Chapter Eleven: Aftershocks
The morning after the dispute, the training hall felt heavier than usual. Laptops opened, notes scattered, but conversations were hushed, as if everyone was waiting for the tension to settle—or explode again. I tried to keep my mind on the project, meticulously reviewing every figure, every formula, every calculation.
But the energy around me refused to be ignored.
Lucas entered first, his usual confidence tempered by quiet frustration. Victor followed shortly after, calm and collected, his presence almost magnetic in its ease. Their eyes met briefly across the room, sharp and deliberate. A ripple of tension ran through the group before the supervisor even began speaking.
The dispute from yesterday had left its mark.
"Let's review yesterday's adjustments," the supervisor said. "Errors were noted in both execution and analysis phases. We need a clear path forward."
Lucas immediately leaned over his notes. "I already double-checked my framework," he said, tone clipped. "The discrepancy was corrected last night."
Victor's voice cut through smoothly. "Correction helps, but the interpretation of data still varies depending on who applies it."
I noticed several group members glance at me. I had done nothing except follow the numbers, yet somehow, I felt the weight of attention. I stayed focused on my laptop, unwilling to look up, unwilling to get distracted by subtle glances, quiet smirks, or side whispers.
"Rose," Victor continued, his tone deceptively neutral, "you've reviewed the corrected outputs. Do you agree with Lucas's adjustments?"
I looked up briefly. "Yes. If the filtering is applied consistently, the results match the model."
"Good," Lucas said quickly, but his voice carried a tension I couldn't quite read.
Victor nodded, but his eyes didn't leave Lucas. There was something in the way he measured him, a subtle challenge that no one else seemed to notice. I couldn't name it. All I knew was the project had suddenly become a battleground, even though all I cared about was the score.
As the session went on, small clashes emerged. Words were chosen carefully, comments measured, yet every sentence seemed layered. Lucas would make a suggestion; Victor would counter politely but firmly. The rest of the group sat on the edge of discomfort, caught between two forces they didn't fully understand.
I stayed focused. Every adjustment, every calculation, every note I made was precise. I did not argue. I did not pick sides. I only did what needed to be done.
But that didn't stop the aftershocks.
When the group dispersed, murmurs followed them down the hallway. Lucas brushed past me, not saying much, yet I caught the way his jaw tightened as he glanced toward Victor. Victor, for his part, lingered just long enough to offer me a faint, polite nod before exiting.
It was harmless, I told myself. Professional, even.
Yet, I felt something strange in my chest. Not jealousy. Not fear. Just… unease.
Bella arrived at the training hall later that day, walking in with her usual confidence, greeting everyone warmly. I noticed the subtle change in the air as Lucas glanced at her, a spark of recognition in his eyes that I didn't fully understand.
I reminded myself again: this was only the project.
Nothing else mattered.
And yet, as I packed my things that evening, I realized the disputes weren't just academic. They were signals—quiet, subtle, human. I could feel Victor positioning, Lucas reacting, and the rest of us caught in between, powerless to stop the undercurrents.
I didn't care.
Not about their rivalry.
Not about their intentions.
All I cared about was finishing the project perfectly.
Still, I couldn't help but wonder—why did even perfect work suddenly feel like walking on a tightrope?