The harsh fluorescent light of the office restroom flickered overhead as Naomi pressed her trembling hands against the cold sink. Silent tears traced hot trails down her cheeks, each one heavier than the last.
The cramped space felt suffocating, but it was the only place she could escape to where no one expected her to smile or pretend.
Footsteps echoed softly outside, then paused just beyond the door."
Are you okay?" a gentle voice asked.
Naomi startled, quickly wiping her face.
The voice belonged to a man — calm, sincere, carrying no judgment.
She recognized him faintly from earlier, the new manager at her company.
A fleeting glance exchanged in the hallway, a polite 'hello,' nothing more. Yet here he was now, offering a quiet life line she wasn't sure she deserved.
She hesitated, then nodded. "I'm fine," she whispered, though the cracked edges of her voice betrayed her.
He smiled softly through the door. "If you ever need someone to listen, I'm around." Because sometimes, the first step toward healing starts with a stranger's compassion.
Naomi took a shaky breath, letting his kindness settle around her like a fragile shield,she wiped the last tear from her cheek and forced a small smile. "I'm fine, thanks," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I should get back to work."
Michael hesitated, then nodded slowly. "Okay, if you insist."
She heard the gentle retreat of his footsteps down the hall, leaving her alone with the echo of her own heartbeat.
Naomi leaned against the cool sink, closing her eyes for a moment. She thought burying herself in work would be enough.
That the endless hours at the advertising firm, juggling clients and deadlines, would numb the ache.But the silence between meetings, the solitude in her apartment, and the quiet moment at lunch break, whispered something else.
Her mind drifted back to the day she met Jeremiah — calm, quiet, and gentle. He was the kind of man who pampered her with soft words and thoughtful gestures, always quick to apologize whenever he sensed even the slightest upset. At first, it felt like a dream come true — someone who seemed to understand her without needing her to explain, who made her feel safe in a world that had hurt her before.
But beneath that tender surface, things began to shift. The late-night calls from a woman named mirabel he brushed off as "just friends," the subtle glances at his phone he tried to hide whenever Naomi came near. His calmness never faltered, but a distance grew between them — quiet, unseen, but deeply felt.
The gentle ones are always the worst sons of the devil, she murmured under her breath, the bitter truth settling heavy in her chest.
She caught her reflection in the mirror — eyes red-rimmed but steady, cheeks flushed from tears she'd wiped away. No trace of weakness, she told herself. No sign of the storm gathering just beneath the surface.
Straightening her shoulders, Naomi pushed away from the mirror and stepped back into the fluorescent-lit hallway, the steady click of her heels masking the chaos inside.
But as she reached for the door handle to her office, her phone buzzed sharply in her purse — a message preview lighting up the screen.
From Jeremiah:
We need to talk. It's important.
Her breath hitched.