LADY OF THE NIGHT

CHAPTER SIX

EXHAUSTION

ANDREA

Since I started working at Trapped, adjusting to a normal daytime routine has been anything but easy and my body still hasn’t caught up with the sudden shift, and every day feels like I’m forcing myself into a rhythm that doesn’t belong to me from between juggling this job and everything else, I barely have time to think, let alone rest and now, with the deal we just closed, things have only gotten worse.

The delivery date is much closer than what we’re used to, leaving little room for error and even less time to breathe, the pressure has been constant, suffocating even. Everyone has been scrambling to meet deadlines, double-checking details, running last-minute confirmations. It’s exhausting.

For me, it’s worse, working at night instead of sleeping, then showing up here during the day as though I’m fully functional and it’s starting to take its toll. My body aches in quiet ways, my eyes burn no matter how much I blink, and my mind drifts when it shouldn’t, I’m in the middle of a yawn, one that stretches deep into my chest, when I hear a knock on my office door.

I straighten slightly, forcing myself to look somewhat presentable.

“Who is that?” I call out, my voice carrying just enough authority to mask my fatigue.

“Sarah, ma’am.”

“Okay, come in.”

The door opens gently, and Sarah steps in with her usual composed demeanor, she moves with quiet efficiency, her posture straight, her expression calm but alert and even on days like this, she looks like she has everything under control.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, ma’am,” she begins, her accent soft but clear, “but the Chad deal, they’re requesting a conference call with us and they want to go over some changes before delivery.”

I feel my body go still for a second.

Changes?

“They want to make changes to the contract or the order?” I ask, keeping my tone neutral.

My face remains blank, but inside, my heart begins to race, we don’t have the luxury for complications right now.

“They want to make a change to the order,” she clarifies. “They mentioned a special request.”

Of course they did, I inhale slowly, forcing myself to think instead of react.

“Okay then,” I say after a brief pause. “Tell them I’ll be available on Thursday at 3 p.m, we can have the meeting on Zoom.”

“Okay, ma’am. I’ll let them know.”

She turns toward the door, already mentally moving on to her next task. But just before she steps out—

“Wait!”

My voice comes out sharper than I intended.

She pauses immediately and turns back to me.

“Ma’am?”

“For the remaining one hour I’ll be here,” I say, adjusting my tone, “I don’t want to receive any guests, if anything urgent comes up, have it sent to my email.”

“Okay, ma.”

She gives a small nod and exits, closing the door softly behind her and the moment the latch clicks into place, the silence in my office feels heavier than before.

Sarah.

I don’t know what I would do without her, she’s a foreigner, yet somehow she understands this place and me better than most people who have been here longer. Efficient doesn’t even begin to describe her, she anticipates problems before they happen, handles situations before they escalate, and somehow manages to keep everything running smoothly even when everything is falling apart and most importantly, she’s the only person I know who can keep my aunt out of my office.

That alone deserves a medal, my aunt has a presence that tends to overwhelm people loud, intrusive, impossible to ignore and most employees shrink under her sharp gaze and relentless questions but not Sarah.

She stands her ground, calm and unshaken, meeting my aunt’s energy with a quiet firmness that never crosses the line into disrespect and watching the two of them interact is entertaining, to say the least.

Their banter is one of the few things that can make me laugh on days like this, I let out a slow breath and lean back in my chair, the tension in my shoulders refusing to ease.

One hour.

That’s all I have, one hour before I have to leave this place and step into my other life, the one that drains me in completely different ways and I push myself up from the chair and glance around my office, as though seeing it properly for the first time today.

It’s large, larger than I initially expected when I took this position, the walls are a soft shade of cream, clean and understated, giving the room a sense of quiet professionalism, behind my desk, a wide glass window stretches across nearly the entire wall, offering a view of the city below.

From up here, everything looks smaller, cars move like slow, crawling insects, people are nothing more than distant figures, their individual struggles invisible from this height. Sometimes, I wonder if this is what power feels like being removed enough to observe everything without being touched by it but I’m very much touched by it.

My desk is sleek, dark wood with a polished surface that reflects the overhead lighting and files are neatly stacked to one side, Sarah’s doing, not mine and my laptop sits open at the center, its screen dimming slightly as it waits for input I haven’t had the energy to give.

There’s a faint scent of lavender in the air, coming from the diffuser placed on a small side table near the couch. It’s meant to be calming, and on most days, it works.

Today, it barely makes a difference.

The couch itself is positioned against the far wall. a soft gray piece that looks far more inviting than my chair ever could, a small glass table sits in front of it, currently holding nothing but a closed notebook and a pen I don’t remember putting there, the entire space is a reflection of control. Order. Precision.

Everything I’m struggling to maintain within myself.

I walk over to the couch slowly, my heels clicking softly against the tiled floor and each step feels heavier than it should, as though my body is finally demanding the rest I’ve been denying it, I sink into the couch with a quiet sigh, letting my head fall back against the cushion.

For a moment, I just sit there, staring at the ceiling.

Then I close my eyes, I haven’t been able to get anything from the club and that thought lingers at the edge of my mind, refusing to go away.

Every night I step onto that stage, I feel it, the weight of unseen eyes watching me, not in the usual way or the kind of attention I’m used to, this is different.

It makes my skin prickle, my movements more calculated, my awareness heightened in a way I can’t explain. It’s distracting, unsettling… and dangerous because I need to focus, I need to get something useful and yet, nothing.

Coupled with everything else, it’s starting to frustrate me more than I’d like to admit, I exhale slowly, turning slightly on the couch to get more comfortable. My body relaxes inch by inch, the exhaustion finally beginning to win, maybe just a short nap.

Just enough to reset and enough to make it through the rest of the day and the night that follows, I pull one arm over my eyes, blocking out the light.

“Let’s hope I can get something useful today…”

The words barely leave my lips, softer than a whisper and that is my last thought before sleep finally takes me.