She walked to the bed.
Collapsed onto it.
Didn't change.
Didn't think.
Just—
closed her eyes.
And sleep—
took her.
Morning.
Too bright.
Too late.
Leena's eyes snapped open.
She blinked.
Disoriented.
Then—
time.
Her head turned quickly toward the clock.
"…shit."
She sat up fast—
too fast.
A slight dizziness hit—
but she ignored it.
No time.
She rushed.
Clothes.
Hair.
Bag.
Everything done in fragments.
Messy.
Fast.
She stepped into the elevator—
breathing still uneven.
Reached the parking.
And stopped.
Her bicycle.
Broken.
Bent.
Chain hanging loose.
For a second—
she just stared at it.
No reaction.
Then—
she turned.
Walked out.
Stopped a taxi.
"Office."
The building was already alive.
Phones ringing.
People moving.
Voices overlapping.
Normal.
Too normal.
Leena stepped in.
And immediately—
"Leena!"
Her senior.
Angry.
Already walking toward her.
"You've taken too many leaves!"
His voice sharp.
Loud enough for others to hear.
"And now you're late too?"
She didn't look up.
"Is this professional behavior?" he continued.
"If you work like this—you'll be fired. Understand?"
Leena stood still.
Head slightly lowered.
Eyes fixed on the floor.
He stepped closer.
"Answer me."
A pause.
"I'm sorry, sir," she said quietly.
"I'll be on time."
No excuse.
No explanation.
Just—
control.
He scoffed.
Turned.
Walked back into his cabin.
Leena didn't move for a second.
Then—
she walked to her desk.
Sat down.
Files.
Papers.
Screens.
She started working.
Like nothing happened.
Around her—
the office moved.
People whispering.
Typing.
Laughing.
Someone complained about deadlines.
Another argued over numbers.
Phones kept ringing.
Life—
continued.
As if hers hadn't paused.
The office had settled into its usual rhythm again.
After lunch—
everything felt slower.
Heavier.
Leena sat at her desk.
Files open in front of her.
Numbers.
Documents.
Signatures waiting.
Her fingers moved across the papers.
Mechanical.
Precise.
As if nothing inside her had shifted.
Around her—
the office breathed normally.
Keyboards clicking.
Phones ringing.
Someone laughing in the distance.
Normal.
Too normal.
She didn't speak to anyone.
No unnecessary movement.
No wasted expression.
Just work.
Time passed quietly.
Evening crept in slowly—
sunlight fading through the windows,
turning golden… then dim.
Leena closed the last file.
The office felt unusually quiet that evening.
Leena shut down her system slowly.
Not rushed.
Not tired.
Just… done.
Her eyes lifted once—
toward the glass cabin at the end of the floor.
Sami's cabin.
Dark.
Lights off.
He didn't come.
A faint, unreadable smile touched her lips.
Of course.
She picked up her bag.
Slung it over her shoulder.
And started walking toward the exit.
Each step steady.
Measured.
Like nothing inside her was unsettled.
But just as she reached the door—
a voice stopped her.
"Leena."
She turned.
A senior employee stood there.
Formal.
Uncomfortable.
Something in his hand.
An envelope.
Leena's eyes dropped to it.
Then back to him.
"Yes?"
A pause.
Then—
"You're fired."
Silence.
For a second—
the words didn't land.
Then they did.
Sharp.
Clean.
Leena blinked once.
"Why?"
Her voice wasn't loud.
Didn't shake.
The man adjusted his posture slightly.
"Your behavior… hasn't been professional."
A lie.
A convenient one.
Leena held his gaze.
And then—
something shifted in her expression.
Not anger.
Not shock.
Recognition.
She already knew.
Of course she did.
The man extended the envelope.
"This is your salary… and additional compensation. As per early termination terms."
Leena took it.
Looked at it for a moment.
Then smiled.
Not bitter.
Not hurt.
Almost amused.
"This is the best job I ever had."
The man frowned slightly—
confused.
Leena tilted her head just a little.
"I know who fired me."
Her voice calm.
Certain.
"So tell me—where is Sami?"
The man hesitated.
Then replied,
"Sami sir didn't come today."
Of course.
Leena nodded once.
Then—
without another word—
she turned.
Not toward the exit.
But toward his cabin.
The man stepped forward quickly.
"Leena—you can't go in there—"
She didn't stop.
Didn't even look at him.
Her steps didn't break.
She pushed the door open.
The cabin was silent.
Cold.
Too clean.
Too empty.
Leena walked in slowly.
Her eyes moved across the space.
The desk.
The chair.
The glass wall overlooking the city.
Everything—
exactly in place.
Except him.
She stepped closer to the table.
Placed the envelope down.
Opened it.
Pulled out the cash.
Counted her monthly salary.
Kept it.
The rest—
she placed back inside.
Neatly.
Deliberately.
Then—
she reached for a notepad.
Picked up a pen.
And wrote.
Not rushed.
Not emotional.
Every word controlled.
She folded the note.
Placed it inside the envelope.
Then slid it slightly forward—
to the center of the desk.
Like she wanted it to be seen.
Not ignored.
For a moment—
she just stood there.
Looking at the empty chair.
Something unreadable passing through her eyes.
Then—
she turned.
Walked out.
The man outside stepped aside immediately.
This time—
she didn't stop.
Didn't look back.
And just like that—
she left the office.
Like she was never meant to stay.
The office doors shut behind her—
hard.
Too hard.
The sound echoed through the hallway.
But Leena didn't stop.
She walked fast.
Almost storming out.
Her face—
tight.
Jaw clenched.
Eyes sharp.
Not hurt.
Angry.
Behind her—
the senior employee stood frozen for a second.
Then quickly pulled out his phone.
Called.
"Sami sir…"
The call rang.
Once.
Twice.
No answer.
Again.
Still nothing.
He lowered the phone.
Uneasy.
Leena didn't look back.
By the time she reached her apartment—
her steps had turned heavier.
Faster.
The anger hadn't cooled.
It had built.
She unlocked the door—
and slammed it shut behind her.
The sound cracked through the empty apartment.
And then—
she broke.
"Fuck!"
Her voice echoed—
loud.
Sharp.
Uncontrolled.
She threw her bag across the room.
It hit the floor—
hard—
spilling slightly open.
Her chest rose and fell quickly.
Her hands ran through her hair—
pulling it back—
frustrated.
"This is not how it was supposed to go…"
Her voice dropped—
but the anger didn't.
She paced once.
Twice.
Then stopped.
Turned.
And walked straight into the bathroom.
The light flicked on.
She stood in front of the mirror.
Staring at herself.
Her hair slightly messy.
Her face tired.
Eyes still burning.
For a second—
she didn't move.
Then—
quietly—
almost to herself—
"This is not part of the plan."
The words felt heavier now.
She turned on the tap.
Cold water running.
Splashed her face.
Once.
Twice.
Water dripped down her skin—
mixing with the tension she couldn't shake.
She gripped the edge of the sink.
Head lowered.
Thinking.
Fast.
Calculating.
Her mind wasn't breaking.
It was working.
Always working.
After a moment—
she slid down.
Sat on the cold bathroom floor.
Back against the wall.
Eyes unfocused—
but not empty.
Pieces were moving in her head.
Rearranging.
Adjusting.
Fixing what had gone wrong.
Then—
suddenly—
her eyes sharpened.
She got up.
Fast.
Walked back into the room.
Grabbed her bag.
Turned it upside down.
Everything fell to the floor.
Wallet.
Phone.
Keys.
Small items scattering.
Papers slid out—
some folded—
some loose.
She dropped to the floor.
Started going through them.
Quickly.
One after another.
Then—
she found it.
A specific paper.
Her hand paused.
She sat there—
on the floor—
papers spread around her—
holding it.
Silent.
Thinking.
And slowly—
a faint smile appeared.
Not soft.
Strategic.
Next Morning
Sami walked into the office like nothing had changed.
Calm.
Composed.
But quieter than usual.
He moved straight toward his cabin.
The senior employee rushed to him.
"Sir…"
Sami stopped.
Looked at him.
"The girl… she didn't take the money."
A pause.
"She left it on your table."
Sami didn't react immediately.
Just nodded once.
"Okay."
And walked in.
His cabin—
just as he left it.
Except—
for the envelope.
Placed right at the center.
He walked toward it.
Picked it up.
Opened it.
The money was inside.
And a note.
Folded neatly.
Sami opened it.
Read it.
A second passed.
Then—
he chuckled.
Low.
Under his breath.
Not amused.
Interested.
Because written in sharp, clear handwriting—
were just a few words:
"Shove this money up your ass."
Sami looked at the note again.
Then folded it back.
Picked up the envelope—
and slid it into his coat pocket.
Not leaving it behind.
Not throwing it away.
Keeping it.
Like it meant something more than just money.
And for the first time—
a faint smile touched his face.
Because now—
this wasn't over.
Not even close.