The office had fallen into that sweet rhythm of late morning productivity. Phones rang softly in the background, keyboards clicked in staccato beats, and the low hum of the printer occasionally interrupted the calm. Naomi sat at her desk, a cup of lukewarm coffee at her side, her fingers moving absently across the keyboard as she polished the last touches of her report. The day had been mercifully quiet—no unexpected calls, no deadlines breathing down her neck.And then her phone buzzed.
Naomi reached for it without looking, expecting another casual text from Tasha about lunch plans. But the words that flashed across her screen made her stomach flip.Why don't you want to return his stuff? Is it that you're still in love with him or what?Naomi froze. She blinked at the words once, then again, as if her eyes were playing tricks on her.The second message popped up almost immediately.He doesn't want you anymore. Why can't you just stop this little play you have going on?A chill crept down her spine. Her heart began to thud against her ribs, sharp and uneven. She could almost hear the mocking tone in those words, dripping with spite.
"What?" Naomi whispered under her breath, her fingers tightening around the phone. "What the hell is this?"Her first instinct was denial. Maybe it was a wrong number. Maybe this wasn't even meant for her. But deep down, she already knew better. There weren't many people who would crawl this low, needle her in this exact way, poke at wounds that hadn't even healed yet.Jennifer.Of course.Naomi could practically see her.
Jennifer, the girl Jeremiah had left her for, smug in her victory, flaunting the fact that she had moved into Naomi's old life, like stepping into a role she thought she deserved. The apartment Naomi once called home was now Jennifer's stage, her showcase of conquest. And now, apparently, Jennifer had decided that tormenting Naomi wasn't just sport—it was necessary.
Naomi's jaw clenched so hard she felt a twinge of pain shoot up to her temples. She scrolled quickly through her phone, her thumb moving with practiced anger until she found the number Jeremiah had used to call her a few days ago.Her finger hovered over the "call" button. She imagined the call connecting, Jeremiah answering with that casual tone she used to love but now loathed. She pictured herself telling him off, demanding he control his girlfriend, asking him what kind of woman he thought he had chosen—a woman who found joy in tormenting others.Her chest rose and fell faster. A part of her wanted the satisfaction of that confrontation. Wanted him to know she wasn't some quiet pushover who could be mocked into silence.But another part of her—the part that had been growing stronger lately—hesitated.
Wouldn't that be exactly what they wanted? For her to pick up, lash out, get caught in the web of their drama all over again?Naomi let out a sharp breath and dropped the phone onto her desk. It landed with a soft thud, screen still glowing, Jennifer's poison lingering on it."No," Naomi muttered, shaking her head. "I'm not indulging this. Not today."She leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes for a moment, trying to will away the heat prickling at the back of her neck. Her office felt suddenly smaller, the walls closer, the air heavier.Her mind began to drift back—uninvited, unwelcome—to the first cracks in her relationship with Jeremiah. The late nights he didn't bother to explain, the sudden distance in his eyes when she tried to ask. The way he used to laugh with her but had slowly turned that laugh into something reserved for someone else. She had loved him—deeply, foolishly, perhaps blindly. And he had chosen to betray her in the most public way possible, moving on not just with anyone, but with someone who seemed to enjoy dancing on Naomi's broken pieces.Her fingers curled into fists on her lap.
She thought again of telling Tasha. The image of her best friend's reaction played out vividly in her mind: Tasha's eyes widening, her mouth setting into a thin, dangerous line, her voice sharp with outrage. Tasha wouldn't let this go. She'd march into Naomi's personal life like a hurricane, demanding names, numbers, confrontations.Naomi sighed heavily, opening her eyes to stare at the faint reflection of herself on her darkened computer screen. Did she really want to drag Tasha into this? It would only add fuel to the fire. Tasha was protective, yes, but she was also impulsive. And Naomi had promised herself—after everything—that she wouldn't let Jeremiah and Jennifer occupy more of her time, her thoughts, her energy."I don't want anymore Jeremiah drama," she whispered, almost as if saying it out loud could make it true.Still, the words on the phone screen burned.Why don't you want to return his stuff?What stuff? Naomi racked her brain, trying to remember what else Jeremiah could have possibly left behind. A shirt? A book?"Those stuffs I took from him,were all bought in my name,Naomi muttered,and I will give them back whenever I feel like". Or maybe this wasn't about objects at all. Maybe it was a metaphor, a twisted suggestion that Naomi was holding onto something emotional, something she should've let go of long ago.Was that what Jennifer thought? That Naomi was still clinging to Jeremiah?The thought made her laugh bitterly. If only Jennifer knew how often Naomi had cursed his name in the silence of her apartment, how many nights she had promised herself she was done, how many mornings she had woken up determined not to let him haunt her anymore. Love had turned into something sour, something heavy, something she couldn't wait to shed.And yet, here Jennifer was, reminding her of a wound that hadn't fully scarred over.Naomi glanced at the phone again. The messages sat there like tiny bombs, daring her to respond. Daring her to prove that she was still invested enough to fight back.Her hand hovered above it, trembling slightly."No," she said again, firmer this time. She pushed the phone away, forcing it to slide across the desk until it rested by her keyboard.Instead, she grabbed her coffee cup, though the liquid inside had gone cold. She took a sip anyway, the bitterness grounding her, pulling her mind back from the spiral. She wasn't going to give Jennifer the satisfaction. Not today.But as Naomi returned to her work, trying to focus on the words on her screen, the question lingered in her mind like an echo she couldn't quite silence.Should she really stay quiet? Or should she fight back, if only to show them she wasn't the broken girl they thought she was?Her phone buzzed again, snapping her out of thought.This time, Naomi didn't look right away. She stared at it from a distance, the glow on the desk almost taunting her. Slowly, with a steadying breath, she reached for it, bracing herself.Was it Jennifer again—or something, someone else entirely?Naomi's pulse quickened, a storm brewing quietly behind her composed exterior.
It was a text from Michael.
Free for dinner tonight? I have some ideas to discuss with you.