instantly.

Mrs. Sylene followed his gaze.

That’s Rosetta. "She's one of our senior associates," she said carefully. "Efficient. Consistent performance reviews."

He didn't respond.

I was laughing at something a colleague said, but it wasn't real laughter. It was forced. My hand kept brushing my blouse unconsciously, as if I still felt the phantom stain from the coffee.

He noticed that.

He noticed everything.

"Clumsy," he said finally.

Mrs. Sylene stiffened slightly.

"Sir?"

"She lacks composure."

His tone wasn't angry.

It was worse.

Decisive.

Mrs. Sylene hesitated. "Did she perhaps do anything ?"

"Move her."

That was it.

No raised voice.

No argument.

Just a decision.

Downstairs, I felt it again, that strange sensation.

Like someone was watching me, I looked up instinctively.

The executive floor glass reflected nothing but light.

But something about it made my stomach tighten.

A few minutes later, a figure appeared before me.

I thought it was him, the guy from the elevator. But to my surprise, it was someone else. My boss.

She handed a folder to me.

"I'm sorry, Rosetta. You've been reassigned to the design department," she said.

"Why?" The word fell out of me.

She shook her head. "It came from higher authorities, the CEO. There's nothing I can do."

"Mrs. Sylene—Mrs. Sylene!" I called out as she walked away.

What did I do wrong? What have I done?

A higher authority? C E O? I haven't even met him before. Why would he do this?

A shadow appeared again.

Mrs. Sylene, where ! I turned back.

It was him. The guy from the elevator.

Why was everyone standing? Why was everyone looking at him like he was some kind of god? An investor or even Something more?

I faced him.

"Look, I'm sorry for the—"

I couldn't finish. He smirked and walked away.

How can someone be so rude and so ruthless at the same time?

But he wasn't my problem at the moment. My job was at stake. I needed to find out who and why.

I can't afford to be demoted.

My salary. Everything I've worked for. Everything my family depends on.

I worked hard to get to this level. Not to be trampled upon and kicked out for no reason. Who is this CEO?

I have to speak to Mrs. Sylene. Maybe she can do something. Maybe she can at least tell me my mistake.

I rushed to her office and sat down.

"Mrs. Sylene, I can't just be demoted for no reason. If I made a mistake, tell me, and I'll fix it. Who is this authority? Can't you help me? Please."

She looked at me, her expression unreadable.

"You know I've always wanted to work with you. Not in the design department. This isn't just about passion—it's about survival. My mother is a cancer patient. I pay for her treatment. I pay for my sister's college. I send money home for my brother. Mrs. Sylene, please. I can't afford this."

"Rosetta. Rosetta!"

She was calling my name, but I was overwhelmed. Tears streamed down my face. This wasn't what I planned. This wasn't what I wanted.

"Rosetta, calm down. Calm down."

"I can't—"

"I can't question the authority either. I can't do anything to help. I'm sorry. Please, get your things together. The design department is waiting."

She guided me toward the door.

"But why? Who is this person? Just tell me who, and I'll go beg them myself."

She didn't answer. She simply escorted me out.

I went back to my table and, through tears, packed my belongings.

I watched my effort drain away in front of my eyes without knowing why.

I wiped my tears, carried the box, and left.

The design department welcomed me and showed me to my new table.

I set down my box. Unpacked my things.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. Fast. Like it knew I wanted it over.

When work ended, I went home, feeling disheartened.

Like a brick had been crushed in my chest.

My body felt weak.

I needed solace. Someone to talk to. And my boyfriend wasn't the best option. I didn't want to share my problems with him right now. Not when our own issues were sitting unspoken between us.

A name popped up.

Reah.

My best friend.

She knows everything. All my struggles. All my life. How we met was pathetic, but it was worth it.

I picked up my phone and called.

"Hey, girl! What's up? What's popping!"

I couldn't speak. I just cried.

"Rose? Rosie, are you okay?"

I heard worry creep into her voice.

"Rose, talk to me. Did Tom do something? Rosie!"

She kept calling out.

Tom, he can't hurt me. He isn't like that.

But I still couldn't speak.

"I'm coming over," she said.

"My job—" I finally let it out.

"What happened to your job? Tell me, Rosie. You're getting me agitated."

She was worried. I could hear it.

"You know what? Come meet me at the club. Let's grab a drink."

It was a good idea.

Or maybe something I'd regret later. Because I knew what could happen at that club.

"No problem," she said. "I'll be there soon."

I left to go meet her.

I sat by the window in the taxi, forehead pressed against the cool glass. The city blurred past lights and shapes and lives that made sense in ways mine didn't.

My mother's situation

My job. Gone.

My relationship. A question mark I was too tired to examine.

The woman in the reflection stared back at me. Dark circles. Empty eyes.

Who are you becoming? I asked her.

She didn't answer.

The club's neon sign flickered ahead. I stood, smoothed my dress, and walked toward the bass.

Reah was already at the bar, waiting.

I sighed and walked straight to her. The club was lively. The bar was packed with people laughing, talking.

She'd saved a seat.

I sat down.

She hugged me. Didn't say anything. Just let me breathe.

Then she handed me a drink.