Chapter 4

When I returned to his office, I immediately felt a new weight in my chest. I had been cold, tired, and emotionally drained for hours, but here I was again, carrying my laptop, holding the updated report and the other files he wanted fixed, forcing myself to be brave.

I entered hesitantly, my heart beating faster and faster, again.

He was sitting in his swivel chair, one hand resting on the desk, holding his phone but not looking at it. He was staring at me. Sharp. Serious. It was as if he were studying every inch of me from head to toe. I also noticed a slight arch in his eyebrow.

“You didn't answer me when you left, Irene. Who did this to you?” he asked immediately in a heavy voice. "I don't tolerate bullying. Speak up."

“I— I just tripped, Sir,” I replied, barely above a whisper. Even I couldn't find it in myself to be bold. "I fell."

“Tripped?” He stood up from his seat and approached the edge of the desk. “You’re soaking wet because you tripped? Where? In a swimming pool? As far as I can remember, the pool is on the rooftop. What kind of excuse is that?”

I swallowed hard. I couldn't look him in the eye. I didn't know if I could manage to keep lying, either.

“Answer me properly, Irene.”

I took a deep breath. My shoulders trembled slightly. I didn't know if it was from the cold or the fear.

“I was in the restroom, Sir,” I said slowly. “Some of the girls... they poured water on me.”

The whole room went silent. As in literal silence, the kind that’s deafening even without any noise.

When I looked up, I saw the expression on his face. He wasn't angry. He just... looked puzzled. Not surprised, but more like... he didn’t know how to process it.

“They ganged up on you?” he asked, voice low.

“I guess I deserved it,” I whispered.

“Excuse me?” His voice thundered. He stood up straight, shoulders squared. “You think being harassed in the restroom is something you deserve?”

“Maybe if I weren’t always messing up... they wouldn’t hate me so much.”

“Irene," he called out in a restrained tone, cold and heavy. “Stop saying that. Don’t even try to justify that kind of behavior.”

I went silent. I wanted to explain, but even I knew I couldn't give a sensible reason. I just... felt small. I didn't even see who did it to report them to him.

He let out a violent sigh, walked back behind his chair, and picked up his black blazer. When he returned, he laid it on top of the desk.

“Wear this,” he said flatly. “You’re shivering.”

“I’m fine—”

“Wear. It.”

I didn't argue anymore. I reached for it slowly and then put it on, still looking down. I felt the warmth. It smelled good, too. Comforting. It was my first time wearing an expensive blazer, and a man's at that. And for some reason, it made me feel... protected.

He returned to his seat. Arms crossed. Eyes on me.

“Look,” he started, “you’ve been messing up a lot lately. That’s a fact.”

I bit my lip. Here we go again, I thought.

“But that doesn’t give anyone the right to humiliate you,” he continued.

I looked up. That... wasn’t what I expected. I didn't know if he was aware that he did the same thing to me, but no, it was like a different person was facing me now.

“I can’t have someone on my team who can’t stand up for herself, Irene. You think being quiet and keeping it all in makes you strong? It doesn’t. It just makes you a target.”

I still remained silent. What he was saying now was shocking.

“You think staying silent will make people stop? No. It just tells them they can do worse next time. It will get even worse.”

“Then what am I supposed to do?” I asked, more quietly than I intended. “Confront them? Call them out? I don’t even have proof.”

“Who cares about proof?” He sighed. “You want to survive here? Learn to speak up. Make noise. Defend yourself if you think you’re right.”

“You think I’m not trying?” My voice grew a bit louder. “Every single day I wake up asking myself if I still belong here.”

He blinked. He probably didn't expect me to answer like that.

“I work hard, Sir,” I continued, my voice now trembling. “I stay late. I redo my work no matter how many times you scold me. And still... I feel like I’m disposable.”

I saw how he froze.

“I never said you were disposable,” he finally said, his voice softer.

“But that’s how you make me feel,” I said, being honest.

Silence followed again, as if he hadn't expected this conversation.

He stood up again, this time, his aura wasn't intimidating. He took a glass from the table and poured water from a pitcher.

“Drink,” he said.

I accepted it. I drank even though my hand was shaking. It was only a few seconds, but I felt like time slowed down.

He was just... looking at me. Not like a boss, not like a superior, but like someone actually trying to see what’s beneath the broken employee.

“You want to stay in this company?” he asked suddenly.

“Yes,” I whispered.

“Then I need you to show me why. I want you to stay here, Irene.”

I swallowed hard. Why did it feel like he was pleading with me?

He sat back down and leaned forward, elbows on his desk. “Finish your report. Then come back here. We’ll talk about what to do next.”

“Okay...” I nodded slowly.

As I stood up, he added, “And Irene?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t ever say you deserve to be treated like trash again. I don’t tolerate incompetence... but I hate injustice more.”

I didn’t know what to say. But for the first time that night, I felt warm. Not because of the blazer. Not even because of the words. But because someone saw me. Not as a problem to fix, or a joke to laugh at, just... me.

I stepped out of his office, feeling the warmth of the blazer. It felt like an unexpected hug. I didn't know what I was feeling. It was like he had opened something in me that I had kept closed for a long time.

And as I walked back to my desk, carrying my laptop, I couldn't help but ask myself—

Why does the man I hated the most... suddenly feel like the only one on my side?