Red Light Rejection

Everything turned silent.

Not the kind of silence that soothes, but the kind that screams like the dead air left behind after a bomb goes off.

These past few days, we’ve been nothing but strangers.

I typed at my desk like always, answered calls, sorted documents, scheduled his meetings with the kind of efficiency that could rival any automated system. But him...

Nicholas didn’t see me.

Not really.

He gave orders in short, clipped sentences, no tone, no inflection, like I was just background noise in his workflow, something not worth acknowledging. No smiles. No stolen glances during briefings. Not even a simple “How was your day?” like the ones that used to slip through between chaotic meetings and bitter coffee.

I used to know his mood just by the way he said my name. Now, I’m not even sure my voice registers in his mind.

I pretended not to care. Wore a neutral expression like all good secretaries do, the kind who learn to hide bruises under tailored blazers. But my body...

My body remembered too much.

Why did he let me sleep in his bed, hold me like I was something precious, whisper against my neck, then pull away like I was a mistake he needed to delete?

Friday came like it always did. And even though I knew, God, I knew, some part of me still hoped. Because sometimes, routine is easier to trust than reality.

So tonight, I stood in front of his apartment door. My hand reached for the keypad like muscle memory. My fingers knew the code better than my own ATM pin.

2-1-9-4.

His mother’s birthday.

I pressed it.  One second. Two.

Red tone. Denied.

My heart stalled for a fraction of a second. I tried again.

2-1-9-4.

Another red tone. Louder this time.

Like it was mocking me.

I drew in a quiet breath, swallowing the shame tightening in my throat. He changed his door code.

I didn’t stand there long. Just... long enough to try to breathe. Long enough to stop the tears clinging to my lashes.

The night sky outside his apartment reflected my face in the glass, and for the first time, I saw someone I didn’t recognize.

I didn’t knock. I didn’t test whatever bravery I had left.

I just stood there. Maybe two seconds. Maybe twenty minutes.

Then turned away.

The world around me kept spinning like nothing had changed. Apartment lights still flickered on. Cars hummed in the distance. Laughter drifted from a neighbor’s balcony.

And I walked back toward the elevator like a ghost. No sound. No one would ever know I was there.

And now... for the first time since this all began, I finally felt the weight of losing something I never really had.

::

The next morning started like any other.

I showed up on time, dressed like always. A sharp black pencil skirt, a soft gray satin blouse, not too tight, just fitted enough to trace the curves he used to steal touches of in the office elevator.

Hair pulled back. Light makeup. Neutral smile. Steady heels. As if the world hadn’t tried to peel me open.

My desk was still outside his office. My computer still lit up. My pens still lined up perfectly in their clear acrylic holder. But the air around me had changed.

Colder. Sharper. Watching.

The way people looked at me wasn’t the same anymore. I wasn’t just Nicholas De Castello’s efficient assistant. Now I was gossip on legs.

The whispers started behind coffee cups and laptop screens. Not loud, but loud enough. Intentional. Like stones disguised as wind.

“I heard she leaves his office late every Friday night.”

“Oh, the one who ‘delivers documents’ until ten?”

“Please. No file needs reviewing that long.”

“I thought she was his secretary. Turns out... more of a personal masseuse?”

Laughter. Small, but poisonous. Half-swallowed, half-savored.

I didn’t respond. Didn’t turn. Didn’t give them the satisfaction. But one sentence hit harder than the rest. From a female staffer I used to talk schedules with.

As I passed the break room, I heard her whisper to her friend: “No wonder she’s lasted that long. She doesn’t type with ten fingers, she uses her back.”

Their laughter burst lightly, like it was just a joke. But there was nothing funny about that sentence.

Not to me. Not to the child growing inside me. And definitely not to all those nights I spent alone, waiting for a door I could no longer open.

I kept walking. Because if I stopped, I’d break. And breaking in the middle of this building would be a loss far too cheap for them to enjoy.

By noon, the office was tenser than usual. There was a big presentation with Asian clients, and the director’s floor felt like a beehive before a storm.

I stood outside the meeting room, holding the documents that needed to be signed after the briefing. My posture was steady, eyes straight ahead, but my heartbeat had its own idea.

The door opened.

Nicholas stepped out first. His Armani suit still pristine, but his face… Cold. Tense. Jaw tight. Brows furrowed. His strides sharp and fast.

I dipped my head slightly. “These are the contract documents for—”

Then he showed up.

Lorenzo De Castello.

The younger version of Nicholas. More flamboyant. More reckless. More… shameless. His black suit was unbuttoned, shirt unfastened one notch lower than necessary. He was holding a few papers. I could tell they were freshly signed business contracts.

His eyes caught mine.

And his expression shifted. That smug grin followed, the kind that told me he’d already heard everything worth hearing.

He stopped. Right in front of me.

“Well, well,” his voice dripped like sour syrup. “So this is the secretary everyone’s been whispering about.” His gaze swept over me. A predator’s stare. “Gotta admit… they weren’t lying. You are… smoking hot.”

My heart froze for a second. But I didn’t flinch.

“If I’d known Nicholas was into mixing business with pleasure,” he added, “I would’ve signed up to be the boss first.”

My stomach twisted.

A short chuckle escaped Lorenzo’s lips.

But what hurt more than his words… was the silence standing beside him.

Nicholas.

He stood there. Right next to Lorenzo. He heard it.

He heard me being mocked. Demeaned.

And he just... clenched his jaw. Flipped open the file in his hand. No glance in my direction. No words. Not even a, “Watch your mouth, Lorenzo.”

He didn’t pull his brother back. He didn’t stop him. He didn’t say a damn thing.

Just silence.

And his silence was louder than any insult.

I looked at him. Waiting for something. Anything. But all I saw was a man who exhaled slowly and walked away.

Leaving me standing there, holding papers and the last piece of my pride.

::::

I couldn’t sleep. I lay on my side, my hand resting over a stomach that hadn’t begun to show, but already felt different.

There was something there. Someone.

Waiting.

And for the first time, I felt... guilty. Guilty for bringing my child into the world from a man like Nicholas. A man who could stop time with a smile and destroy you with his silence.

I tried to replay every conversation we’d had. Every touch. Every whispered breath in the middle of the night.

“You’re the only thing that keeps me calm in all this chaos.”

“Don’t go, Maya.”

“You know I can’t help myself when I touch you.”

Were those just words from a broken man looking for a distraction? Was I just... temporary relief?

I thought I knew him. I thought I understood men like him. But Nicholas was a puzzle that not even time could solve, let alone a foolish heart like mine.

Was it the business pressure? His father? Lorenzo? Or was it me... expecting too much from a man who never promised anything out loud?

I didn’t know.

And not knowing was driving me insane.

My head was spinning. Full of assumptions, endless questions, and wounds that refused to heal.

The tears came quietly.

I’d never felt this weak, and I knew I couldn’t afford to wait around anymore. Not with a new life growing inside me, a child who didn’t know me yet, didn’t know the world, but already needed me. Needed my love.

My decisions.

My protection.

Maybe Nicholas didn’t want them. But I... I wanted this child. I wanted them to grow up in a world not shadowed by uncertainty. I couldn’t wait for him to open the door or fight for something he couldn’t even say out loud.

Which meant... I had to leave.

I wiped my tears roughly, took a deep breath, and sat upright. The sheets were a mess. My pajamas soaked in sweat and tears.

I forced myself to stand and walk over to my desk. My laptop screen blinked to life, casting a cold blue light across the room.

My fingers, still trembling, hovered over the keyboard.

'To Mr. Nicholas De Castello,

I hereby submit my resignation from the position of Executive Secretary, effective three days from today.

Thank you for the opportunity and trust you have given me.

I wish the company and you, the very best.

Sincerely,

Maya Moguel'

I stared at the words for a long time. Each letter felt like a shard of glass I’d just swallowed.

The tears came again.