Marcel

The room feels smaller than usual, suffocating even, as I stare at the blank screen.

The files are gone.

Everything we've worked on for weeks, every late-night session, every moment we've shared over this damn project-gone. The pitch deck, the designs, the deliverables, the numbers... all vanished.

I don't even register how long I've been sitting here, just staring at the empty folders, before Lori's voice breaks through my thoughts.

"What the hell is going on?" She stands at the doorway, looking like she's just walked into a storm and doesn't know whether to run or stand her ground.

She's got that look-the one I'm used to seeing when she's already bracing for impact.

I've spent time with her all weekend and somehow, seeing her now still makes my tummy flop. But now's not the time.

"I don't know," I snap, because it's the only answer that makes sense. "The files are gone. Everything's gone."

She steps closer, her eyes scanning the screen. I see her fingers twitching, like she's about to reach for the keyboard, but she holds herself back.

"This doesn't make sense. They were here three days ago. Did you check the backups?"

I nod stiffly. I've checked everything.

"They're not there. I don't know what happened. Maybe the system crashed or-"

"No," she interrupts, her tone sharp. She's already flipping through the files on her phone, scrolling fast like she's trying to find something, anything that can explain this.

She stops suddenly, her face hardening as she looks up at me. "Someone did this. On purpose."

I swallow. I've been trying to convince myself it's some sort of glitch, but the cold, bitter truth is starting to sink in.

"Who would do this?"

She doesn't even hesitate. Her voice is low and dangerous.

"You know who it is. It's that asshole from marketing, Tyler. He's been on my case for weeks. It has to be him."

I flinch at the accusation, at the thought of someone--someone I don't even know very well--being the source of this chaos.

But Lori's not done yet. She's pacing now, her face flushed with frustration, and I'm starting to feel the heat rising between us.

I stand up, hands shaking slightly as I type something into the search bar again, though I know it's pointless. We're in the same boat, and I'm not sure what to do.

But the weight of her stare is heavy, and it feels like I'm suffocating with every second that passes.

I can't believe this is happening. Four months of work, vanished into thin air.

I glance at Lori again, who's standing by my desk with her arms crossed, her jaw set in that stubborn way I used to find cute.

Now it just makes my blood boil.

"How could you be so careless?" The words come out sharp, but I don't care.

The anger is rising in my chest like a tide.

"We have a system, Lori. A system! You can't just go changing file locations without telling anyone!"

"Excuse me?" Lori's voice is ice-cold. "Don't you dare pin this on me. I've been following your precious system to the letter while you've been micromanaging everything I do."

"Clearly not!" I snap, pushing away from my desk. The chair rolls back with a harsh screech against the floor. "Because if you had, we wouldn't be standing here looking at an empty folder, would we?"

"Oh, that's rich coming from you." Lori lets out a bitter laugh. "You're so convinced you're perfect, aren't you? That you can't possibly make mistakes because you're the boss's daughter?"

Her words hit like a slap, and for a moment, I see red.

"Don't you dare bring my father into this. This is about your incompetence, not my family."

"Incompetence?" Lori's voice rises, matching my anger. "I've been killing myself for this project! But you're so busy watching my every move, waiting for me to slip up, that you can't even see it!"

"I knew this would happen," I spit out, pacing now. "I knew getting involved with you would mess everything up."

The air freezes between us, but instead of tears, I see fury flash in Lori's eyes.

"Oh, that's what this is about? You want to blame our relationship for your control issues?"

"My control issues?" I laugh, but there's no humor in it. "It means I let my guard down! I let myself get distracted by your little games and your 'let's take a weekend away, Marcel, it'll be good for us.' And look where it got me!"

"Your guard down?" Lori steps closer, her voice dangerously low. "You never let your guard down. That's the whole problem. You're so terrified of not being perfect that you can't trust anyone else to do their job!"

"Trust? You want to talk about trust? What's going to happen when I have to explain to the board on Monday why we're behind schedule? When I have to tell my father I failed because I was too busy playing house with my fucking coworker?"

"Playing house?" Lori's eyes flash. "Is that what you think this was? Well, don't worry. You won't have to explain anything to Daddy about your little workplace fling anymore. I'm done."

"Good," I snap back, even as something in my chest constricts.

"Because I regret this whole thing. I regret ever letting this"-I gesture between us-"become more than professional. It was stupid and unprofessional and completely unlike me."

"You know what?" Lori grabs her bag from her desk. "I regret it too. I regret thinking you were anything more than a scared little girl hiding behind her father's name. Good luck finding those files, Marcel. Maybe check your own backups before you go around accusing people."

The door slams behind her with enough force to rattle the windows. I stand there, fists clenched, breathing hard, trying to convince myself that this is better.

This is safer. This is what I should have done from the start.

I sit here in my office, staring at her empty chair, and everything feels wrong. Sure, the files are still missing, and yeah, Dad's going to be disappointed, but that's not what's making my stomach turn.

All those things I said to her, all that anger I threw at her... God, I really messed this up, didn't I?

Her coffee mug's still on her desk - the stupid one from her home with the cat puns that always made me roll my eyes. Now I can't even look at it without feeling like someone's squeezing my chest.

I keep telling myself this is for the best, that work comes first, that mixing business with pleasure was always going to blow up in our faces.

But sitting here, watching her screensaver bounce around on her computer screen like nothing's changed... I don't believe any of it.

No matter how many times I repeat it to myself. The truth is, I'm just scared. Scared of failing, scared of disappointing Dad, scared of... hell, scared of how much I actually care about her.

And now I've gone and wrecked the one good thing I had going, all because I couldn't handle not being perfect.

And somewhere beneath all this anger, in a place I'm not ready to acknowledge, I wonder if she was right about me all along.