My Psychotic Boss

Reunion of Hell

The air inside the reunion hall was dense with perfume, laughter, and nostalgia. Twinkling string lights hung from the ceiling, casting a warm, dreamy glow across the tables that had been dressed in pale linens and scattered with glossy photographs from school yearbooks.

Seren stepped through the double doors beside Delaney, her footsteps hesitant, her pastel outfit hugging her awkwardly. The color was soft, the cut delicate, but it clashed with Seren's more muted personality. The outfit looked natural on Delaney, like something she had been born to wear, but on Seren, it felt like a costume.

Delaney had picked it out that morning at Seren's apartment, insisting on the match. "We'll look so cute together," she had said with a gleaming smile, holding up two nearly identical outfits. "Like we planned it. Trust me, pastel pink is really your color."

Seren had opened her mouth to protest, but Delaney was already holding the dress against her with a grin too big to argue with. Seren didn't want to seem difficult. She rarely did. So she nodded with a weak smile, even though the dress made her shoulders feel broader and her posture feel smaller.

Now, as they entered the venue, she immediately regretted her silence. The laughter began quietly, short bursts of high-pitched giggles from a table of women near the entrance. A few leaned toward one another, whispering, their eyes tracking Seren as she followed Delaney across the room.

"She seriously wore the same outfit as Delaney?" one of them said in a stage whisper.

"Is she trying to become her?"

More laughter. Someone snapped a photo, probably to share later with a mocking caption. Seren pretended not to hear it, but her skin flushed, and her hands itched to adjust the dress, pull it down, or maybe off completely. Delaney, of course, seemed oblivious. She walked confidently, her high heels tapping rhythmically on the floor, her short hair swaying. She flashed smiles at people they passed, waved at old friends. Seren trailed behind her like an afterthought.

They found an open table near the center of the room. As they sat down, a group of women immediately migrated over to Delaney's side. Some were clearly old classmates, girls who had once ruled the school hallways with lip gloss, charm, and venom.

"Delaney! Oh my God, you haven't changed a bit," one of them squealed.

"I know, right?" Delaney replied with a modest laugh, brushing her hair with her fingers gently.

A woman with icy blue eyes and a thin, calculating smile leaned in closer. "So... she's still following you around, huh?" She tilted her head toward Seren.

Seren blinked, confused. "I'm sorry, what—"

Another girl cut her off. "Don't pretend you don't know what we're talking about. We've seen the pictures. You dress like her now, you're always next to her at work events, people talk, you know."

"She's obsessed," someone muttered.

Delaney gave a laugh, light and polished. "No, it's not like that."

"She torments you, right?" one woman pressed. "We always thought she was a little... intense. Didn't you say she made things uncomfortable at the office?"

Seren stared at Delaney, waiting for her to correct them, to say something, anything, that would shut down the narrative unraveling around her. But Delaney hesitated. And in that silence, the room turned colder. Delaney finally smiled again and said, "It's complicated," in a soft voice.

The phrase cracked something in Seren. Her fingers tightened around the stem of her glass. "I didn't—I'm not tormenting her," she said, her voice low but firm.

The women barely glanced at her. Delaney laughed again, an easy, breezy deflection. "Let's not talk about that. It's a party!" she said, clapping her hands together, and just like that, the topic was changed. But the damage was already done. Seren sat in silence, eyes fixed on the flickering candle in the center of the table. She could hear the laughter again, this time louder, this time closer.

She didn't understand what had just happened.

Had Delaney set her up? Or was this just a cruel misunderstanding Delaney was too weak, or too cunning, to correct? Seren remembered school all too well: the isolation, the whispering behind her back, the notes stuffed in her locker. She had thought those years were behind her. But now, here she was again, in a room full of people who had already decided who she was. And once again, no one would listen. Especially not Delaney.

Delaney was smiling, chatting with her former classmates like nothing had happened. She leaned in close to a woman beside her, whispering something that made the group erupt in laughter.

Seren stood up, suddenly needing air. "I'll be right back," she murmured, but no one heard her. She walked to the edge of the hall and stepped out onto a small patio. The cool night air hit her skin and gave her a second to breathe. The stars were out, barely visible over the city lights, but they calmed her. Distant, still, and silent. Unlike the noise inside. She leaned against the railing and closed her eyes.

Back inside, Delaney glanced toward the door. One of the girls leaned over. "Poor thing," she said, her voice laced with sarcasm. "You always were too nice to her."

Delaney smiled, soft and ambiguous. "Yeah," she said. "I guess I've always just had a soft spot."