Clariss had never imagined silence could feel this heavy.
She sat in the conference room with her back straight and her chin lifted, but the air around her felt suffocating. The glass walls reflected her image from every angle—flawless hair, immaculate makeup, calm expression.
A perfect illusion.
Across from her, the HR manager placed a folder on the table.
Inside were printed screenshots. Email logs. Time stamps. CCTV stills.
And at the very top—
A formal memo signed by the Assistant Director Damian Sinclair.
"We've reviewed the materials you submitted," the HR manager said evenly. "Along with the additional documentation provided afterward."
Clariss's nails dug into her palm.
Additional documentation.
She knew immediately what that meant.
Damian hadn't just blocked her plan—he dismantled it piece by piece.
"The claims you raised about Amara Castellanos creating an inappropriate workplace environment," HR continued, "were found to be unsubstantiated."
Clariss inhaled slowly. "I only wanted to protect the company's image."
The HR manager's gaze sharpened.
"Intent does not excuse fabrication."
Clariss's throat tightened.
"You selectively cropped images," HR said, sliding one photo forward. "You omitted witnesses. And you failed to mention your personal involvement with Director Navarro at the time."
That landed.
Hard.
"This borders on harassment," HR added. "And misuse of internal reporting systems."
Clariss felt the ground shift beneath her.
"What… happens now?" she asked quietly.
HR closed the folder.
"You are being formally reprimanded. Your performance record will reflect this incident. Any repeat behaviour of this nature will lead to termination."
Clariss's breath trembled—just once.
She nodded.
But inside—
Something cracked.
Clariss barely made it three steps out of the meeting room before she heard her name.
"Clariss."
She froze.
Amara stood at the end of the hallway.
Not shaking.
Not pale.
Not hiding.
She walked forward slowly, her expression calm—but unyielding.
"I know what you tried to do," Amara said.
Clariss scoffed weakly. "You think you do."
"I do," Amara replied evenly. "You wanted to ruin my reputation. You wanted to make it look like I crossed lines that never existed."
Clariss crossed her arms defensively. "You've always been good at playing innocent."
Amara shook her head.
"That's the problem. You don't know me at all."
Clariss's lips pressed together.
Yes, I liked Kael," Amara said, pausing long enough for silence to sting. "But I didn't chase him. I wasn't your rival. And I never once laid the weight of blame at your feet."
She stepped closer.
"But you still chose to hurt me."
Clariss laughed—sharp, brittle. "Because you always had what I couldn't!"
Amara's eyes softened—not with pity, but clarity.
"No," she said. "I just didn't take what wasn't mine."
Silence stretched between them.
Then Amara spoke again—quiet, resolute.
"This is the last time I will let you speak to me like I'm less than you."
Clariss stared at her.
"You don't scare me anymore," Amara finished.
She turned and walked away.
Leaving Clariss alone with her unravelling reflection.
The whispers started almost immediately.
People noticed.
Damian didn't avoid them.
He addressed them.
During the department meeting that afternoon, Damian stood at the front of the room, hands resting casually on the table.
His voice was calm.
Clear.
"I want to clarify something," he said.
The room stilled.
"There have been false assumptions circulating about my colleague Amara Castellanos."
His gaze swept the room—firm, unapologetic.
"She has conducted herself professionally at all times. Any suggestion otherwise is incorrect."
No ambiguity.
No hesitation.
"If anyone has concerns," Damian continued, "bring them to me directly. Not through rumours. Not through manipulation."
He paused.
"And for the record—supporting a colleague does not require justification."
Amara sat frozen at her desk.
Her chest felt tight.
Not from fear.
But from the weight of being seen.
Protected.
Damian met her eyes briefly.
And smiled.
Kael learned the truth from Jake.
And it hit him harder than he expected.
"You didn't hear?" Jake said. "Clariss got called in by HR. Apparently she tried to set Amara up."
Kael's blood went cold.
"What?" he snapped.
"She fabricated reports. Damian shut it down. Hard."
Kael's grip tightened on his phone.
Clariss.
He remembered her smiles. Her whispers. Her "warnings."
And suddenly—
The image of Amara standing tall in the hallway replayed in his mind.
Not crying.
Not begging.
Walking away.
Kael leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling.
He had wanted Amara jealous.
Instead—
He had pushed her into someone else's protection.
And for the first time—
That protection wasn't him.
The rooftop was quiet.
The city hummed below them, distant and steady, as if the world had agreed to give them a moment of peace. Cool air brushed against Amara's cheeks, but the warmth in her hands—wrapped around the paper cup Damian had given her—refused to fade.
She hadn't noticed when he handed it to her. He hadn't said anything either. He never needed to.
"Thank you," Amara said at last, breaking the silence.
Damian glanced at her. "For what?"
"For earlier," she replied softly.
He smiled—not wide, not playful. Just gentle. Certain.
Amara's fingers tightened slightly around the cup.
She lifted her head and looked at him.
Really looked.
And immediately, her heart betrayed her.
Her cheeks warmed, heat creeping up her neck, and she had to look away again—just like she had been doing all day. It wasn't shyness exactly. It was something sharper. More unsettling.
"You didn't have to go that far," she said, focusing on the city lights instead of his face. "Standing up for me like that… you didn't have to."
"I wanted to," Damian answered simply.
No justification. No expectation.
Just truth.
Silence settled between them again—but it wasn't heavy. It wrapped around them like something familiar, something safe. Amara breathed out slowly, trying to calm the strange flutter in her chest.
Why can't I look at him properly?
She frowned slightly at herself.
Ever since that fall in the hallway—since she had ended up on top of him, her hand over his mouth, his arms instinctively holding her steady—something inside her had been… off.
Every time she remembered it, her face burned.
Every time Damian stood too close, her heart raced.
It must be embarrassment, she told herself firmly. Anyone would feel awkward after something like that.
That's all it is.
She didn't dare name it anything else.
"I think…" Amara said quietly, her voice thoughtful. "I'm finally done looking back."
Damian turned toward her fully now.
His gaze softened—not with relief, but with respect.
"Good," he said. "Then we can look forward."
Amara smiled.
Not the shy smile she used when she was unsure.
Not the guarded one she wore to protect herself.
But something real.
Something that surprised even her.
She took another sip of her drink, warmth spreading through her chest again—this time not from the cup, but from the quiet certainty beside her.
She didn't know what this feeling was yet.
Didn't understand why her heart beat faster when Damian said her name, or why she felt safest standing here with him.
But for the first time—
She wasn't afraid of not knowing.
And somewhere below, in an office lit by regret and silence, Kael finally understood what he had lost.
Not because someone took it from him.
But because he never knew how to hold it.