Anabelle sat quietly at her desk, staring at the report on her computer screen. The numbers were right, but her mind wasn’t.
Every click of the keyboard around her felt heavier than usual. People greeted each other in low voices, yet when she spoke, they grew silent.
The small shift in tone was enough for her to feel it—something had changed, and not in her favor.
When she walked into the staff lounge, two women near the coffee machine stopped talking and smiled too quickly.
“Morning, Anabelle,” one of them said, her tone sweet but distant.
Anabelle smiled back, pretending not to notice the tension that floated in the air. She poured her coffee, hands steady even though her chest tightened.
Her phone buzzed on the counter. It was a text from Fred: “Don’t forget to eat. You’ve been
