5
874 Words
The first thing I felt when I opened my eyes was regret. Regret for the extra glass of champagne at Mom’s birthday party, regret for the endless polite smiles I’d plastered on for distant relatives,my father's business partners.The hangover I have is so bad I had to use some painkillers. My phone buzzed on the nightstand reminding me about yesterday’s message still I ignored it.
Monday morning rolled by quickly and getting ready for work was quick thankfully got myself a cup of coffee and cupcakes and also ensured to get a cup of coffee for Lorenzo also just how he likes it.I settled in and got all files ready,and everything was going well until afternoon when I had to drop off a file in Lorenzo’s office after lunch .
It wasn’t jealousy that stung me.
Jealousy is loud. It claws, it demands, it throws things against walls.
What I felt wasn’t any of that.
Like air thinning in a room without warning.
The kind of realization that doesn’t break you,I carried the Byrne contracts with both hands, steady, professional, unfazed. Or at least I knew how to look unfazed. Image was a skill I learned early.
I opened the opened after knocking thrice with no answer.
I wasn’t prepared for what I saw next upon entering the office,then I saw her blonde hair first then her.
Isabella.Sitting on his tighs,mouth inches apart from his,her gaze was on him, but her hand was in his hair, brushing it back from his forehead as though she had done it so many times the gesture required no thought.
Lorenzo had his hands around her waist.
He wasn’t indulging her.
But he wasn’t stopping her either.
That was the part that mattered.
His eyes lifted.
Found mine instantly.
Like he felt me enter the room.
I stepped in, placed the contracts on the corner of the desk.
“These are the Byrne’s team documents you requested,” I said.
“They need your signature before the three o’clock call.”
Isabella slid off him with elegance,she didn’t look at me only at him.
“I’ll see you tonight?” she asked, her voice soft, seductive.
Something unreadable passed through his expression something quiet and knowing.
He didn’t answer immediately.
Isabella didn’t wait for his response. She smoothed her blouse, picked up her coat from the chair, and walked past me. Her perfume lingered in the air.
The door clicked behind her.
Lorenzo stood slowly, like the air in the room required caution.
“Sophia.”
My name was low. Rough at the edges.
I kept my gaze on the documents, though I wasn’t actually seeing them.
“There’s nothing to explain,” I said, tone even. “Your personal life doesn’t concern me.”
His brows lowered slightly, the faintest crease.
“That’s not what this is.”
“Isn’t it?” I finally met his eyes. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks fairly straightforward.”
Something shifted in the space between us.
Something quiet.
“You’re assuming,” he said.
“No. I’m observing.”
I stepped back.
“We’ll discuss this later,” he said.
“There’s nothing to discuss.”
I walked out before he could answer.
Because staying would mean feeling something I didn’t have permission to feel.
The rest of the day passed like being underwater soundless. I completed reports, answered emails, briefed clients. Muscle memory.
But every now and then, their image flickered into my mind.
Everything passed by quick and the day came to an end I was so glad.
Maya knocked once and then entered without waiting which was typical Maya behavior. She sat on the corner of my desk, studying me.
“Okay,” she said.
“Tell me why you’re sitting like someone removed your soul and forgot to return it.”
I let out a tired breath.
“I saw Isabella in Lorenzo’s office.”
Maya blinked. “As in… talking, or talking?”
“She was touching him.”
Maya winced. “Oh.”
I simply pressed my fingers against the table, grounding myself into something solid.
“It’s fine,” I said.
“No,” Maya responded softly. “It’s really not.”
“It has to be.”
I looked up at her. “Because we’re nothing.”
“That doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt.”
“You care about him. That’s allowed, you know.”“It’s not.”
And that was the truth.
Because caring means vulnerability and vulnerability is expensive.
It demands something in return.
And I have never been able to afford that.
I changed out of my blouse into something soft, and sat on my bed with the lights off after Maya left. The city buzzed outside my window life continuing whether I kept pace or not.
My phone stayed face-down.
Not because I expected a message.
But because I didn’t want to admit I was waiting for one.
The realization that connection is not always possession hit me, that wanting something doesn’t mean you’re meant to have it.
I closed my eyes.
“I’m fine,” I whispered.
Not to convince myself.
Just to hear the sound of my own voice when I said it.
- Writer
