The day I’d been waiting for.

My first day as a writing intern.

I could hardly believe it was happening- me, finally walking into a proper office. I’d never had a white-collar job before; my writing had always been behind a screen, in pajamas, fueled by caffeine. But today felt… different. It felt like a clean slate.

I wore a crisp striped shirt tucked into a trendy pencil skirt, paired with nude pumps that gave me just the right height of confidence. My hair was pinned neatly, and a soft red gloss added a subtle glow to my lips.

I paused in front of my mirror, taking a long look at the woman staring back. There was something new in her eyes, determination. Fire. I smiled.

“I’m proud of you,” I whispered to my reflection before grabbing my bag and heading out.

The ride to Voss Publishing was smooth. The city looked softer somehow, like it was cheering me on. When I finally stepped out of the taxi in front of the towering glass building, I had to take a deep breath.

Okay, Aria. This is it.

The moment I entered, the receptionist, the same one who gave me a death stare last week, actually smiled this time.

“Good morning, Miss Aria,” she said brightly. “Welcome. Your office is on the second floor, the third door to your right. You’ll be meeting your Head of Department there.”

I thanked her and made my way upstairs, my heels clicking against the polished tiles in an oddly satisfying rhythm.

When I reached the office, I found a gorgeous woman seated behind a desk- elegant, poised, and probably in her late thirties. Her hair was styled into a perfect bun, and her expression was firm yet not unkind.

“Good morning, ma’am,” I greeted softly.

She looked up from her laptop, gave me a once-over, and nodded approvingly. “You must be the new intern. I’m Mrs. Adans, Head of Creative Development.” Her voice was smooth, calm- the kind of tone that carried authority without needing to shout.

“Yes, ma’am,” I replied, trying not to fidget.

She stood, gesturing to a small cubicle near the window. “That will be your workspace. You’ll report directly to me for now. Office hours are eight to four. We value punctuality, originality, and discretion here. Don’t submit anything you haven’t proofread twice. Understood?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good,” she said, her lips twitching into the faintest smile. “Now, I’ll have one of your senior colleagues take you around the floor so you can get familiar with the departments- editorial, marketing, and publishing.”

A few moments later, a friendly woman in a floral blouse introduced herself as Clara. She showed me around, the lively editorial corner where writers debated plots like their lives depended on it, the design department with screens full of colorful book covers, and the marketing section where someone was ranting about analytics.

Everything smelled like paper, ink, and ambition.

After the tour, Clara handed me a small stack of manuscripts. “These are sample submissions. Read through them and jot down your honest impressions. Don’t worry, we just want to see your thought process.”

By the time I was done reading and scribbling notes, my eyes were heavy and my brain felt like mashed potatoes. I leaned back on my chair, stretched, and realized the entire floor had gone quiet.

A quick glance at the clock told me why. It was lunch time.

And for the first time that day, I allowed myself to exhale and smile.

Day one, partially survived.

As I didn’t pack my lunch today, and because the cafeteria menu looked like a crime scene (green peas, chicken curry sauce, and sushi… seriously, who comes up with that?), I decided to take a quick walk to the nearest McDonald’s, just a stone’s throw from the office.

I was halfway through placing my order when the air shifted, the kind of shift that announces trouble before you even turn around.

Then I saw her.

An abomination in human form.

Someone whose very presence could ruin an otherwise decent day.

Chrissy.

She waltzed up to my side, her red high-slit gown practically screaming for attention, heels clicking with all the confidence in the world, and her wavy brown hair bouncing like it was getting paid to move.

And of course, she opened her mouth.

“Ohh, if this isn’t Aria,” she said, using that stupid soft, feminine voice she always reserves for when it’s just me, her, and my ex, Ethan. “Oh yeah, I’m right. How are you doing? Haven’t met you since…” she leaned in, lowering her tone, “…since I slept with your man—or should I say, your ex boyfriend?”

She smirked. “I gave him things you couldn’t give him.”

I turned slowly, smiled sweetly, and tilted my head. “Oh, you mean headaches? Yeah, that tracks.”

Her smile froze for half a second, but she quickly recovered. “Still pretending you’re unbothered, huh? You always were so good at acting like you were better than everyone.”

“Better?” I let out a small laugh. “No, not better. Just… busier. Some of us have jobs to get to.”

Her expression shifted. “Jobs?” she repeated, glancing me up and down. “At least I don’t waste my time working like a slave for peanuts.”

“Oh, you’re right,” I said, leaning a little closer, my tone still calm but every word landing like a slap. “You don’t work at all. You just sleep your way into temporary comfort. I prefer earning my peace, it lasts longer.”

A few people in the line turned slightly, pretending to mind their business but clearly eavesdropping. Chrissy’s cheeks flushed pink.

She scoffed. “You think working makes you better than me?”

I smiled again. “No. Character does that.”

Then my order came, perfect timing. I grabbed the bag and gave her one last look. “Anyway, Chrissy, it’s been fun chatting, but unlike you, I actually have somewhere to be.”

Her jaw tightened. “You’re such a—”

“—success story?” I finished for her, grinning. “Yeah, I know. Tough to swallow, right?”

Then I turned and walked out, heels clicking against the tiled floor, leaving her standing there in her red gown and fading dignity.

Behind me, I heard someone chuckle under their breath.

And for the first time in my life, my lunch break felt worth it.

I hummed softly as I made my way back to the office, fries in one hand, iced drink in the other. The short walk helped me shake off the irritation of running into Chrissy.

By the time I got to my desk, I’d already tucked that little drama neatly at the back of my mind.

As soon as I sat down, a familiar voice piped up beside me.