A Trip
1588 Words
Irene let out a long, weary sigh, the sound barely audible over the steady thud of her aching footsteps against the stairs.
Her legs trembled beneath her, the strain of repeated trips up and down the floors sapping what little energy she had left.
Her arms burned from the weight of the thick files she clutched to her chest, and every muscle in her body screamed in protest.
She had lost track of how many times she had climbed these stairs today. Three? Four? Maybe even more. It didn’t matter anymore.
The only thing that mattered was the fact that she had no choice but to keep going.
Her first day at work, and she was already being punished.
The thought made her chest tighten with frustration, but she swallowed it down, forcing herself to focus on placing one foot in front of the other.
She had been in a hurry earlier, just trying to do her job, and in her desperation, she had unknowingly stepped into the CEO’s private elevator.
A simple mistake.
One that should have warranted nothing more than a warning.
But Mr. Blackwood had not been the type to raise his voice. He hadn’t yelled, hadn’t scolded her in front of everyone. No, his punishment had been far more effective.
Without so much as a change in expression, he had ordered her to take the stairs for the rest of the day.
The weight of his words had settled over her like a suffocating blanket, leaving no room for protest. And now, hours later, she was paying the price.
Her calves burned, her feet ached from the unfamiliar pinch of her new work heels, and a thin sheen of sweat clung to her skin despite the cool air conditioning in the building. Still, she bit her lip and kept moving.
She couldn’t afford to mess this up.
The last thing she needed was to lose this job before she even had a chance to prove herself.
At last, after what felt like an eternity, she reached the final flight of stairs leading to the top floor. Her breath came in shallow gasps, and the moment her eyes landed on the door ahead, a rush of relief surged through her.
She was almost there.
Just one more step—
But before she could fully register what was happening, her foot caught on the edge of the last step.
The world tilted.
A sharp gasp escaped her lips as her balance shifted, the heavy files in her arms wobbling precariously. Her hands scrambled to steady them, but it was too late.
Gravity yanked her forward, and the cold, unforgiving floor rushed up to meet her.
A sharp pang of panic surged through her chest, her mind already bracing for the humiliating impact—
But it never came.
Instead, something firm and steady caught her at the last second, stopping her fall just inches from disaster.
Warmth.
Strong hands gripped her waist, steadying her with an effortless ease that sent a jolt of shock through her body. Another hand pressed lightly against her back, reassuring and unshakable.
For a brief, disoriented moment, she just stood there, frozen in place, the weight of the files still teetering dangerously in her arms.
Then, slowly, the hands guided her upright, setting her back on her feet as if she weighed nothing at all.
Her heart hammered against her ribs, the rapid thudding filling her ears. She had been seconds away from completely humiliating herself in front of—
She barely managed to adjust her grip on the files before forcing herself to mumble a quick, breathless, “Thank you.”
Without looking up, she hurried forward, desperate to escape before she made an even bigger fool of herself.
There was no time for distractions.
Mr. Blackwood was waiting, and she had already wasted enough time.
But behind her, the man who had just saved her from disaster remained where he was, watching her retreat with quiet amusement.
He adjusted his glasses with a slow, practiced motion, his lips curving into the faintest hint of a smirk.
“Interesting,” he murmured to himself before turning and walking away.
Irene barely had time to compose herself before reaching the heavy doors of the CEO’s office.
The air inside was crisp and silent, the weight of authority pressing down the moment she stepped in.
And there he was.
Mr. Blackwood.
Seated behind his massive desk, his sharp features were devoid of emotion, his piercing gaze locked onto the wristwatch strapped to his wrist.
The silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating.
Then, in a voice as cold as ice, he spoke.
“You’re twenty seconds late.”
The words sent a chill down her spine.
Twenty seconds?
Her breath hitched slightly, her exhaustion momentarily forgotten. She had climbed what felt like a thousand stairs, her arms sore from carrying the files, her entire body on the verge of collapse—and he was counting seconds?
“Mr. Blackwood, I—”
But he didn’t give her a chance to explain.
“Get me a cup of coffee.”
That was it.
No acknowledgment of the effort she had just put in. No hint of concern for the fact that she was visibly drained from running up and down the building all day.
She swallowed down the frustration rising in her throat, her fingers tightening slightly around the files before she forced herself to nod.
Without another word, she turned and left the office, heading toward the staff kitchen.
She had no idea that something as simple as making a cup of coffee would soon become the next nightmare of her first day.
The kitchen was empty when she arrived, the hum of the refrigerator the only sound breaking the silence.
She moved quickly, her hands steady despite her fatigue as she prepared the coffee exactly the way she had been taught during training.
Taking a deep breath, she carefully carried the cup back to Mr. Blackwood’s office.
She placed it down gently on his desk and stepped back, her hands clasped together as she waited.
He lifted the cup.
Took a sip.
And then—without so much as a change in expression—he set it down with a quiet but deliberate click.
His cold gaze flickered up to her.
“Too hot.”
Irene blinked.
Too hot?
She clenched her jaw, biting back the urge to say something she’d regret. Instead, she nodded stiffly, picked up the cup, and returned to the kitchen.
This time, she let the coffee cool for a few minutes before bringing it back.
Another sip.
“Too cold.”
Her fingers tightened slightly around the hem of her skirt.
She turned on her heel and tried again.
This time, she made sure the temperature was just right.
He took another sip.
“Too sweet.”
Her eye twitched.
She went back.
“Too bitter.”
By the fifth attempt, she was beyond frustrated.
Beyond drained.
But still, she forced herself to keep going.
As she stirred yet another cup of coffee, her hands trembling slightly, she heard the sound of approaching footsteps.
A woman appeared beside her, watching with an amused smile.
"Need some help?"
Irene turned, taking in the woman’s poised stance and confident expression.
She hesitated before nodding.
The woman smirked. “Relax. Let me show you how to make coffee the ‘Blackwood’ way.”
Irene inhaled deeply, steadying her hands as she watched the woman beside her put the finishing touches on the coffee.
The rich aroma of freshly brewed espresso filled the break room, mingling with the faint traces of vanilla and caramel from other drinks being prepared nearby. It was comforting in a way, grounding her in the moment.
The woman, a tall blonde with an air of effortless confidence, slid the cup toward Irene with a small smirk.
“That should do it,” she said, wiping her hands on a napkin before tossing it into the bin.
Irene hesitated for half a second before wrapping her fingers around the warm ceramic, the heat seeping into her palms.
“Thank you,” she murmured, her voice quieter than she intended. There was relief in her tone—relief that the coffee was finally made, relief that she wouldn’t mess this up.
The woman merely shrugged, her lips curving into something amused. “No pressure. You’ll get used to it.”
And with that, she turned on her heel, her high heels clicking with measured precision against the polished floor as she walked away, leaving Irene standing there, still gripping the cup like a lifeline.
Irene swallowed hard, glancing down at the dark liquid inside. It was just coffee. A simple task. Yet, the weight of it in her hands felt heavier than it should have.
Straightening her posture, she let out a slow breath and made her way back toward Mr. Blackwood’s office, her every step deliberate.
The hallway leading to his office felt longer than before, the air thicker, as if anticipation itself was pressing in on her. The silence stretched, broken only by the faint hum of distant conversations behind closed doors.
When she finally reached the massive door, she hesitated only for a second before raising a hand and knocking lightly.
Almost immediately, the door swung open.
Her breath caught, because Mr blackwood was standing directly in front of the door and they had almost collided.
Prepare your things we are going on a trip.
- Writer
