Mondays are cursed.
Between back-to-back client calls, a broken printer, and Ryan Santillan breathing down my neck like a human deadlines calendar, I'm already running on caffeine and spite.
I don't expect to see a ghost from my past walk through the lobby wearing an ill-fitting polo and carrying a manila folder like it's the only thing left holding his life together.
But there he is.
Henry Manuel.
He's thinner. Darker around the eyes. The swagger he once wore like a crown has crumbled into slouched shoulders and nervous hands.
For a second, I wonder if I'm hallucinating from lack of sleep.
Then his eyes lift—and they meet mine.
He freezes.
So do I.
"Samantha..."
My name on his tongue tastes like a bruise.
I take a slow breath. "What are you doing here?"
He scratches the back of his neck. "I, uh... saw a job post online. Office messenger. Said they needed someone ASAP."
I blink. The irony is almost too rich.
"You're applying here?"
He nods slowly. "Didn't know... you worked here."
Of course he didn't. He never kept track of anything unless it served him.
Before I can respond, the HR assistant appears with a clipboard and gestures him toward the small queue of applicants. He gives me one last look before turning away—one part regret, one part shame.
I should feel satisfaction.
I don't.
I feel... nothing.21Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡsTpwvDPfTx
Just this numb hum in my chest, like a bell that used to ring but doesn't echo anymore.
Later that day, I find Ryan by the elevator.
He glances at me. "You okay?"
I nod. "I just saw the past trying to work the mailroom."
He raises an eyebrow but doesn't press. "Should I fire him before he gets hired?"
I smirk. "No need. Let the system humiliate him on its own."
Ryan pauses. "Is he the reason you look like you swallowed your spine when you saw him?"
I didn't answer. I don't need to.
Because the elevator dings, and I step in.21Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ8hC9TvpcUN
And I leave Henry right where he belongs—on the ground floor.
21Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhk71j77Ea0
