Lori

I’m lurking outside Navarro’s office, practically fused with the wall, catching bits of his conversation with Marcel.

His voice is low, dripping with that quiet frustration that sinks right under your skin.

Marcel’s responses are clipped, like she’s trying to keep herself from snapping.

“Marcelina, you’re treating the MedVax project too lightly,” Navarro says, his voice all hard edges. “This isn’t a side gig for you. I need you to step up.”

I can practically feel Marcel bristling. I imagine her crossing her arms, jaw clenching.

“I am taking it seriously,” she fires back, but there’s irritation in her voice. “I’ve been putting in the work, but… Lori’s...she’s not exactly the easiest person to collaborate with.”

Her words hit me like a slap to the face. Difficult?

How dare she?

She doesn’t know I’m standing here, and maybe that’s why she’s willing to say it, but still—how dare she try to poison me to our boss...and behind my freaking back?

I know I can be stubborn because let's face it, I like things done my way. But hearing her say that to Navarro is just... betrayal at its best. I don't go behind her back to tell him how much she makes my work hard!

I can hear Navarro sighing heavily, one that says he’s got too many things on his plate and not enough patience.

“Find a way to bridge that gap, Marcel. I don’t care how challenging it is. If you can’t make this work, I’ll have to put someone else on the project. Understood?”

The strangest feeling buzzes in my chest --- guilt.

Is it that bad?

I know how much this means to Marcel and I'm the happiest person to keep shitting on her plans right now but if it's going to cost her this much, maybe I'm pushing too hard without thinking.

I hear footsteps and try to slip away, but Marcel is out of the office before I can get away.

"He wants to see you." Her eyes are somewhat watery and her voice is clipped.

I swallow, giving a curt nod before entering Navarro's office.

I take a breath.

Navarro gestures to the chair across from him, and I sit, doing my best to keep a neutral expression.

He studies me, his gaze is sharp and searching, and I feel like I’m in the hot seat.

“Lori, I know working with Marcelina hasn’t been easy. She has high standards, and her… intensity can be overwhelming.”

I don’t know what to say, so I settle for a nod.

“Yeah, it’s been… something,” I admit carefully, not wanting to say too much.

Navarro leans forward, resting his hands on the desk.

“The MedVax project is critical. It’s a huge opportunity for Voxel. But if the two of you can’t work together, it’s not only the project’s success that’s at risk—it’s our reputation and yours.”

His words take a moment to sink in.

I agreed to do this to show that I’m just as valuable in this as Marcel and also rip off the benefits, but I didn’t realize just how much of my energy it required.

Everyone's putting their faith in us to deliver.

“I understand,” I say quietly. “I don’t want to make this any harder.”

Navarro’s expression softens, and he nods, looking almost relieved.

“Thank you, Lori. I wouldn’t have partnered you with Marcel if I didn’t believe in your potential to work together. Keep that in mind, alright?”

“Of course,” I reply, standing up to leave.

His words linger in my mind as I make my way back to my desk, passing by Marcel who’s laser-focused on her computer screen.

She doesn’t glance up, doesn’t acknowledge me. And I don’t blame her—she clearly thinks I'm the problem here.

Back at my desk, I sit, tapping a pen against my keyboard.

Marcel sounded exhausted when she spoke to her father earlier. It makes me wonder if I'm making everything worse for her. I know she is trying so hard.

The realization isn’t a fun one, but it’s real. I’ve been more focused on  myself than on the actual project.

My phone buzzes on my desk, breaking me out of my thoughts. It’s a message from Zoe.

Zoe: Guess who just survived a wedding with 300 guests and the world’s biggest bridezilla mom.

Lori: Only 300? You’re slacking.

Her reply is instant.

Zoe: I’m already half a bottle of wine in, and it’s not even five. I didn’t sign up for this level of emotional warfare.

A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth. Imagining her dishealved state.

Lori: I thought you thrived on stress? Isn’t that why you ditched corporate?

Zoe: Thrived on stress, not insanity. This mom had me checking if the chairs were “fluffed enough” every ten minutes.

Lori: Fluffed enough? That’s a new one. I’ll keep that in mind for your wedding.

Zoe: When you’re my maid of honor, I’ll make you fluff every single chair.

I shake my head, laughing despite myself. Zoe’s little typing bubble pops up again.

Zoe: But seriously I will die. What's up with you? We go out later tonight?

I stare at the message for a second, debating what to say.  Last time I drunk on a working night I woke up with a fucking hungover and I went running back to my ex whom I'm trying so hard to get over.

Lori: Yeah, I could use a drink. Princess just snitched on me.

Zoe: What did she say? To whom?

Lori: Her daddy.

Zoe: No way!

Lori: Yup.

Zoe: she's such a bitch.

I swallow, somehow the words not sitting right with me. I feel like it would sound better if I were the one saying them and nobody else.

Lori: Thanks. Yes she is.

Zoe: call you later.

As the day drags on, I keep glancing over at Marcel. She's working but her shoulders are tense as her fingers tap at her keyboard.

Every now and then, her gaze flickers to the door, like she’s thinking about leaving.

I almost want to walk over, start some kind of conversation—hell, even a small apology. But my pride won't let me.

When the clock finally hits five, the office starts to empty out.

Marcel stands, gathers her things, and heads for the door without a glance in my direction.

As much as I want to let it go, I can’t help the wave of guilt eating at me while she leaves.

I need to fix this.

I walk out, thinking that tomorrow I will make things right. I won't fight with her anymore, I will just be chill and let her be the control freak she wants to be.

Anything, as long as it's pushing our work forward.

I owe her that much.

....

Pride is the devil!