Chapter 2 Two

AIDA Sometimes I wonder how I ended up with someone like him. We've been together for a year now, and he's always been like this. I kept lying to myself, thinking that with time, I'd prove to him that he could trust me. That he'd finally see the kind of love I have for him. But the truth is, an animal like him could never comprehend a love like mine,one that's patient, loyal, and far too forgiving. I sighed, gave him one last look of disgust and focused on the meeting. "You think I'm stupid?" he continued, his eyes darting toward the new guy, who was now being introduced by Mr. Biodun.

I felt the familiar burn of tears prickling behind my eyes, tears I had promised myself I wouldn't shed again over this. My mistake was ever trying to fix a man who saw suspicion in sunshine and betrayal in a simple shared hallway. "...everyone, please welcome Mike ikechukwu, who will be joining our team temporarily," Mr. Biodun announced. He paused, looking around the room with a strange, almost nervous energy. "Mike is here to undergo a new orientation process and learn from us, so please take care of him and teach him well." Mike gave a brief, polite nod to the room. He didn't look like someone thrilled to be there. His face was composed, but beneath the professional demeanor, I saw that same clueless, eager energy I'd noticed earlier, only now mixed with a visible tension, the strain of someone trying to swallow their pride. Mr. Biodun cleared his throat and brought the room to attention. "Alright, let's get started. I'll be blunt, but funding for the May-June documentation project has been slashed. The company is currently not at its best state now and would like us to endure and try to cope." The mood in the room dropped instantly. "What do you mean 'slashed'? We've been working on that project for months." Mercy snapped. She didn't even let Mr. Biodun finish his sentence. Typical Mercy, lion of the department. First to roar, last to back down. The rest of us might grumble,hiss and sign quietly to avoid being queried, but not her. She'd set the whole office on fire if something didn't sit right with her. And honestly? I thank God for the type of person she is, if not we'd probably be tiptoeing around a broken system and eating shit sandwiches with fake smiles in this office. People say she's sleeping with Mr. Biodun. Of course, no one dares say it out loud, but it's in the way they look at each other. In this way he always lets her talk over him and never checks her when she steps out of line. It's like she's the untouchable, like she had leverage over him. Some say she got transferred here not because of her skills, but because she got too close to someone in upper management,and Mr. Biodun just "happened" to request her specifically. All I know is, nobody else in this office would dare raise their voice at him and still walk out with a smile and zero consequences. But hey, who am I to judge? If that's what it takes to get your voice heard around here, maybe she's not the fool, we are. "I mean," Mr. Biodun said carefully, "the budget has been cut significantly. We're expected to scale down." I finally took a long, much-needed breath and decided to say my mind. If I die, I die. I had put so much into this project, late nights, skipped lunches, and weekends blurred into weekdays. This wasn't just another task for me. It was supposed to be my moment. My chance to finally show HQ what I was capable of. To prove that I wasn't just some pretty face stuck in the least-valued office in the company. This project was supposed to be my ladder to that promotion. My way out of being overlooked. And now they were just... cutting it? No. Not without hearing from me. She's right," someone else chimed in. "We already used our own funds for printing and transportation last time. They keep saying 'temporary,' but it's every single time." "I'm sorry but this isn't fair, and it isn't just frustrating, it's disrespectful," my voice was calm but my heart was beating like a drum. "We're not interns. This is a full team running a core department. How are we supposed to function like this?" I wasn't yelling, but every word came out sharp. I could feel Caleb staring at me, probably wondering where I got the balls from. Mercy even leaned back in her seat a little, raising her brows like she was impressed, or amused. Mr. Biodun raised both hands. "Look, I'm not disagreeing with any of you. I'll escalate this, but for now, we need to hold off on the rest of the project until further instruction and If anyone has complaints, feel free to take it up with them directly. Send an email. March to their office. Scream at their doors, break down the walls of their offices if you want, I really don't care. But I'm not the one you should be pointing fingers at." Silence settled in the room, but it wasn't peaceful, it was the kind of silence that comes when everyone's biting back the urge to scream. "The meeting adjourned," he said finally. Chairs scraped. Files snapped shut. Everyone started filing out slowly, mumbling their frustrations. Caleb didn't move. He was still staring at me, lips tight and arms crossed. Yup. Definitely in for a long week. I grabbed my small handbag and moved to leave, but Caleb's voice low, menacing, stopped me. "So, that's your strategy now? Throwing a tantrum in a meeting?" he hissed. "Trying to play the hero for the new guy to notice you? Did you do all that just so Mike could see you fight for the team?" I stopped, turning back to face him fully. My previous calm had vanished, replaced by a cold, searing anger. "Are you hearing yourself? We just had our project budget butchered, and your biggest concern is what Mike thinks? Or what I think of him?" "I know what you're thinking," he sneered, finally rising from his seat. "The moment a new guy walks in who might actually have some money, you suddenly grow a spine for attention. You're predictable, Aida." I took a sharp step toward him, throwing caution completely out the window. "Predictable? You know what's predictable, Caleb ? You are. You're predictable in your relentless suspicion, predictable in your baseless jealousy, and predictable in always finding a way to make every professional crisis about your own insecure ego. Get over yourself." The silence in the room was now absolute. Several colleagues, including Mercy and a couple of others who had lingered, froze, pretending to adjust papers but clearly listening. Caleb's face went from sneering confidence to utter shock, then to a dangerous, low-burning fury. Before he could respond, a third voice broke the tension,a voice that was quiet, professional, and slightly weary. "Excuse me," Mike said, stepping away from the corner where he'd been quietly observing the spectacle.