Maya POV
“Maya, you cannot overwork yourself like this.”
I blinked, lifting my eyes from the glaring screen. The bright light of my laptop reflected off my glasses, casting sharp shadows on the wall behind me. I hadn’t realized how late it was, how empty the office had become.
Tim stood near my desk with a frown etched on his face, arms crossed and eyes full of concern. I knew what he saw—dark circles under my eyes, smudged eyeliner, a once-crisp blouse now wrinkled from hours of slumping over a desk. My hands were trembling slightly from exhaustion and caffeine.
I sighed, running my fingers through my hair. “I need to get this done, Tim. The presentation’s due tomorrow, and Noah is being—ugh—impossible.”
“Girl,” Tim said, moving closer, “Noah Sterling has been a pain in your pretty little ass since the second he walked in here.”
“Tell me about it,” I muttered.
I leaned back in my chair, rubbing my eyes, trying to will away the headache that had been building behind them since lunchtime. “He keeps ripping my work apart. Every single draft, every graph, every idea—I swear he finds a new reason to hate it. Or me.”
Tim crouched beside me, gently placing a hand on my shoulder. “You’re doing too much. You haven’t slept properly in days, and for what? To please him?”
“He’s my boss.”
“He’s your tormentor.”
I gave a weak laugh, but there was no humor in it. Just exhaustion.
And then—
“Maya.”
His voice. The one I was hoping I could avoid just for one night.
I stiffened, eyes locking with Tim’s. Noah’s voice carried from behind him, curt and cold, like always.
I stood up quickly, brushing invisible lint off my skirt. “I have to go,” I mumbled.
Tim held out his coffee cup. “Here. Take this. Mine’s triple shot and laced with emotional support.”
I took it gratefully. “You’re a lifesaver.”
And then—without thinking—I chugged it.
All of it.
“Whoa!” Tim laughed. “I meant sip it!”
But it was exactly what I needed. Warm, bitter, strong. Like liquid clarity.
“Let’s get this over with,” I whispered to myself and headed down the hall to Noah’s office.
He didn’t even look up when I entered. Just sat behind his sleek desk, typing something furiously on his laptop. The window behind him cast him in silhouette—powerful, distant, unreadable.
“Come here,” he said, finally glancing up.
I walked toward his desk, heart already picking up speed. The graph I submitted was on his screen.
“You call this acceptable?”
I clenched my jaw. “That’s the version based on the revised data you approved yesterday.”
Noah stood abruptly, eyes narrowing as he pointed at a dip in the chart. “This drop makes no sense. Are you stupid? You’re as useless as you look.”
I froze. Those words hit me like a punch to the gut.
Stupid. Useless.
I’d been called a lot of things in this office. But never like that. Never with such finality.
“What the hell is wrong with the graph?” I asked, voice tight.
“Don’t talk to me like that,” he snapped.
I took a breath, my chest aching. “I’m sorry,” I said quickly, the words like glass in my throat. “But there’s nothing wrong with it. I checked the numbers five times. The problem isn’t with the graph, Noah. It’s with the way you treat people.”
His eyes flared—but he didn’t say anything.
I wanted to scream. Cry. Quit. But instead, I straightened my shoulders.
“I’ll fix it,” I said, voice shaking. “If that’s what you want. Is that all?”
He paused, watching me like he wanted to say something else—but then just muttered, “Yes. That’s all.”
I turned on my heel and walked out before he could see my face crumble.
The bathroom was thankfully empty.
I locked myself in the furthest stall and sat on the closed toilet lid, burying my face in my hands.
And then—I let it go.
Hot, messy, uncontrollable tears spilled down my cheeks. I sobbed quietly, chest heaving, my breath catching every few seconds as the pressure of the past few days finally broke me open.
I cried for the sleep I didn’t get. For the effort that was never good enough. For the way he looked at me—like I was some kind of mistake.
I cried because I knew I was trying so hard to be seen. And still, I wasn’t enough. Still just the office wallflower. Still just the girl no one believed in.
Still… not even human in Noah Sterling’s eyes.