Maya POV
I don’t know what I expected when I woke up the next morning.
Maybe that it would all blow over. That no one had noticed. That the photo hadn’t really been taken.
But the moment I stepped into the office, I felt it. The shift in the air. The silence. And then—the whispers.
“She’s here.”
“Did you see it?”
“Oh my God, yes. She’s shameless.”
“Office slut.”
“She kissed James like that in public. What a—”
I didn’t hear the rest. I didn’t have to.
Because just as I turned the corner to my desk, I saw the photo. On someone’s phone. Blown up. Crystal clear.
Me. Kissing James.
My eyes closed. My hand gripping his collar. His hands on my waist. Mouths locked. And a caption in bold red text below it:
“Our content queen creates her own content.”
I stopped breathing.
The person holding the phone didn’t even try to hide it. She looked right at me and smirked.
I turned on my heel, heart thudding, tears already burning my eyes. I didn’t run. But it was close.
I reached the women’s bathroom, slammed the door shut behind me, and locked myself in the farthest stall.
That’s when the tears came. Hot. Silent. Violent. I sat on the toilet seat, still in my coat, hands gripping my bag so tight my knuckles turned white.
How did I end up here? How did I go from invisible to infamous? Why couldn’t I just keep my head down? Why did I let Noah ruin me like this?
No. Not Noah. Me. I ruined me.
By feeling too much. By hoping for too much. By kissing someone when I should’ve walked away.
The bathroom door creaked open, and I held my breath, praying whoever it was would just leave.
“Maya?”
I recognized the voice immediately.
Tim.
“Go away,” I croaked, barely loud enough to be heard.
“Maya, come out,” he said gently. “It’s just me.”
I wiped my face roughly with my sleeve. “I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because they all think I’m a slut.”
“You’re not,” he said instantly.
“Well, that’s not what they think.”
“Since when did they get to define you?” Tim asked, his tone sharper now. “You’ve been through hell in this place and still show up every day. You do your job. You help everyone. You stay out of drama—until now, maybe, but even that wasn’t your fault.”
I stayed silent. He knocked lightly on the stall door. “Maya, please. Come out.”
I sniffled. My throat hurt. My eyes burned. But I unlocked the door. Tim stood there, holding a pack of tissues and a bottle of water like I was a child who needed comforting.
Honestly, I did.
“You don’t have to break just because they’re trying to bend you,” he said, pressing the tissues into my hand.
I looked at him, my voice raw. “But I feel broken, Tim. I can’t even walk past the desks without feeling like I’m being watched. Judged. I’m a joke now.”
He reached out, gently fixing a piece of my hair. “No, you’re not. You’re just a girl who got caught kissing someone at a party. If a man did it, they’d call him a legend. But because you’re a woman, you get branded.”
I let out a shaky breath. “It’s not fair.”
“No,” he agreed. “It’s not.”
“And Noah…” I whispered, voice cracking. “He saw me. He saw the kiss. And he just walked away.”
Tim looked at me with a mix of pity and anger. “Then screw Noah.”
I blinked. “What?”
“I mean it. If he can’t handle seeing you move on, then that’s his problem. He doesn’t get to treat you like you’re invisible and then get mad when someone else notices you.”
“But I didn’t kiss James because I liked him,” I admitted. “I kissed him because I wanted to feel anything but what I felt when Noah walked away to go be with Ahtisa.”
Tim looked at me, eyes softening. “Oh, Maya…”
“And now I feel worse,” I added. “Because not only did I embarrass myself, but now the entire office knows about it.”
Tim smiled gently, taking my hand. “Then you hold your head up, walk out there, and act like they don’t matter. Because the people who matter? We know who you are.”
I nodded, slowly. I stood, fixing my hair, patting down my coat, forcing the tears to dry. I looked in the mirror and saw a tired girl. But also a fighter.
I could get through this. Even if it sucked. Even if it broke me a little. I could still get through this.
Tim opened the door for me, and we stepped out together. The whispers started again almost immediately. But this time, I didn’t flinch.
I walked with Tim down the hallway, past the gawkers and gossipers, head high even though my heart felt like it was dangling by a thread.
And then—I saw him.
Noah.
In his black turtleneck and fitted gray coat, hair messy like he hadn’t slept, eyes sharp like always. He was walking down the opposite hallway, phone in hand.
For a moment—just a moment—I thought he might look up. Might say something. Might stop. But he didn’t.
He walked right past me.