Marilena arrives at work feeling restless, the city's morning energy failing to settle the storm inside her. She barely slept, her mind stuck on a loop: Solara's knowing words, Jake's smirk, the posts circulating online—and that text from last night, which she can't seem to stop replaying: "Enjoying
your last night of peace? Because the next post won't be as polite." The words pulse through her mind like a drumbeat she can't escape, turning every thought into tension. She knows she shouldn't care, but pretending it doesn't bother her is becoming impossible.
As she steps into the office, the shift in atmosphere hits her immediately. Whispers. Stolen glances. The air itself seems charged, expectant. She grabs a cup of coffee from the break room, letting the warmth of the mug anchor her for a moment, trying to quiet the gnawing anxiety that keeps her heart racing.
