CHAPTER 17

I woke to the dull early morning gray seeping through my blinds. I remained still for a moment. Yesterday's weight still hung on me like a wet blanket. My body ached from a long night, my limbs were heavy, and my mind clouded.

It was strange to be awake. I wasn't well rested but I had survived yesterday's blog post, the backlash, the virtual stoning.I survived and I was proud of that.

There was a deafening silence in the apartment. I turned my head and listened. My mother was still sleeping in the guestroom. Her breathing, soft and steady. I slowly sat up and swung my legs over the edge of the bed, my movements slow, measured. As if if I acted in a rush, my peace would be lost.

I dragged myself to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. My face looked like it belonged to someone else—swollen eyes, raw lips, and that nervous twitch in my jaw that wouldn't go away. I washed my face, took my bath and then retrieved my makeup bag. Every brush stroke was a matter of reassembling a new me. I hadn't worn heavy make up in a while but today, I needed it.

Foundation. Concealer. Blush. Neutral lips, like a mask. I froze halfway through my mascara, wondering if I was even going. Who would blame me for staying home? Emotional trauma, public humiliation, no one would argue. No one could even argue because I am the boss.

But then a bitter heat bubbled up in my chest. If I stayed home, they'd win. The person who broke the story, the vultures that reported it, the ones that lived off watching women fail. And most importantly, my work mattered so much to me, it was the target so staying home would be a huge mistake. 

I wasn't going to let this get to me. Not totally.

I walked into the kitchen to make coffee. The machine came to life with a hiss, its steam letting the earthy aroma fill the air. The smell always grounded me. I hadn't had a chance to take a mug before a soft shuffle came up behind me. My mother was in the kitchen doorway, she still had her robe on, her ponytail-bunned hair falling down her back, her eyes fixed on me.

She didn't say anything at first. Just stared. And then she spoke, finally, a little sleep still in her voice, and said, "You're brave."

It comforted me more than I expected.

I stared at her, forced a swallow past the lump in my throat. "You want some coffee?"

She smiled faintly and nodded. I filled both of us a cup, nudging hers over the counter. We didn't talk much. Just sat at the kitchen island in a silence that was far from hollow. There was weight to it. Her presence. Her belief in me. Even if I didn't yet completely believe in myself.

As I left the apartment an hour later, dressed in a form fitting navy suit and low heels, my defenses appeared flimsy as paper. But they were defenses nonetheless.

At the office, everything was too normal."Good morning, ma'am," the receptionist said. Her smile was courteous and sharp.

But did I detect a flash of something in her eyes? I walked down the halls, conscious of every glance, every too rapid nod. My mind was a merry go round of distrust.

Who saw it? Who read it when it was up? Who gave it any attention? Who believed it?

I went inside my office and locked the door behind me, leaning on it for a second. Then someone knocked.

"Come in." I said moving out of the way.

Sasha, my secretary, popped in. "Morning, ma'am. I brought you the revised meeting agenda. Also, someone from Legal left you this." She dropped an envelope and the printed agenda on my desk.

I accepted them both, observing her. She was calm as usual, but her eyes stayed on mine for a fraction of a second too long.

And she leaned in to whisper, softly, "If you need something, I'm here. Don't let them. People judge quickly but they forget just as quickly."

I winced, then nodded. "Thanks, Sasha."

The time clocked nine, and I walked into the conference room. The meeting began. They discussed numbers, targets and trends in the market.

I was unusually quiet 

Halfway through one of the men's arguments concerning rebranding, Marco from sales looked over at me. "You okay, boss? You haven't said anything yet."

I attempted to force on a strained grin. "Just listening today. Please, go on."

And they did. But I felt the room shift.

The session went on till ten-thirty. I waited around for my notes afterwards when the phone went off in my pocket. I glanced down at the screen. Marcus. One of our key shareholders.

"Marcus," I said, voice even.

"Good morning. Got a minute?"

"Of course."

There was on his end. Then, "I did see the post bit your Legal team reached out to me and explained the whole situation. I wanted to reassure you that I do trust you."

Relief crept in.

“But”

Oh no, there was a but. I grew tense all over. 

"We're not going to let lies define our people. But you'll need to be mindful of the people you have conflicts with. We don't tolerate scandals, even if they're untrue."

I took a deep breath. "I see. Thank you for the vote of confidence. I am handling the situation and it won't happen again."

"It shouldn't. Keep your head up. You're good at what you do. Don't let noise get into your head."

After he hung up, I sat for a moment, phone still in my hand. For the first time in all of this, I had something that felt like support from the system. Not from a person who cared about me, but from the structure that I worked so hard to uphold.

I left the office that day not with a smile, but with my chin a little higher.

In the parking lot, I sat in my car and texted my lawyer:

Thanks again. Seriously… I appreciate your dedication and support.

His reply was quick:

The warning letter is working. Smaller blogs are removing the post now. Quietly, but effectively.

I stared at the message and a deep breath escaped me. I let it come all the way this time not fully realising how long I'd been holding it in.

I got home in a daze, but the atmosphere was lighter than yesterday's.

Cam was at school and mum had gone to get groceries. Taking advantage of the quiet, I opened my diary, the one where I only wrote with pen and paper when I couldn't utter the words aloud.

I wrote:

I almost lost myself yesterday.I almost let a lie become my truth. I almost gave in to the shame someone else tried to dump on me. But I didn’t.

I got up, I showed up. 

I might not be healed yet, but I’m not helpless either.