Chapter 12
1073words
At the airport, he crushed me against his chest like he might never see me again.
"Wait for me."
I couldn't speak, so I just nodded.
Life became a lonely routine after he left.
Vanessa—through what I assumed was black magic—colluded with our department supervisor.
My workload promptly doubled.
Each night, I'd collapse on the sofa like a deflated balloon, too exhausted to even move.
Cooking became a distant memory.
Physical exhaustion could be fixed with sleep.
Mental torture was another story.
Because suddenly, I was being accused of embezzling company funds.
And I knew exactly whose perfectly manicured hand was behind it.
"Look at her—just a junior accountant making what, five grand a month?"
"How the hell is she affording Chanel's latest bracelet?"
"And that perfume I spotted in her drawer—"
"This year's release—costs more than she makes in two months."
"You think she's dropping that kind of cash legitimately?"
They say three women together create drama.
I sat frozen in the bathroom stall, listening to Vanessa's poison outside.
Every word crystal clear through the thin door.
The same witch who'd called my bracelet fake was now using it as evidence against me.
The same person who was framing me for theft.
A snake can shed its skin, but it's still a snake.
I slammed the stall door open.
They jumped like guilty cats, clearly not expecting company.
Especially not the star of their little drama.
I walked calmly to the sink and shook the water from my hands with deliberate force.
Water sprayed across their perfectly made-up faces.
"What the hell, Sophie? Are you blind? The paper towels are right there! You splashed water all over us!"
Vanessa's voice hit a pitch only dogs should hear.
"Oh, I saw them. I just didn't want to use them. Because..."
I paused dramatically, my eyes sweeping over each guilty face.
One by one, they looked away, suddenly fascinated by the floor tiles.
"Some people's mouths are so full of shit they need a good washing!"
"Maybe they forgot to brush this morning—the stench of lies is overwhelming!"
I locked eyes with Vanessa, letting her see the fury behind mine.
For a second, I saw a flicker of fear in her perfectly lined eyes.
"Big talk in the bathroom, Sophie!"
"If you're so innocent, go explain to everyone where that bracelet came from."
"Don't tell me your broke-ass boyfriend bought it."
"Everyone knows your boyfriend is just another wage slave."
"Like he could afford something worth six figures?"
"Who are you kidding—us or yourself?"
Vanessa sashayed out, her hips swinging like a metronome.
Just before closing time, I was summoned to the supervisor's office.
"Sophie, the company is suspending you for a month."
"Once this... situation... is resolved, you can return."
He didn't even bother looking up from his papers.
His dismissive tone made my stomach turn.
"Sir, I need some kind of timeline here."
"How am I supposed to pay my bills without income?"
I fought to keep my voice steady despite the rage boiling inside me.
"You should have thought about that before dipping into the company coffers."
"A bit late for concerns now, isn't it? You made your bed."
He looked at me with thinly veiled contempt, not bothering with anything resembling an investigation.
Based on office gossip, he'd already signed my professional death warrant.
I slammed the door hard enough to rattle the glass as I left.
That night, curled up alone in bed, the weight of despair crushed me.
I missed James so badly it hurt.
But I had no idea when he'd be back.
As if summoned by my thoughts, my phone lit up with James's video call.
I quickly wiped my face—thank God, no visible tears.
When the call connected, his smile filled my screen.
The lighting around him was dim, like he was standing in some hotel hallway.
"Where are you? It's so dark there."
James reached toward the camera as if trying to touch my face.
"Just got back to my room. The walls here are paper-thin, so I stepped into the hallway to call you."
"I miss you, honey."
His voice was achingly tender.
"So... anything interesting happen lately?"
The memory of my workplace nightmare hit me, and I couldn't stop the sniffle that escaped.
I quickly pretended something was in my eye, rubbing it frantically to explain away any tears.
I couldn't burden him with this.
That was my first instinct.
He was hustling for our future, even traveling internationally for work.
How could I pile more stress on him?
"What's wrong? Something in your eye?"
I just nodded, not trusting my voice.
I mumbled something about washing my face and ended the call.
Only when the screen went dark did I let the tears flow freely.
But little did I know, as terrible as things seemed,
The universe wasn't done messing with me yet.
With no paycheck coming in, even decent takeout was a luxury I couldn't afford.
I was terrified of blowing through our meager savings.
But bargain-bin takeout wasn't just disgusting.
It was downright dangerous.
I ended up in the ER at 3 AM.
The doctor took one look and said food poisoning.
Enema, stomach pump, IV fluids.
They tortured me with medical procedures until I was too weak to even cry.
Through the haze of pain, I heard a nurse asking about emergency contacts.
My brain was too foggy to process. I might have shaken my head.
Or maybe I mumbled James's name.
"How is she doing?"
A voice cut through my delirium.
Impossibly, it sounded like James.
"Food poisoning from contaminated takeout. We've pumped her stomach. She's stable, fortunately."
"But she'll need to be on a bland diet for a while."
After the doctor's explanation, silence fell over the room.
I forced my heavy eyelids open. The sterile white ceiling swam into focus.
And there was James, looking exhausted and worried sick.
"You're..."
I tried to speak, but he gently pressed a finger to my lips.
The familiar warmth of his hand on mine confirmed he wasn't a hallucination.
"Shh. Rest. I'm here now."
His eyes met mine, and somehow everything felt manageable again.
After a week in the hospital, my strength gradually returned.
And miraculously, I was cleared to return to work.
Because the day I was discharged, James paid a visit to my workplace.
