The moment the office clock struck six, I closed my laptop with more force than necessary. My hands trembled slightly, and my chest felt tight—not from work, but from the memory of the blood-written note that had been left on my desk. I stared at it for a long, long moment, as if memorizing the strokes would somehow prepare me for what I was about to do.I grabbed my bag, my heels clicking sharply against the office floor as I made my way to the elevator. My stomach was in knots, twisting in anxiety I didn’t quite know how to manage.By the time I reached the lobby, I had to steady myself against the marble counter, taking a deep, shaky breath. I didn’t even bother glancing at the security guard. I just asked for directions to the police station and walked out, the cool evening air hitting me like a slap in the face.Some part of me wanted to bolt back into my office, hide in my studio, pretend this hadn’t happened. But the larger part, the part that refused to be weak, reminded me th
Last Updated : 2025-09-18
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