The break room was a small, cozy space with a few tables and chairs, a kitchenette, and a vending machine that dispensed lukewarm coffee. I found a quiet corner away from the usual office chatter, settled into a chair, and opened my phone with trembling fingers. The message notification from Robert stared back at me, and I eagerly tapped on it.
The message was filled with stickers of "Call me" plastered all over. I couldn't help but giggle; it was so typical of Robert to use stickers to make his messages more urgent and playful. He knew it would make me call him immediately. Each sticker was a different bright color, some with exaggerated hand gestures pointing to the phone icon, others with animated characters jumping up and down. It was a lighthearted touch that momentarily lifted the weight of the morning off my shoulders. As I dialed his number, my mind raced with questions. Was he back in town? Ever since college, Robert had successfully built his own company, so he was rarely around. He traveled a lot for business, jet-setting from one country to another, attending high-profile meetings, and managing his international team. Our communication had mostly been through social media, which he was barely active on, or brief phone calls. Despite his busy schedule, he always made time for me whenever he could. The last time I had seen him was about two years ago, although we kept in touch occasionally. There were two rings before Robert picked up, his voice filled the other side of the line. I tried to picture him in my head, but every picture my brain came with did not just fit. "Hey, Robert," I greeted, trying to keep my voice light. "Hey, Sophia," Robert's voice came through, sounding as confident as ever. "Just wanted to let you know, I'll be back in town in two days." "Really? That's awesome," I replied, genuinely surprised and happy for him. "How long are you staying this time?" "Actually, longer than I have stayed in the past" Robert answered casually. "I've cleared my schedule a bit, and I have got work to do when I come back." "That’s great to hear," I said, genuinely pleased. "Can’t wait to catch up." "And hey," Robert continued, his tone shifting slightly. "I saw your posts about that boat cruise. Managed to snag us two tickets." I blinked in surprise. "You got tickets for the cruise? That’s unexpected."How did you even know I wanted to go?" "I may be busy, but I still keep an eye on your social media. I'm human too, you know," he said with a chuckle. I was surprised that he discreetly viewed my stories and statuses. "I can't believe you noticed." "Of course I did. I wanted to make it up to you for all those neglected years. Plus, I bought a ticket for myself because of the ladies," he said, his voice dripping with playful sarcasm. I laughed. "You're still the same, I see." "Kidding! Honestly, I thought it would be a great opportunity to connect with other rich men and women attending the cruise. You know, network a bit," he explained. I smiled, remembering his knack for details even from our school days. "I guess you haven't changed that much.""Maybe not," Robert replied lightly. I felt a warm glow of gratitude. "Thanks, Robert. That means a lot." "No problem," he said warmly. "Looking forward to catching up? I was simply thrilled. " Of course Robert, this is incredible! But..." "But what?" he prompted. "There's a problem," I admitted, feeling a knot of worry tighten in my stomach. As much as I was looking forward to catching up, there was a looming issue I couldn’t ignore. The problem was my job. I was due for a leave that month, a well-deserved week off after months of grueling work. But the boat cruise Robert had planned for us fell right in the middle of that week, and my boss was notorious for being inflexible with leave schedules. I could already hear her voice in my head, insisting that I postpone my leave or, worse, cancel it altogether. Extended periods off were practically a foreign concept in my office. There’s a bit of a snag,” I began, feeling the weight of the situation settle on my shoulders. “I should be due for leave that week, but my boss might not allow me to take it. He’s pretty strict about leave schedules, especially during busy periods.” Robert was silent for a moment, and I could almost hear him thinking. “Have you applied for the leave yet?” he asked finally. “Not yet,” I admitted. “I was planning to, but with this cruise coming up, I’m not sure how it’ll play out.” “Well,” Robert said thoughtfully, “you should apply first and see what happens. If it doesn’t work out, we can try to pull a few strings.” “Pull a few strings?” I echoed, intrigued. “Yeah,” Robert replied. “I know some people who might be able to help. Worst case, we’ll figure something out. But don’t worry about it too much right now. Just apply and let’s see how it goes.” I sighed, feeling a bit reassured by his confidence. “Alright, I’ll apply first thing tomorrow.” “Thanks, Robert,” I said, feeling a bit lighter. “I really appreciate it.” “No problem,” he replied. “We’ve got this.” I ended the call as I proceeded to get lunch. Absently picking at my salad as my mind wandered. The office buzzed with the usual hum of phones ringing and keyboards clacking, but I was barely aware of it. My thoughts were miles away, drifting towards the boat cruise Robert had mentioned. I imagined myself standing on the deck of a luxurious yacht, the sea breeze tousling my hair. The sun was setting, casting a golden hue over the water, making it sparkle like a sea of diamonds. I could almost feel the gentle sway of the boat beneath my feet and hear the distant call of seagulls. "Mrs. Hayes!!!" I heard Ms. Marlene call my name in what I'd call a screech.TAYLOR'S POV I was at my desk, taking my much needed break, the soft murmur of my colleagues and the distant hum of office machines, created a soothing background noise. Then the sound of a screeching voice calling my name. I jolted upright, nearly spilling my coffee. My heart skipped a beat, and I quickly turned towards the direction of the voice. There, a few feet away, was Mrs. Thatcher, storming towards me. Her face was twisted in anger, her usually composed expression replaced with one of intense fury. Her glasses sat precariously on the bridge of her nose, a sure sign of her agitation. My mind raced as I tried to recall if I had missed something important or made a serious mistake. But nothing came to mind. I felt a cold sweat forming at the back of my neck as Mrs. Thatcher’s heels clicked sharply against the polished office floor, each step echoing ominously in the suddenly quiet room. Seeing Mrs. Thatcher in such a state was unsettling. She was known for her meticul
As the office began to empty out, I remained at my desk, gathering my things slowly, my mind still reeling from the day’s events. I shut down my computer, the screen flickering off and leaving me with my own reflection. I looked tired, my eyes heavy with fatigue and a trace of the earlier embarrassment. I packed my bag methodically, slipping my notebook and pen into the side pocket, and placing a newly purchased magazine on top.The overhead lights cast a sterile glow over the room, making everything feel a bit more surreal. I glanced around, noticing the empty desks and the few remaining colleagues who were finishing up their tasks. The murmur of distant conversations and the occasional sound of a printer or keyboard clicking were the only noises breaking the silence.I stood up, adjusting my bag on my shoulder and smoothing down my skirt. Just as I was about to leave, I saw a colleague walking towards me. It was Janet, one of the senior analysts. She had a sympathetic look on her fa
I sat at my cluttered work desk, the bright glare of my computer screen adding to the tension that was causing my eye to twitch. As a marketing executive, my days were packed with back-to-back meetings, campaign planning, and endless emails. Today was no different, and I silently begged the clock to move faster. I couldn't wait for the lunch break to finally check the message from my high school friend, Robert.My office space was a mixture of organized chaos: colorful post-it notes stuck to the edges of my monitor, a half-empty coffee cup, and stacks of marketing reports awaiting my attention. My boss, Ms. Marlene Thatcher, had been particularly irritable lately, scrutinizing every minor detail with an unforgiving eye. Ms. Thatcher was an older woman with sharp features and a stern expression that seemed permanently etched into her face. Her salt-and-pepper hair was always pulled back into a severe bun, and her eyes, a cold steel gray, missed nothing. She had a reputation for being s