THE JEALOUS EYES AROUND HER
1238 Words
By midday, the whispers had grown like wildfire—quiet at first, like little sparks in a dry forest… then spreading, catching, burning across the floor of the company until almost everyone had something to say.
“Why does Mr. Hash talk to her like that?”
“She’s new and already getting special treatment.”
“She must be doing something.”
Every word fell on Sophia’s skin like tiny needles. She tried to ignore them—tried to bury herself in her work, tried to pretend she didn’t hear the envy, the bitterness, the judgment wrapped in casual comments.
But whispers had a way of finding the cracks in your confidence, slipping in like cold air under a door.
Sophia kept her head down, lips tight, hands steady… but her heart was restless. Her mind was noisy. Her breath felt shallow.
Mrs. Kate especially was boiling.
Her movements were stiffer, sharper.
Her voice clipped.
Her eyes suspicious.
It was like every little thing Sophia did suddenly irritated her—the way she typed, the way she arranged her desk, even the way she greeted people.
First, the praise at the interview.
Then, Hash noticing her.
Now this—him showing up in their department, staring at Sophia like the world had narrowed and she was at the center.
It was too much for Kate’s pride.
Finally, around noon, Mrs. Kate called Sophia into her office.
“Sophia,” she began, tapping her pen against the table with an almost musical irritation, “do you have any personal connection with Mr. Hash?”
Sophia blinked, shocked by the bluntness.
“No. None at all.”
Kate didn’t believe her—not fully.
Her eyes stayed on Sophia’s face a moment too long, searching… questioning… measuring her words against her expression.
Then finally, she sighed.
“Be careful,” she said quietly. “People are watching.”
Sophia nodded and stepped out of the office.
The hallway felt colder.
Her chest felt tighter.
She leaned against the wall, exhaling shakily.
Everything was becoming too much—her coworkers judging her, Hash suddenly acting differently around her… and behind all that, the heaviest weight: her secret child, her past that chased her like a shadow.
She couldn’t afford trouble.
She couldn’t afford attention.
She couldn’t afford emotions.
But life wasn’t listening.
---
Later in the afternoon, when she thought the worst part of the day was over, a new problem hit her square in the chest—literally.
Tanya.
A woman with loud makeup, louder opinions, and the loudest jealousy in the building.
Sophia was walking through the hallway with a stack of important files when Tanya approached from the opposite direction, holding a full cup of hot coffee.
Their shoulders brushed lightly.
The coffee spilled completely.
Onto the files.
Onto Sophia’s hands.
All over her carefully arranged documents.
Tanya gasped dramatically—hand flying to her chest like she had witnessed a crime.
“Oh no… Look what you made me do!”
Sophia blinked, stunned.
“What I made you do?”
Tanya scoffed loudly, folding her arms like she owned the whole floor.
“You think because you caught Mr. Hash’s eye you can walk around like you’re special?”
Sophia’s heart pounded.
Her throat tightened.
“That’s not— I’m just here to work.”
Tanya rolled her eyes so hard it was almost theatrical.
“We’ll see how long you last.”
Sophia knelt down, trying to gather the ruined files even though the papers were soaked and the ink was bleeding. Her hands were shaking—part from shock, part from the pain of humiliation.
And then…
A voice cut through the hallway like thunder breaking a silent night.
“What’s going on here?”
Everyone froze.
Sophia froze.
Tanya almost jumped.
Hash stood at the end of the hallway, shoulders squared, presence heavy enough to still the air around him. His gaze swept the scene, sharp, cutting—and landed on the coffee-stained papers… and on Sophia.
Tanya instantly changed her expression—like a bad actress switching roles.
“Sir, I’m so sorry—Sophia wasn’t looking where she was going and—”
Hash didn’t even let her finish.
He walked straight past Tanya like she wasn’t even there.
Then he did something nobody—nobody—expected:
He crouched down beside Sophia.
And began helping her pick up the wet files.
The entire hallway gasped.
A silence fell so heavy it felt like time paused.
Tanya’s face drained of color.
Sophia whispered, still trembling,
“Sir, you don’t have to—”
“I do,” Hash said quietly, eyes soft only for her. “You’re not alone here.”
The warmth in his tone made her stomach flutter and her chest ache.
Then he stood, files in hand, and turned to Tanya.
His eyes had gone cold—icy, sharp, dangerous in that calm way powerful men possessed.
“Watch your steps next time,” Hash said.
A beat.
“And your attitude.”
Tanya stepped back like she’d been slapped, mouth opening then closing with no sound.
Hash turned to Sophia again, softer than anyone had ever heard him.
“Are you okay?”
Sophia couldn’t breathe.
Her heart was beating somewhere in her throat.
“Ye—ss sir,” she whispered.
He hesitated.
Then said gently,
“Take the rest of the day off.”
Her chest tightened.
“Thank you, sir.”
He nodded once… then walked away.
But even as he left, he looked back—just once—at her.
Only at her.
Like she was the only thing in that hallway that mattered.
That evening
Sophia walked home slowly, her bag hanging lightly on her shoulder, her thoughts heavier than her steps.
The sky was painted purple and gold.
Streetlights flicked on one by one, glowing like little prayers.
Her heart hadn’t stopped racing since the hallway incident.
She kept replaying everything:
How he bent down beside her…
How he defended her…
How he spoke to her…
How he looked at her like she mattered to him.
It was too much.
Too real.
Too risky.
She reached her compound gate and Adam was already sitting outside, peeling oranges.
He looked up immediately.
“Ah-ahn, Sophia,” he teased. “You look like someone who saw heaven and came back.”
She dropped her bag on a chair and sighed, rubbing her forehead.
“Adam, today was… too much.”
He smirked, tossing an orange seed into the bin.
“Let me guess… Mr. Hash again.”
Sophia froze but didn’t deny it.
Adam gave her a long, knowing look.
“Sophia… that man definitely likes you. And you—” he pointed at her chest “—your heart is beating loud like generator.”
She opened her mouth to argue but…
nothing came out.
Because he wasn’t wrong.
She looked at the sky quietly.
“Adam… it’s dangerous,” she whispered. “I can’t… we can’t…”
But she didn’t finish the sentence.
Couldn’t.
Adam leaned closer, voice softer now.
“Just be careful,” he said. “People will talk. People will fight you. But don’t lie to yourself.”
She closed her eyes.
A truth she didn’t want to accept formed in her chest:
She was falling.
Slowly.
Quietly.
Helplessly.
And maybe…
just maybe…
He was falling too.
- Writer
