His Evasion
At dinner, I feigned nonchalance. "Long session with Jenna this afternoon? Saw your screen timed out." Mark stabbed at broccoli, not looking up. "Yeah, cross-checking some temp data. Her system’s faster." "Data checks take that long? With the door closed?" I stared. He finally met my eyes, a flash of annoyance. "What? Broadcast it? It’s confidential! Her office has better shielding." His tone sharpened. He scraped his fork loudly across the plate. "Stop obsessing! Eat!" He wolfed down his food, retreating to the kitchen sink, scrubbing dishes fiercely. A rigid back screaming denial. Gone was the man who used to vent about Jenna’s demands.
That Afternoon
The breaking point came on a stifling afternoon. The AC whined, offering little relief. I saw Mark enter Jenna’s office again, carrying a boutique shopping bag. The door clicked shut. Minutes crawled. Thirty. Colleagues typed away; keyboards clattered. Only Jenna's corner pulsed with unnatural stillness. I went to the restroom. Returning, I detoured near her door. Closer. In the dead quiet, a faint yet distinct sound emerged. *Thud… Thud… Thud…* Muffled, rhythmic. Like something soft but resilient impacting solid wood. Perhaps… the desk edge?
Opening the Door
I froze. Every pore screamed. Blood roared in my ears, drowning out office noise. Jenna’s deliberately soft, gasping breaths. That rhythmic, heavy thudding. They tightened like a vise around my temples. My body moved before my mind commanded. Instinct propelled me forward. My hand closed on the cold brass knob. No hesitation. The lock clicked. I shoved—the door hit the stopper with a soft thump. The scene inside assaulted my vision.
NEXT >>
At dinner, I feigned nonchalance. "Long session with Jenna this afternoon? Saw your screen timed out." Mark stabbed at broccoli, not looking up. "Yeah, cross-checking some temp data. Her system’s faster." "Data checks take that long? With the door closed?" I stared. He finally met my eyes, a flash of annoyance. "What? Broadcast it? It’s confidential! Her office has better shielding." His tone sharpened. He scraped his fork loudly across the plate. "Stop obsessing! Eat!" He wolfed down his food, retreating to the kitchen sink, scrubbing dishes fiercely. A rigid back screaming denial. Gone was the man who used to vent about Jenna’s demands.
That Afternoon
The breaking point came on a stifling afternoon. The AC whined, offering little relief. I saw Mark enter Jenna’s office again, carrying a boutique shopping bag. The door clicked shut. Minutes crawled. Thirty. Colleagues typed away; keyboards clattered. Only Jenna's corner pulsed with unnatural stillness. I went to the restroom. Returning, I detoured near her door. Closer. In the dead quiet, a faint yet distinct sound emerged. *Thud… Thud… Thud…* Muffled, rhythmic. Like something soft but resilient impacting solid wood. Perhaps… the desk edge?
Opening the Door
I froze. Every pore screamed. Blood roared in my ears, drowning out office noise. Jenna’s deliberately soft, gasping breaths. That rhythmic, heavy thudding. They tightened like a vise around my temples. My body moved before my mind commanded. Instinct propelled me forward. My hand closed on the cold brass knob. No hesitation. The lock clicked. I shoved—the door hit the stopper with a soft thump. The scene inside assaulted my vision.
NEXT >>
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