The Glimpse of Normal

The sunlight slanted through the hospital blinds in sharp, unforgiving stripes, casting long bars of gold across the pale-blue sheets. The sterile scent of antiseptic clung to the air, mingling with the faint aroma of burnt toast drifting in from the hallway.

Breakfast being served to someone who hadn't just fainted. The world outside the window moved on...cars honking, a nurse laughing softly down the corridor, as if everything was normal. But normal wasn't something Elena Marlowe could touch anymore. Not after waking up to the prick of an IV in her arm, the dry ache in her throat, and a doctor gently saying, "You just fainted. The baby is fine."

Elena pressed a hand gently to her lower belly, a silent, protective gesture she barely noticed anymore. As the elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, a gust of recycled, too-cold air brushed past her. She stepped out, heels clicking against the polished office tiles where the step sounded louder than the last, like a slow drumbeat in an empty hall.

Fluorescent lights buzzed faintly overhead, washing everything in that familiar, sterile glow. Around her, voices murmured behind the glass doors, phones rang, keyboards clacked but it all felt slightly muffled, like she was walking through water.

Her fingers tightened around the worn leather strap of her bag, which is knuckles white. It wasn't just a bag for her anymore, it was her anchor, something to hold onto while the world pretended to stay the same, even when nothing inside her was.

The hallway hadn't changed for her. But somehow, she had.

"Miss Marlowe, welcome back," came a smooth voice, pulling her out of herself.

It was Amelia from admin, standing near the reception desk with a file clutched to her chest, herbacal bright smile dimmed by something unsure. Nervous, maybe. Or worse, which seems like pity.

Elena straightened, drawing in a steadying breath. She returned the smile with practiced ease and whispered, "Thank you," even though part of her wanted to say, "You don't know the half of it.”

But the looks followed her. Not cruel, just curious, also it showed their concern for her.

It felt like the walls were murmuring soft, sharp whispers curling in from every direction, each one laced with curiosity, with judgment. It seems like everyone had already heard. Like collapsing in the hallway had made her fragile, different. Like she'd broken some unspoken rule of corporate polish.

She hated it... The whispers. The way they shrank when she passed, like secrets slipping just out of earshot but never out of reach.

Her desk looked the same... Clean and impersonal. As though she hadn't nearly blacked out two days ago with her hand clutching the very life growing inside her. A thin yellow post-it note sat on her monitor.

"Mr. Wolfe wants to see you. — HR."

The words blinked on her screen like a warning light. Her throat tightened, dry and aching, like her body knew something before her mind could catch up.

She swallowed hard. Straightened her spine.

And reminded herself—you've already survived harder things than a closed-door conversation.

But even so, her hand trembled slightly as it reached for her bag.

Then Elena began to walk—slowly and deliberately toward Mr. Wolfe's chamber.

Each step echoed louder than the last, as if the building itself wanted to listen in. Her heels clicked against the tiles like a countdown, drawing her closer to a door she wasn't sure she was ready to open.

Breathe. Just breathe.

Then, she'd walked these halls with purpose. Her head high and spine straight. Now… she carried something inside her that made her quieter and heavier, just a little less certain....

She passed familiar faces—some that turned away too quickly, others that watched her just a second too long. Every glance felt like a fingerprint, pressing against her skin.

When she finally reached the dark wooden door, she paused. Her reflection stared back from the polished surface—composed, but not calm. Collected, but cracking just beneath.

She raised her hand, hesitating just inches from the door. Her knuckles hovered mid-air, breath caught in her throat.

"Should I knock… or walk away?"

As if turning back could erase everything that had already unraveled but it couldn't. Not the whispers or not the truth growing quietly inside her.

And then... With a quiet exhale, she knocked.

The sound of her knuckles faded into silence. For a moment, there was nothing. No footsteps or no movement... Just her heartbeat thudding in her ears.

Then came his voice— which is deep and controlled, but quieter than she remembered.

"Come in."

Two simple words but they carried weight. Like he already knew who was standing on the other side. Like he'd been expecting her.

Elena's fingers curled tighter around the door handle and then... slowly, she stepped inside.

Cassian Wolfe didn't look up immediately. He stood by the window, one hand in his pocket, the other loosely holding his phone, his back was rigid.

"Miss Marlowe," he said, finally turning. "Sit." His tone was flat or neutral. A little too controlled.

She sat, her heart beating harder than necessary.

He placed the phone down on the desk with deliberate calm, then walked around and lowered himself into the chair across from her. His eyes met hers.

"I'm glad you're okay," he said first, unexpectedly.

A beat pause...

"Thank you," she replied, voice even.

Silence thickened between them before Cassian spoke again.

"Well... Miss Marlowe! Tell me one thing, Why didn't you inform HR about your condition."

Her fingers curled tightly around the strap of her bag, knuckles pale... her voice steady but laced with quiet defiance, she said—

"I didn't think I had to."

"What did you just say...? You didn't think pregnancy was relevant to disclose in a full-time, high-stress corporate environment?" he asked, his tone still flat but sharp-edged now.

Elena inhaled... "It's personal."

Cassian leaned back slightly. "This isn't about your personal choices, Miss Marlowe. It's about company policy. HR should've been informed. I think you know the rules! Medical emergencies on company grounds carry liability risks. If something had happened—"

"But nothing did," she cut in gently, her voice steadier than she felt. "And I'm still capable of doing my job."

"That's not the point, Miss Marlowe".

"Then what is?" she asked softly.

Cassian looked at her then. His jaw tightened, where something flickered in his expression—frustration, or something which is less nameable.

"You could've been seriously hurt," he said. "You—" Suddenly, he stopped, and then he corrected himself.

"Employees are required to disclose medical conditions that may affect their work. This isn't negotiable."

"I didn't want anyone treating me like I couldn't handle my work," Elena said after a pause. "I didn't want whispers or special treatment or looks. I didn't want this"—her hand gestured vaguely around—"to define me."

Cassian exhaled slowly. The room suddenly felt smaller... "Look...I'm not asking you to explain your choices to me,"he said after a pause. "But I expect transparency when it comes to operations inside my company."

There it was again, that my company line. She wanted to laugh or scream, because she wanted to remind him that she was a person, not a liability.

Instead, she nodded once. "Understood."

His gaze lingered which was sharp and unreadable. Just for a second, she thought he might say something else....But instead, his expression shuttered.

"You're dismissed," he said, clipped and cold, like she was just another task to cross off his list.