The Affair

Chapter 21.4

Friday, July 22, 2022, 12:17pm

The workday carries on like any other. The patter of fingers against hard plastic keys hover in the air, occasional tones of ringing phones, soft murmurs of colleagues speaking, and the whirring of mechanics from the copier.

Amy grabs her boba and sips, grimacing at the awkward clash of flavors she had gotten just to spite Fallon. The ice rustles as she sets it away, her focus returning to her work. A stack of patents sits to her right, each one requiring her meticulous attention as a proofreader. It's a pain-staking process, but one in which Amy is well-versed.

Her eyes examine the final line, and she tosses away her pen at the end. Groaning, she leans back in her chair, rubbing her strained eyes. She's finished the hard part, but now each one needed to be prepped for shipping.

She rises, stretching out her back and shoulders, huffing as a small pop leaves her spine. Off to the side is Fallon's empty chair. Huffing once more, she shakes her head as she gathers the stack of patents.

"Stupid bitch..." she mutters.

But just as she leaves her cubicle her phone vibrates atop her desk. She snatches it in an instant, a light squeal slipping as Dylan's name glows across the screen.

Dylan (text): I'm sorry Amy. I had to do it. Please call me when you can.

Amy's head tilts, curiosity sparking at his cryptic message. She looks around, sensing a subtle shift in the atmosphere. Still, she had received something from him, and that's enough to make her smile.

Meanwhile, an elevator is on its way up. Inside is June, arms crossed as she paces the small area. She thrashes suddenly, as if shaking off a clinging spiderweb, followed by a brief shout.

The elevator climbs higher, slowing now as red LED numbers climb closer to 38. Her hands rise to her hair on impulse, raking through her soft curls. A few deep breaths return her composure, but it's only a facade.

Ding! The elevator doors slide open.

She's out in an instant. Her palm beats against a glass door, sending it swinging open as she steps foot inside the firm. Rebecca sees the lovely woman she knows well—Mr. Reiner's wife—and greets her with a friendly hello. But June struts past without even a glance.

She cuts the corner. The brown door to her husband's office is straight ahead about 10 yards. She locks in, tunneling out the wall to her left and the spread of cubicles at her right.

Ahead, Amy mumbles a curse as she rounds the corner. She steps into June's path, noticing her death stare right away.

"Oh fuck... Dylan, what did you do?"

Amy steps in June's line, a temporary blockade, but one nonetheless.

"Hey, June. What brings you here?" Amy stammers, bunching the stack at her hip to wave.

June stops a couple of feet from her. Her gaze narrows on Amy, noticing the subtleties: the nervous grin, a crease near her brow, and the awkward wave. She says nothing at first but takes slow, encroaching steps, cutting the space between them until uncomfortably close.

Amy back steps, her stiff smile flattening into something telling. Meeting her eyes is painful, June's stare full of fire so hot it bites at each iris. She gulps under the silent scrutiny, turning her head barely an inch so her eyes could jump at the edges.

June sees it. Her posture straightens, lengthening her already looming figure.

"She's in there... Isn't she?" June asks.