It only dawns on me that Richard can hold a grudge for longer than a weekend - which, of course, should have really occurred to me earlier - when a message flashes on my computer as I try to send the last month's reports to the printer:

Error. Authorization Required.

The box demanding my password makes me frown, but I type in what I think it should be.

It doesn't work.

Nor do the next three passwords I try.

With a huff, I swivel in my chair and make my way to the door; maybe there's just something wrong with the printer itself.

It's usually not very busy until the afternoon, but the floor's ever-present murmur seems to dim as I walk past cubicles and conference rooms alike. It's discombobulating, like being in a strange movie. A pair of interns stop their hushed conversation and stare when I pass them - though, is it because I'm smiling weird? Is it the pants?

I despise these pants. There's nothing good about them but the pockets.

***

Either the printer has a personal vendetta against me or my "printer privileges" have been revoked by someone else. I know this because when I put in the - finally! - correct password, all the printer prints are pages with the words:

Sorry, your printer privileges have been revoked until further notice.

It's both utterly uncreative and absolutely preposterous. So I try pressing random buttons, but all that manages to do is make the printer buzz irritatedly.

The printer's inaccessibility is only a slight inconvenience and a solvable one at that,  but I find myself still combating the frustration and embarrassment that warms my face.

The whirring of the printer shouldn't seem so loud, but against the backdrop of quiet clicking on keyboards, it's a jarring sound.

As I look around, heads duck before I can make eye contact with anyone, and I begin to understand what's going on.

But still, I hope I'm not right.

I peek my head into a cubical. "Hey- David, right?"

The blonde in question jolts and looks up at me, unease shining in his eyes. Before I can say anything else, he's in action, moving folders and documents around - as if to confuse me.

"Hi. Yeah, but uhm... Sorry, I can't help you at the moment," he gestures to the mess he's made. "Have to organize everything and whatnot."

My throat constricts so tight I'm only able to nod before ducking away.

It seems Richard's sent out a memo: beware the headstrong new lady...

He's messing with me; I know that. But it doesn't make the embarrassment go away.

I eye the printer one last time, but it's not worth it. At least I haven't been locked out of my desktop. Still, the urge to hug myself, if only to seem like a smaller target, is overwhelming, and my head bows of its own accord as I walk back toward my office.

That is, until the sound of brisk footsteps makes me look just a bit ahead, and I see black, Italian leather shoes gleaming so bright, they could only be polished by one very meticulously narcissistic man.

My heart thunders in my chest and I look up hopefully.

Finally, a... friend.

Liam's eyes widen the second we make eye contact, and he angles his feet just enough to propel himself toward me. The corners of my mouth turn up and my hand stretches out as if he's a lifeline.

I clear my throat when Liam's less than five steps away, not even sure what I'm going to say, when something shifts in his eyes. He shuts down; his face hardens, his eyes dim, and his back straightens further - if that's even possible.

At the last second, it's almost like he's teleported to the opposite side of the hallway. He strides past me, and though I know he can see the shock on my face, he doesn't even look my way.

I stare at the place where Liam just passed, my hand half-raised, unable to process the rejection.

But of course - he's Richard's son. He's obligated to avoid me - even if, by some stupid chance, he wouldn't want to.

I take a quick breath in, and then another, because I can't cry here. Not now.

A minute later, Richard walks up from behind me. Unlike Liam, who stayed so far away from me that he was practically pressed up against the wall, Richard comes so close to me that the edge of his folder nicks my arm.

***

I knock twice and then step back. Almost immediately, I hear a "Come on in!" and I cautiously push the door open.

Sarah smirks at me from her desk, tying her hair up to get it out of her face. "I'm surprised to see you here."

I hesitate. Does she not want me here either?

But that worry dissipates the second Sarah rolls her eyes. "Would you come in already? I didn't say it was a bad surprise. When's the last time you were here anyway?"

I clear my throat and straighten, confidence trickling back into my veins. "Uh, I can't remember." The door closes with barely a sound as I lean against a bookshelf. "Do you?"

She snorts. "No - that's the whole point. But what are you here for?"

"Do you have the reports you emailed me printed?"

"Of course."

There's an awkward minute of silence as Sarah ducks her head, leafing through files in the cabinetry under her desk. Awkward, perhaps, only because I'm not sure if I'm supposed to say something about Richard - or even if Richard reached out to accounting too.

"Here, Diamond." Sarah's holding out a stack of papers, and I already know it's going to take me more than a week to look through it. "I think that's all of it."

I give her a grateful smile as I reach for the papers, and I thank her again, thinking that that's it. But when I step back to leave, she says, "He's an absolute ass. We both know that." She raises her voice when I turn back. "And the next time you come in here looking like I'd ever believe the crap Richard sends out, you're buying me lunch. For a week."

For a moment, something in my chest coalesces into a reconstruction of my heart. "We really have to get lunch sometime, don't we?"

"Absolutely. Now go away, I have to finish this shit so that I can have lunch on time."

I laugh and take a step toward the door when it suddenly swings open the whole way, and I press myself back into the bookshelf to avoid being hit. In strides Elliott, his head tilted down and his shoulders so slightly hunched that I nearly don't notice it. He walks past me and places a folder in front of Sarah, who looks over his shoulder at me with a wicked grin.

"Why are you in my office, Elliott?" she says, and I know that she's not actually as annoyed as she sounds.

Elliott, it seems, doesn't know that, and his shoulders cave in further. "Sorry, I didn't know the door would swing in like that." I can't see his face, but I'm sure he grimaces. "I just came to drop off this last report. I've highlighted the discrepancies and my notes are in the margins. I think there's quite a few issues in this one that we need to examine."

Sarah nods along with Elliott then looks back at me with a raised eyebrow. "You want this one too?"

"Yes, please, Sarah." I have to swallow my laugh when Elliott jolts before he slowly turns around toward me; his eyes look haunted. "Hey, Elliott."

Sarah taps the folder impatiently and then gestures to me. "Okay Elliott, I'm going to tell you what I told her: get out."

I roll my eyes and open the door for Elliott who holds his report between shaky hands. He murmurs his thanks as I let the door close behind us. I look him over as we walk down the hallways silently.

"I like the dinosaurs on your tie. The uh... the purple really brings out your eyes," I joke.

A soft smile forms on Elliott's face and he looks down at his tie. "Marabella insisted I wear it today. I pretended to make a big fuss about it this morning, but we both know this is my favorite one." His eyes dart to me, then to his hands, and he hesitantly hands over the folder with a sigh. "I messed up in there, didn't I? I didn't even see you there."

"What? No!" I shake my head. "You're fine. And being off-putting is just part of Sarah's charm." I smile and shrug, "Besides, you know she trusts your work, don't you? She didn't even glance at the report; she let you pass it up to me."

He stops and so do I. For the first time today, Elliott looks into my eyes, and his hunch is almost gone. We're at a crossroads; I know from past experience that I'm going straight but Elliott's going left. So I raise an eyebrow and give him a lopsided smile. "You gonna be okay?"

Unsure eyes glow with sparks of certainty as Elliott nods. "I think so. Thank you." And he walks off.

His strides are still hurried, but he stands taller and his footsteps fall with confidence. He walks away with a new sense of purpose - or so it looks like for the half-second before I walk away too.

***

My highlighters are missing. So is my stapler. And the paperweight Tom gave me a few years ago. I don't miss that.

The box of framed photographs that I'd hidden under my desk has disappeared too. I don't miss that either. In fact, I'm relieved that I won't have to deal with it anymore. But the thought of Richard coming in taking my things, personal artifacts collected over the years, sets me on edge.

To distract myself, I dive into my work, shifting a hurricane of receipts and summaries on my desk. As the day goes on, the chaos spreads around my room. Flurries of documents fall to the floor when I try to create space for more on my desk, forcing me to begin taping them up on the wall.

By the late afternoon, my fingertips are stained with black ink and so is the tip of my nose. I've been in my room all day save for when I went across the street for lunch. The front desk was abandoned both times I passed it - Michelle must have been on break too - so I haven't seen a friendly face since this morning.

It's either get-coffee-and-keep-working or call-it-a-day time. And while the thought of coffee alone is probably enough to propel me through the next half hour, my brain is truly exhausted and I'm itching to rub the ink off my skin properly.

In less than five minutes, I'm putting one arm into the sleeve of my coat while the other pulls my door shut. All the lights are on, but I know that the silence now is not because of me - it's because almost everyone's gone home.

Hopefully tomorrow is better.

I don't want to confront Richard; I'm really hoping it doesn't come to that. But I also don't know how long I can endure everyone avoiding me like the plague.

I've done nothing wrong, I remind myself as I step into the elevator.

This isn't my fault, I remind myself as I step out of the elevator.

Michelle's at her computer when I walk into the reception. I smile. Michelle won't be impacted by anything Richard says. Right?

"Goodnight, Michelle," I say, waving as I walk by her.

One second passes, then two, then three. Michelle continues typing as though she's not heard me - which is impossible.

"Michelle?" My voice is small.

Finally, she looks up, wincing as though I'm the one causing her pain. And a moment later, she looks down again and resumes her typing.

I've done nothing wrong. This isn't my fault.

I mouth the words as whispers, which makes them feel slightly more tangible than thought, as I drive to the hotel.

But sometimes, even spoken words are hard to believe when life does everything to make you think you're wrong.

***

I don't bother trying to talk to anyone for the rest of the week. It's not like they want to talk to me, anyway.

I arrive to work early and speed walk past Michelle in order to avoid any awkward eye contact. The only thing I interact with at work is my work. If I thought the mess I made on Monday was bad, I soon realize that it's only going to get worse before it gets better.

I've never been one to dislike a large workload, but I'm especially grateful that I have so much to do this week. It's easy to bury myself in what I'm doing.

On the off chance that I'm not in my room, I keep to myself and tilt my head down in favor of standing straight. That way, I don't put anyone in an awkward situation when I walk past them.

That way, I don't have to see the way they scramble to avoid me.

I'm especially attuned to, I discover, the sound of Liam's footsteps. Somehow, we've crossed paths several times this week. Every time I hear the click of his heels against the floor, I duck into the nearest empty room. I've been in the bathroom more times than I'll ever admit for this very reason.

Even inside the safety of my room, through the thick oak door, I hear his footsteps pass by intermittently. Sometimes, they'll stop outside the door for a moment before walking away again. I let out a deep breath every time that happens.

For the most part, though, I exist inside the four walls of my office. I have yet to hang a clock up on the wall, but my computer and the shadows inside the room created by the sun provide a good indicator of what the time is.

That doesn't mean that I haven't forgotten to eat lunch twice already. I'm not kidding when I say I'm busy.

***

Friday morning, I'm organizing my desk, hoping that by clearing the clutter, maybe my thought process will be more streamlined, when my door creaks open.

Heart in throat, I look up and see Liam's head peeking in. His lips are turned down in a frown and his forehead is furrowed.

"What?" My voice comes out rougher than I intend, a consequence of having no one to talk to.

Liam nudges the door open more, enough so that he can lean on the doorframe while holding the door open with the toe of his shoe. In one hand, he holds a cardboard cup and in the other, a large box.

"Coffee and doughnuts?" he says with a quirk of his eyebrow.

I blink. "For me?"

"Yeah." He smiles and steps into my room, carefully placing the coffee down in the one place on my desk where there aren't papers scattered, and then excitedly opening the box. "I wasn't sure what you like so I got one of everything."

"I... don't like doughnuts."

The look on his face makes me think that I should have lied.

But I couldn't have! I'm impartial to jalebi!

Oh, and rasmalai. Rasmalai is amazing.

"Fine!" he shrugs defensively. "I'll take them then."

"Yeah..." I trail off, not sure what to say. Why is he even here? Is he trying to make ammen-

"Are you sure?" He fidgets, like he doesn't actually want the doughnuts - not all of them, at least; I catch him eyeing a glazed doughnut at the bottom right of the box. "Because then I'll eat them all."

It's not even ten a.m. and I'm mentally exhausted. "Then I hope that makes you happy," I sigh.

Liam's eyes narrow and his ears burn red. "I don't understand your reverse psychology," he huffs, placing the box - still open - on top of a book. "Keep them, they're for you," he holds a hand out, palm facing me, as if he's warding off evil, "You're supposed to eat them and be happy."

Then, after a lingering gaze at the glazed doughnut, Liam spins around and walks out the door. Just before he disappears from view, I think I see his whole neck flushed a deep red.

For a minute after Liam's departure, I just sit in my chair, staring at the doughnuts. My nose scrunches up at the strange scent of blueberry, custard, and chocolate, and for a moment, I consider stuffing them all in my mouth just to be done with them.

But then, I have an idea. I carefully pick up the box and head out the door. I grab a stack of paper napkins from beside the coffee machine and, after a deep breath, I march toward the cubicles, determined to distribute doughnuts.

I'll fix my own problems, one doughnut - no, I mean, one person - at a time.

I forget I am Diamond and spread sweetness.

***

happy spring break to those who, like me, have spring break!

as usual, i have absolutely no idea what's to come next (or do i?)

but i have some GOOD NEWS!!!

i'm thinking about writing and publishing an extended scene for this chapter in particular on my instagram: @justanotherdarling in case anyone's interested :)

disclaimer: it's not up yet.... i have yet to write it...but it'll be mostly fluff.....and maybe a different POV :D

i hope you enjoyed the chapter!

(it felt kinda boring to me at some parts, so let me know what you like/don't like?)

anywho.... until i see you all again,

all my love, and then some more

JustAnotherDarling