The next morning came too early.

The alarm buzzed at six, cutting through the quiet hum of the ceiling fan. I opened my eyes, the light from the dawn spilling faintly through the curtains. My body felt heavy, like it hadn’t rested at all. The night had been long — too long — filled with thoughts I couldn’t escape.

Still, I forced myself up. Work was waiting.

After a quick shower, I tied my hair into a neat bun, dressed in a pale cream blouse and black skirt, then added light makeup to hide the tiredness under my eyes. I stood for a moment in front of the mirror, adjusting the collar of my blouse.

“You’ll be fine,” I whispered to my reflection. “Just focus.”

By the time I got to KNT headquarters, the city was already alive — cars honking, people rushing, phones ringing. The lobby smelled faintly of coffee and fresh polish, the kind of professional calm that usually helped me focus.

But that calm didn’t last long.

The moment I stepped into the design department, I could feel eyes on me. Whispers floated across the room, subtle but sharp.

“Alice, you’re early,” one of the interns, Clara, greeted cheerfully, though her eyes darted between me and another woman near the copier.

“Good morning,” I replied with a polite smile and set my bag on the desk.

A few minutes later, as I began sorting through my project notes, two colleagues — Mia and Mori — strolled over with their coffee cups, pretending to look at the sketches pinned to the board.

“You really outdid yourself on these,” Mia said. “Though I heard the director might make some… changes.”

Her tone was casual, but the meaning wasn’t lost on me.

I smiled faintly. “It’s fine. Improvements are part of the process.”

Mori chuckled softly. “You’re always so calm, Alice. If it were me, I’d be furious if someone changed my designs without asking.”

I ignored the jab and continued arranging my files.

But then Mia leaned closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “By the way, did you see yesterday’s article?”

I looked up. “What article?”

“The one about the Markston gala,” she said, eyes gleaming. “It had pictures of Mr. Vincent Markston and Ms. Lilian Blackwood. They looked stunning together. Like, really stunning. You’d think they were made for each other.”

Jenna nodded eagerly. “Honestly, they’d make the perfect couple. Power, looks, class — everything matches.”

The words hit harder than I expected. I tried to keep my face neutral, but my heart twisted painfully in my chest.

No wonder Lilian suddenly was at the Markston estate yesterday,they both went together like couples while I was sleeping in his office yesterday.

Trying to please him, trying to make things right.

Mia continued, clearly enjoying the conversation. “You met them before, right? I mean, you used to work closely with Mr. Markston. What’s she like in person? Ms Lilian Brookenly?”

“She’s…” I hesitated for a second, then forced a small smile. “Elegant. Very confident.”

They exchanged knowing looks. “Of course she is,” Jenna said with a smirk. “And she seems to really understand him — the director, I mean. They even left the event together last night. People were saying he’s finally letting someone in, I'm beginning to suspect she's his rumoured wife.”

I froze for a moment, but quickly busied myself with the stack of documents on my desk. “I see,” I said softly.

Mia tilted her head. “You okay, Alice? You look a little pale.”

“I’m fine,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt.

They lingered for a moment longer before shrugging and walking away, still chatting animatedly about the rumored couple.

As soon as they were gone, I exhaled slowly, pressing my fingers against my temples. My pulse thudded quietly in my ears.

Of course people would talk. Vincent was a public figure — handsome, powerful, and always in the media’s eyes. And Lilian… she was everything they wanted him to be with. Elegant, connected, beautiful.

But hearing it spoken aloud — in that tone, with that excitement — made the ache sharper.

Still, I reminded myself: “It’s just gossip.”

It shouldn’t matter.

It shouldn’t.

Just then, Vincent's Assistant walked into the room, holding a file. “ Ms Alice,” he called, breaking through my thoughts.

“Yes?”

“Director Vincent asked for the revised. presentation notes for today's design meeting. Do you have them ready?”

I nodded, gathering the papers. “Yes. I’ll send them to his office immediately.”

The Assistant gave a brief nod, but his gaze lingered on me for a second — as if he noticed something off. “You look tired,Ms Alice.” he said quietly.

“I’m fine,” I replied quickly. “Just a long night.”

He hesitated, then said, “By the way… don’t mind the talk around here. People always assume too much when it comes to the Markstons.”

I forced a small smile. “I know.”

After he left, I sat back for a moment, closing my eyes. The office noise faded — keyboards clicking, printers humming — but inside, my mind was anything but quiet.

I thought about last night — the way Vincent hadn’t looked at me once, the way he’d called me Ms. Alice as though I were just another employee.

And now, hearing people speak about him and Lilian as if they were already a couple… it hurt more than I wanted to admit.

But what choice did I have?

I couldn’t cry. Not here. Not in front of everyone who was waiting to see me fall.

So I opened my laptop, straightened my posture, and focused on the work.

If Vincent wanted distance, I’d give him that.

If he wanted to forget me, I’d make it easy for him.

But even as I tried to focus, my heart whispered something else — quiet, stubborn, and painful:

“You still care.”

I pushed that thought away and kept typing, pretending that the only thing that mattered was the next presentation.

Outside, the rain began to fall — soft, steady, and quiet, like the echo of everything I couldn’t say.