Whispers of a forgetten love

Evelyn stepped into the office, the overhead lights too bright for her tired eyes. She had barely slept—her body still sore from the previous day's grind. The lingering taste of instant noodles clung to her mouth, and she made a mental note to grab a proper meal later.

As she walked toward her desk, she felt the usual weight of expectations pressing down on her. The office hummed with its usual morning chaos—phones ringing, keyboards clacking, hushed conversations about deadlines and client meetings.

"Evelyn."

She turned to find her supervisor, Mr. Hastings, eyeing her with a clipboard in hand. "Good morning," she greeted, trying to sound more awake than she felt.

"I need you to finalize the report on the Blackwell account by noon. And there's a last-minute meeting at ten. You'll be sitting in."

Evelyn swallowed her sigh and nodded. "Got it."

As she reached her desk, her colleague Lisa leaned over. "Rough night?"

"You have no idea," Evelyn muttered, powering on her computer.

Lisa smirked. "Well, brace yourself. The client's been extra picky. If that report isn't perfect, Hastings will breathe down your neck all day."

Evelyn clenched her jaw. Just another day in the battlefield.

She cracked her fingers and got to work.

The Incident at Work

Evelyn had just finished typing out the last section of her report when a customer approached her desk. He was a well-dressed man in his mid-thirties, flashing a confident smile. She recognized him—Mr. Langford, a frequent client.

"Miss Evelyn, right?" he said smoothly, leaning slightly over her desk.

"Yes, how may I assist you?" she asked with a polite yet professional tone.

"I was thinking," he began, adjusting his tie. "You've always been so helpful. How about I take you out for dinner tonight? A small thank-you for your excellent service."

Evelyn forced a tight-lipped smile. "I appreciate the offer, Mr. Langford, but I have to decline."

His expression stiffened. "Why not? Are you seeing someone?"

"It's just a personal choice. I prefer to keep things professional," she replied firmly, maintaining her composure.

The polite mask on his face cracked. His voice rose, catching the attention of nearby employees. "So that's it? You think you're too good for me?"

Evelyn blinked in shock as his tone turned hostile. "I never said that, Mr. Langford. I just—"

"Unbelievable!" he cut her off, his voice now loud enough to draw a small crowd. "You were so nice before, but the moment I ask you out, you're suddenly rude? Is this how you treat customers?"

A tense silence fell over the office, and before Evelyn could respond, a familiar authoritative voice sliced through the air.

"Evelyn!"

Her stomach dropped as she turned to see Mr. Damian standing there, his sharp gaze locking onto her like a predator sizing up its prey.

"Sir, I—"

"Not another word," Damian snapped. His tone was cold, uninterested in whatever she had to say. He turned to Mr. Langford with a professional smile. "I sincerely apologize for any rudeness on her part, sir. Rest assured, it won't happen again."

Evelyn's throat tightened. "But I wasn't rude, he—"

"Enough," Damian interrupted, his voice firm. "You're embarrassing yourself."

A humiliating heat crawled up her face as whispers filled the office. She felt completely exposed, her dignity stripped in front of everyone. Her vision blurred with unshed tears, but she bit the inside of her cheek, refusing to let them fall—not here.

Mr. Langford scoffed and adjusted his cuffs. "Just make sure your employees learn some manners." With that, he strode away, satisfied.

Damian didn't spare Evelyn another glance. "Get back to work," he ordered before walking off, leaving her standing there in stunned silence.

The Sack Letter

Evelyn sat stiffly in Damian's office, her hands clenched into fists on her lap. She had been called in an hour after the humiliating scene, and the moment she entered, Damian slid a white envelope across the desk.

Her fingers trembled as she picked it up and read the bold words: Termination Letter.

Her breath hitched. "Sir, please," she whispered. "I didn't do anything wrong. He was the one who raised his voice at me."

Damian leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable. "I don't care what happened, Evelyn. I don't need problems in my office, and you just caused one with a client."

Tears spilled over. "Please, I need this job. I—I can't afford to lose it."

He watched her silently, letting her desperation linger in the air. Then, after what felt like an eternity, he exhaled.

"There is one alternative," he said, tapping his fingers on the desk. "I own a hotel, and I could use more staff there. If you agree to be transferred, I'll reconsider firing you."

Evelyn's stomach twisted. She had never worked in a hotel before, and she had no idea what kind of job she would be doing there. But if the alternative was unemployment…

After a long, shaky breath, she whispered, "I'll do it."

A smirk tugged at the corner of Damian's lips. "Good choice."

Evelyn stood frozen, her breath caught in her throat. The office buzzed with low murmurs, the sting of humiliation settling deep in her chest as Damian turned his back on her. The harshness in his voice still echoed in her ears.

"You're embarrassing yourself."

She could feel her co-workers' eyes on her, some filled with curiosity, others with silent pity. Lisa shot her a concerned glance from across the room, but no one dared to speak up. They had all learned one thing working under Damian—he didn't tolerate defiance.

Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, nails digging into her palms. She wanted to defend herself, to shout that she had done nothing wrong, but she knew it wouldn't matter. Damian had already made his decision, siding with the customer without a second thought.

Her stomach churned with frustration and shame. Why? Why had he dismissed her so easily? Why hadn't he even given her the chance to explain? The unfairness of it all burned inside her, but she bit her tongue, swallowing the lump in her throat. Crying here would only make things worse.

Taking a shaky breath, she turned back to her desk, forcing herself to sit. But the moment she did, she heard the hushed whispers.

"Did you see that?"

"She must have really pissed off Mr. Langford."

"Damian didn't even let her speak. That was brutal."

Each whisper was a dagger, piercing into her already wounded pride. She stared at her computer screen, the letters blurring as tears threatened to spill. She had worked so hard in this company, given her best every single day, and yet—just like that, her reputation was crushed.

But the worst was yet to come.

Sitting in Damian's office felt suffocating. The air was thick with tension as he slid the termination letter toward her. The moment Evelyn's eyes landed on the bold words, her heart plummeted.

Termination Letter.

Her vision blurred as she gripped the paper. "Sir, please," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I didn't do anything wrong."

Damian leaned back in his chair, fingers tapping against his desk in an almost lazy rhythm. "I don't have time for this, Evelyn." His voice was cold, void of sympathy. "You created a problem in my office today, and I don't tolerate problems."

A tear slipped down her cheek, but she barely noticed. "But I wasn't rude! He—he was the one who shouted at me!"

Damian's lips curled slightly—not in amusement, but in something else. Something calculating. "And yet, the only complaint I received was about you," he said smoothly. "Do you think I should believe you over a valued client?"

Evelyn swallowed hard, her fingers tightening around the letter. This wasn't fair. None of this was fair.

"I need this job," she pleaded, her voice breaking. "Please, Mr. Damian. I—I can't afford to lose it."

For a moment, he simply watched her. The silence stretched painfully, making her feel small under his gaze. Then, he sighed, as if growing bored of the conversation.

"There is one alternative," he said finally, his voice slow and deliberate. "I own a hotel, and I could use more staff there. If you agree to be transferred, I'll reconsider firing you."

Evelyn blinked. A hotel? She hadn't expected that. Was this a demotion? A punishment?

She hesitated, searching his expression for an answer. But Damian was unreadable, his piercing gaze fixed on her as if waiting to see how desperate she really was.

"What would I be doing there?" she asked carefully.

His smirk deepened slightly. "You'll find out when you get there."

A shiver ran down her spine. Why was he being so vague?

Everything inside her screamed to say no, to walk away with whatever dignity she had left. But the crushing reality hit her just as quickly—she didn't have a choice. Rent was due. Bills were piling up. She couldn't afford to be unemployed.

After a long, shaky breath, she whispered, "I'll do it."

Damian's smirk widened, satisfied. "Good choice."