TWISTED FATE

The coffee machine hissed like an angry cat. Tony jabbed the button again, harder this time, and a thin stream of lukewarm brown liquid dribbled into his mug. He didn't even like coffee—this was for Rose, who'd rushed out the door with her blazer inside out and one earring missing. Again. Across town, Rose balanced her laptop case against her hip while pressing the elevator button with her elbow. The doors slid open to reveak the CEO of the company—already inside, leaning against the mirrored wall with a half-empty espresso cup in hand. Their eyes met for a beat too long before Rose stepped in, catching her own reflection: the inside-out tag of her blazer poking above her collar like a guilty thought. The elevator smelled like lemons and something sharper—cologne or cleaning fluid. Neither spoke as floors blinked past, just the hum of machinery and the tap of Rose’s heel against the floor. When the CEO suddenly reached over to flip her collar right side out, fingers brushing her neck, Rose inhaled sharply. The coffee in Tony’s mug would be cold by now. "So," the CEO said, voice low, eyes still on the ascending numbers, "you always dress in the dark?" Rose laughed, too loud, then bit her lip. The mirrored walls made it impossible not to see how close they stood, how the boss’s thumb lingered on the tag before tucking it away. Somewhere below, Tony was probably texting her about dinner plans. The elevator dinged—18th floor. Still 7 to go. The CEO nudged the espresso cup toward her. "You look like you need this more than I do." Rose hesitated, then took it, her fingers brushing against theirs. The coffee was bitter, perfect, nothing like the weak sludge Tony made. The silence stretched, thick with things unsaid. Outside, Manhattan sprawled beneath them, tiny cars like toys, the East River a dull glint in the morning haze. Rose stepped onto her floor, the elevator doors sighing shut behind her. The espresso burned her tongue—she hadn't waited for it to cool. Around her, the office buzzed with early energy: keyboards clacking, phones trilling, someone laughing too loud near the water cooler. But all she could hear was the ghost of that quiet chuckle in the elevator, the way her boss's fingers had grazed her wrist when she took the cup. She pulled her blazer tighter, as if it could shield her from whatever this was. Her desk smelled like lemon sanitizer and stale pretzels from yesterday's lunch. Rose booted up her computer, fingers hovering over the keyboard. Her calendar notification popped up—"Dinner with Tony, 7 PM"—and she swiped it away like a crumb. Across the open-plan office, she caught movement through the glass walls of the corner office: She saw her friend Krystal smirk when she saw Rose watching. Then whispered something to a colleague. Rose pulled up the quarterly report she was supposed to be editing, but the numbers blurred. Her phone vibrated—Tony sending a selfie with their puppy, his grin wide and uncomplicated. She typed a heart emoji and set the phone face-down just as footsteps approached. Krystal dropped into the chair beside her, twirling a pen. "So," Krystal said, nodding toward the corner office, "girl, guess what happened last time?!" Rose's eyes widened with curiosity, though she tried to force her expression neutral. "Girl what?" she whispered, but before Krystal could answer, the corner office door clicked open— their floor manager Jeff stepping out, gaze sliding past the cubicles like a searchlight. Krystal immediately straightened up, pen clattering onto Rose's desk. "Later," she mouthed, scurrying back to her station. The scent of fresh coffee drifted from Jeff's mug as he walked past, and Rose instinctively touched her lips, still faintly tingling from the CEO's espresso. When she glanced toward the glass walls again, she saw it—The CEO watching her from the conference room, one hand resting on the table like they're annoyed with the meeting. The eye contact lasted only a second before they both turned away, but it sent a jolt through Rose's stomach, equal parts thrill and shame. Her phone buzzed again—Tony, this time with a voice note. She hesitated, then pressed play near her ear. "Babe, should I grab those salmon fillets you like for tonight?" His voice was warm, oblivious. The floor manager chose that moment to walk by her desk, his polished shoes pausing just within her peripheral vision. Rose read the message without replying, her throat tight. "Six months out, right? The wedding?" Jeff said suddenly, leaning against her cubicle wall. He sipped his coffee, leaving a faint smear on the rim. "My wife still complains I waited til the last minute to rent my tux." Rose forced a laugh, fingers tightening around her mouse. Through the glass, she saw the CEO stand abruptly in the conference room—a sharp movement that made two junior analysts flinch. Krystal's IM popped up on her screen: *Guess Who came to my house last night?* Rose blinked at the message, Jeff's voice fading into white noise as his lips moved—something about floral arrangements and cake tastings. The cursor blinked accusingly on the unfinished report. She typed back with one hand: *Who?* just as Jeff tapped her monitor. "You're zoning out on me, Johnson." Krystal's reply appeared in bold letters: *The same person whose standing in front of you.* With Rose shocked she minimized the window too fast, knocking her stapler to the floor. Jeff chuckled, mistaking her panic for wedding stress. "Deep breaths, Johnson," he said, patting her shoulder, "it's just cake. Nobody dies from buttercream." But Rose wasn't breathing at all—the CEO had stopped mid-stride in the conference room, staring directly at Jeff's hand on her blazer.Rose's thumb smeared condensation from the abandoned espresso cup onto her spacebar. Jeff followed her gaze toward the conference room and chuckled. "Bigwigs always look like they're plotting world domination in there, huh?" The CEO's finger curled in a slow, deliberate beckon—not at Rose, but at Jeff. The floor manager straightened his tie instantly, muttering "excuse me" as he hurried toward the glass doors. Rose watched his reflection warp in the polished surface as he entered, saw him lean in too close to the CEO's space—a habit that made junior associates squirm. The CEO whispered something that made Jeff's smile freeze. Rose bit the inside of her cheek, tasting copper. The conference room had that eerie corporate aquarium effect—everyone inside visible but voices muffled—but she didn't need to hear to understand. The CEO's mouth moved with surgical precision, one finger tapping the laminated harassment policy sheet left on the table from last month's mandatory training. Jeff's shoulders hunched like a child being scolded. Her fingers flew over the keyboard: *WHAT DO YOU MEAN JEFF WAS AT YOUR HOUSE?!* The caps lock felt insufficient. Krystal's reply bubble blinked for an agonizing ten seconds before popping up: *Girl he brought "paperwork" at 11PM wearing gym shorts. He swear it was important. Important enough to hear his wife yelling on the phone when he was outside of my door."* Rose's stomach twisted. The espresso turned acidic in her throat. The conference room door swung open—Jeff emerging pale-faced, clutching his coffee like a lifeline. Behind him, the CEO adjusted their cufflinks with deliberate calm, gaze flickering to Rose's screen for half a heartbeat. Jeff's wedding ring caught the fluorescent light as he rubbed his forehead. Rose suddenly hear Krystal mimicking Jeff's wife's nasally laugh at last year's holiday party—*"Oh Jeffrey, you're such a tard!"*—while Jeff pretended not to hear. People in the office begin to laugh in unison Krystal's final IM popped up: *Turns out Mrs. Floor Manager used to be my high school bully.* Rose exhaled sharply, picturing Krystal's Cheshire grin through the cubicle walls. Somewhere between the espresso and Jeff's trembling hands, the morning's weight shifted—less like guilt now, more like standing at the edge of a diving board. Krystal then told rose that jeff and her was going on over "paperwork" until 2 in the morning. Rose typed furiously, fingers slipping on the keys: *3 HOURS OF PAPERWORK?! WHAT WERE HE FILING, HIS DIVORCE PAPERS?* The reply came instantly—a pixelated wink emoji followed by *girl you know the kind of paperwork that makes a man sweat through your gym shorts.* Rose’s face burned as she glanced toward Jeff, now slumped at his desk massaging his temples. His wedding band gleamed dully under the office lights, same as Tony’s would right now in his own cubicle across town. Krystal’s chair creaked as she leaned back just enough for Rose to see her smirk. "He went to the gym alright," she stage-whispered, rolling her eyes toward Jeff’s sagging posture. "Gotta work on those… filing skills tho." Rose choked on a laugh, turning it into a cough as Jeff’s head snapped up. But Krystal’s grin was pure mischief, the kind that used to get them detention in high school—the same grin she’d worn when they stole vodka from Rose’s parents’ liquor cabinet the night she turned 18.