The Other Woman |Charlie Barber x Reader|

~Mr. Barber~

The reflection staring back at you in the mirror looks horrified; sickly, even. You stand in the bathroom within your office floor, gripping onto the porcelain sink for dear life. God, you felt as though you were going to puke all over the floor. The moment that man had walked into the door, you felt this awful nausea coming over you. As unprofessional as it was, you were quick to momentarily excuse yourself.

The fluorescent lighting of the bathroom casts a sickly glow over your skin, giving you an appearance that went hand in hand with your panicked mental state. Desperately and more forcefully than you should have done it, you yank on the faucet lever. A strong gush of water splashes against the dry curves of the basin. You cup your hands beneath the stream, bending over the counter to splash the cold into your heated face.

Since this bathroom was designed specifically for employees, it had been stocked with actual cloth towels instead of the shitty brown paper that practically disintegrated in water. You bury your face in a clean towel, scrubbing at your skin until it is practically raw. As you peer back into the mirror, you are almost disgusted to see your reflection staring back at you.

You had slept with a married man. A married man who had a child. A married man who failed to tell you that he was married in the first place. Someone who had lied to you. Someone who had betrayed your trust in the short while you had known them. How could he have done this? How could he sleep at night? How could you sleep at night?

Overwhelmed by all of these unpleasant cascading thoughts, you force yourself to take a couple of deep breaths. This isn't my fault. You try to repeat these words in your head over and over like a mantra, though it wasn't working entirely well. Today, it seemed your brain had decided to make you a pure pessimist. You close your eyes, jaw tensed and stiff while you attempt to rationalize.

They would understand why you had reacted this way if they knew the truth... right? Oh, who were you kidding? Of course Nicole Barber would understand that you felt like vomiting because you had slept with her husband. Such a pleasant woman. So caring and understanding and-

"Ugh!" You clasp your cold hands over your eyes, digging in the heel of your palm until you were seeing colors behind your closed lids.

You wanted to believe that it hadn't happened. That this was all some kind of fever dream; a sick prank that Mai or Ophelia or even Daphne was playing on you. But the truth was, that a few doors down, a man and woman sat together whose lives you could have potentially ruined. Perhaps he wasn't married when you slept with him, you tell yourself, but Nicole had confirmed how many years they had been together.

The gods certainly had a funny way of punishing you for taking part in infidelity. Albeit, a scandal you didn't know about, but a scandal nevertheless.

Still, you had a job to do. They had paid you to save their marriage and that was what you were hired to do. Despite your feelings, despite your history with these clients, and despite everything else. All you had to do was survive for another hour or so.

You look into the mirror one last time, trying your best to reassure yourself that you weren't purposely being a homewrecker, before pushing away from the sink and shutting the bathroom door behind you. As you pass by the front desk, Mai's concerned eyes meet yours. She had never seen you like this; so clammy and choked up all of a sudden. The most you can do now is give her a small look of reassurance that really wasn't as helpful as intended.

The silver handle to your office door gleams maliciously in front of you. Its cold metal seems to sear at your skin as you wrap your sweaty hand around it. You take a deep breath, willing yourself to turn your 'professional voice' back on. Like someone had switched a flip on your back, your face lights up again.