The air in Vincent’s office felt heavier than usual.

I stepped in quietly, clutching the file to my chest. Just like yesterday, the room wasn’t empty — he was in a meeting again, sitting across from two directors and his assistant, discussing numbers and figures in that deep, calm tone of his.

Their voices filled the air, confident and controlled. I stood still by the door, bowing slightly.

“Good morning, Director Markston,” I said politely, keeping my head low.

Vincent didn’t even glance at me. His eyes were fixed on the chart displayed on the projector. The board members noticed me and gave a faint nod before continuing their discussion.

I turned quietly, about to step out, but his voice stopped me.

“There’s no need to leave,” he said without looking up. “Just wait until we’re done.”

So, I stood — again — waiting patiently, hands clasped tightly in front of me. The air conditioner hummed softly, but time felt painfully slow. My legs began to ache, but I didn’t dare move.

Almost an hour passed before they finally concluded.

“Excellent presentation, Director Markston,” one of the men said, gathering his notes. “The direction you’ve chosen will definitely strengthen KNT’s image in the market.”

Vincent simply nodded, his expression calm but distant. “Make sure the adjustments are implemented by tomorrow.”

Once the men left, silence filled the office again.

I exhaled slowly and stepped forward. “Sir, this is the final report on the Nightingale project,” I said softly, placing the document on his desk.

He reached for it without a word, scanning through each page. His brows furrowed slightly, then he closed the file and tossed it back onto the desk.

“Change it,” he said.

I blinked, confused. “Sir?”

“The concept. It’s not suitable for the auction theme. Redesign it.”

I pressed my lips together. “Alright, sir. I’ll change it immediately.”

“Make sure it’s on my desk within four hours,” he added flatly, picking up his pen again. “You may leave.”

I hesitated, biting back the words sitting on my tongue. But I only nodded. “Yes, sir.”

He didn’t look up again. I quietly turned and left the room.

Back at my department, I sank into my chair, taking a deep breath. My fingers trembled slightly as I opened the file again. Every single day since I returned had been like this — cold words, longer hours, and this unshakable feeling that Vincent was punishing me silently.

Still, I worked. I redrafted, edited, and restructured everything with precision. By the time I was halfway through, my head was pounding, but I refused to stop.

Halfway into the day, I stood to grab some water, but the head of my department stopped me at the door.

“Alice,” he called, waving a pile of papers. “Deliver these to the accounts office, please. They need them urgently.”

I wanted to protest, to say I was still working on the auction proposal, but I simply nodded and took the stack. “Yes, sir.”

By the time I returned, another task was already waiting on my desk. It felt like everyone had suddenly remembered I existed — and decided I was the perfect errand runner.

Still, I swallowed my pride. I kept working.

When I finally handed the corrected auction report to Vincent’s assistant, I felt a tiny bit of relief. “Please, give this to Director Markston,” I said, smiling faintly.

The assistant nodded. “Of course, Ms. Alice. I’ll deliver it right away.”

The moment he left, I leaned back in my seat, rubbing my temples. The office buzzed softly with the sound of printers and muffled chatter.

Across the room, a few of my colleagues were talking. I didn’t mean to listen, but their voices were too close.

“Did you see Miss Lilian’s post just now ?” one whispered. “She and Director Markston are attending the charity gala together.”

“They really look perfect,” another replied. “Like a true power couple.”

My chest tightened.

“Yeah, and now that Alice’s back,” a third voice added in a lower tone, “it must be awkward. Imagine working with your ex-boss after all that drama.”

“Didn’t she get dismissed because she tried to—”

“Shh!” the first one hissed. “You’ll get in trouble for gossiping!”

I lowered my gaze, pretending not to hear. My hands clenched under the table, my knuckles pale. I wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction of seeing me react.

I took a deep breath and turned back to my computer, focusing on the blinking cursor.

Work. Just focus on work.

Time crawled by until the office clock finally struck closing hour. I packed up my things slowly, feeling drained but relieved.

When I stepped out of the building, I saw Vincent’s car parked by the curb again. For a second, my heart lifted. Maybe—

But before I could wave, his car engine started, and he drove off — straight past me, without a glance.

The same sharp sting hit my chest again.

I stopped walking, staring after his car until it disappeared down the road. Around me, the sky had dimmed, heavy clouds gathering overhead.

“Of course,” I whispered, smiling bitterly. “Why would I expect anything different?”

A few drops of rain fell on my hand. I looked up. “Oh no… I didn’t bring an umbrella.”

I hugged my bag close and sighed, feeling the exhaustion sink into my bones. It wasn’t just the weather — it was everything.

The work. The whispers. The coldness.

Still, I refused to break.

Straightening my shoulders, I walked toward the street, raising a hand to flag down a cab. The rain started to fall harder, but I didn’t stop.

Because even if Vincent chose to pretend I didn’t exist, I was still here. Still working. Still standing.

And somehow, I told myself that I had to count for something.