The next day, Olivia entered the company with a face drained of sleep and spirit. The fluorescent lights above felt harsher than usual, buzzing like distant whispers that wouldn't leave her alone. Her eyes were dull, carrying the weight of last night's unanswered questions — the call incident that kept replaying in her head like a broken tape.
At her workstation, the world felt blurred. The screen glowed, the cursor blinked, but her fingers froze.
She couldn't focus. Not even for a minute.
Her supervisor's voice echoed across the department.
"Olivia! The work I gave you yesterday… it's still not done?"
The sharp tone sliced through her fogged mind. Olivia jerked, mumbling an apology, but Ms. Avery's disappointment hung in the air.
By lunchtime, her friends gathered around the cafeteria table, the usual chatter bouncing off the walls. But Olivia sat silent, stirring her food without tasting it. Her mind was nowhere near them — it was stuck somewhere in the past, somewhere painful.
When her phone vibrated, she swallowed hard.
The number. Again.
She stood up so quickly her chair scraped the floor.
"Just… give me a minute," she said, and walked away.
Her friends exchanged looks and watched her leave.
Jenna leaned closer to others.
"Something's off with her."
"She's hiding something… did you see her since morning?
"She never behaves like this."
"Is she in trouble?"
"Yeah… she never acts like this."but let's not push. She'll tell us when she's ready."
When Olivia returned, her smile was forced, stretch-thin. The group suddenly went silent, pretending nothing happened. No one asked about the call — and that silence felt louder than any question.
Back at her desk, she buried herself in the pending work, forcing her shaking fingers to move. Finally, she walked into Ms. Avery's cabin and submitted it.
Ms. Avery looked at her carefully.
"You seemed… zoned out this morning. Everything okay?"
Olivia held her breath for a second.
"Just didn't sleep well," she lied, forcing a smile.
When she sat back down, she unlocked her phone.
A hidden gallery opened — blurred faces, half-smiles, moments frozen in time.
Her eyes softened. Her thumb lingered on one particular photo.
Her chest tightened.
A tear escaped before she even realized.
She rushed to the washroom.
Behind her, all this time Jenna is watching Olivia.
Jenna leaned closer to Claire
"Something's seriously wrong. She's hiding something big."
"Should we talk to her?"
"She won't open up today," Claire sighed. "We just need to give her time."
----
The hallway smelled faintly of floor polish and coffee, but for Olivia everything felt suffocating — too bright, too loud.
Inside the washroom, she splashed cold water on her face, gripping the edge of the sink until her knuckles turned white.
Outside, Jenna — who sat beside her — watched the scene quietly.
There was something unsettling in Olivia's behaviour… something secretive.
When Olivia returned, Jenna leaned closer.
"Liv… you okay?"
Olivia forced her lips into a weak smile.
"Yeah. Nothing happened."
Jenna didn't believe it, but she didn't push further.
"Alright," she said softly, "but if you ever need to talk, I'm here."
Olivia nodded.
"Thank you."
But her heart didn't feel any lighter
The reassurance didn't convince anyone.
---
Evening fell like a sigh over the city.
Their shift ended and everyone headed home. Olivia stepped out into the cool breeze, the sky painted in shades of violet and fading gold. But instead of going straight home, she slipped into a tiny bar hidden between two tall buildings.
The warm golden lights, the faint jazz humming through the speakers, the wooden scent of old counters — it felt like a place that remembered her better than she remembered herself.
The lady bartender smiled warmly.
"Rough day, sweetheart?"
Olivia exhaled.
"Something like that."
Her favourite wine arrived, smooth and familiar. She took a slow sip, letting it burn softly down her throat.
Her phone buzzed.
A message lit up the screen.
"Will you come this weekend?"
She typed back with trembling fingers:
"Yes… I'll come."
The wine fogged her mind just enough to numb the ache. She paid and stepped outside.
That's when she crashed into someone.
An old man.
His scent carried a mixture of old books and peppermint.
Olivia froze.
He stared at her as if seeing a ghost.
"Olivia?"
Her breath hitched.
He called her name again, voice shaking — something between hope and fear.
She stepped back, heart pounding.
"Sorry," she whispered, and ran.
He kept calling her name… louder, desperate.
But she was gone — swallowed by the dusk and city noise.
With a long, defeated sigh, the man entered the bar.
---
At home, Olivia fell onto her bed without turning on the lights. The room was quiet except for the distant hum of the ceiling fan. Streetlights outside cast faint golden stripes across her wall, creating shadows that looked like memories reaching toward her.
She stared at the ceiling, replaying the scene at the bar… the old man's trembling voice… the look in his eyes…
Her throat tightened.
Slowly, her eyes closed.
Tears rolled down silently, disappearing into her pillow.
The night wrapped around her like a cold blanket — and for the first time in a long time, Olivia felt truly alone.