Deviant Love

17 - HER

[Chapter 17]

In the hope that my eyes didn't scream "emotional wreck," I scrutinized my reflection. I had attempted the cold spoon trick that morning to minimize the redness, but my eyes remained the remnants of a recent sob-fest.

With a theatrical sigh, I sashayed over to my new desk—a sprawling space that practically begged for a dramatic twirl. The promotion came with a cherry on top in the form of my very own cabin.

As I settled in, I could almost hear the mental gears of my colleagues whirring into overdrive. Oh, joy. I empathized. Really—I was just your average Joe, with no special skills except for being the boss's ex.

Cue the awkward reality check. I felt like a nepotism baby, born into the lap of office luxury. The special treatment for the boss's ex-lover—how endearing. The cabin, clearly reserved for someone more deserving, now had my nameplate.

I couldn't help but feel like I had won a twisted lottery, potentially ruining someone else's shot at a corner office with this abrupt turn of events.

Gosh, the guilt was practically tap-dancing inside me. I could almost hear it doing a routine. Bravo. I wanted to cry again. When did I become such a crybaby?

"Good morning," the annoying voice chirped, like a wake-up call from the universe's most irritating alarm clock.

"Fuck off, Roman," I sighed, logging into the system to start my work.

"That feels like a great morning," Roman quipped, pulling a chair and unceremoniously plunking beside me.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Work something that you don't do." I snapped.

"Ouch," he clutched his heart theatrically. "Who pissed in your cereal today?"

"Your lovely friend."

"Of course," he mumbled, scratching his chin. "Always suspected he moonlighted as a cereal saboteur. A true mystery, that one."

"Oh, absolutely," I replied, my tone laden with sarcasm. "The enigma wrapped in a riddle, disguised as a morning menace."

Roman leaned back, still wearing an amused grin. "He is not that bad."

I raised an eyebrow, shooting him a look that said, 'Really?' "Your sweet office mate. The one with the subtlety of a sledgehammer and the people skills of a cactus."

He chuckled. "Ah, him. A true delight. Did he sprinkle a dash of passive-aggression on your Cheerios?"

"More like dumped the entire salt shaker," I quipped, my mood lightening a fraction.

Roman feigned shock, hand over his heart again. "The audacity! I'll have a stern talking-to with him."

"Please, spare me the heroics," I scoffed, returning my attention to the computer screen. "I can handle my battles, thank you very much."

He leaned in closer, his voice low and conspiratorial. "But where's the fun in that? Besides, it's always entertaining to watch someone else wage war."

I looked at him skeptically. "What are you up to?"

He shrugged. "He pulled a dick move leaving you, and now he shamelessly strolls back into your life."

I sighed, my frustration growing. "Roman, what's with this sudden protective streak? A minute ago, you were practically his cheerleader."

He leaned back, his expression shifting to a more serious tone. "Look, Daisy, I get it. You have history, and maybe there's still something there. But I also see how he hurt you, how he left without a word. It's not fucking fair for him to just waltz back in like nothing happened."

Roman's expression softened. "Daisy, I want you to be happy. But not at the cost of letting him off the hook easily. If you ever give him another chance, make him work for it. Make him understand what he put you through. He deserves every second of it."

I raised an eyebrow. "And if I don't want him in my life anymore?"

"That's not going to happen, babe. We both know it," he said with an air of certainty as if he held the script to the future.

I glared at him. He laughed it off.

"Leave. I need to work," I asserted, gently pushing Roman aside. "Ok, ok, geez, I am leaving, don't push me," he pouted, finally retreating.

After a moment, he unexpectedly turned around, enveloping me in a hug. "I missed you."

Then, as swiftly as he appeared, he bolted towards the door, leaving me with conflicting emotions.

Three hours into the grind, after analyzing data, working on Excel, and compiling a report for the team, I decided to take a break and scroll through my phone. Reels, app updates, and then a news notification caught my eye.

A horrifying murder had occurred in my neighborhood. Wincing, I read through the article, which described the victim's dismembered body, with certain limbs and other private body parts inexplicably absent.

The remains were disturbingly arranged, almost like a twisted art, leaving an unsettling scene for anyone who stumbled upon it.

What a psychopath.

The gruesome discovery took near the alley of my beloved doughnut shop, and curiosity propelled me to read further. To my unsettling surprise, a face with a certain familiarity stared back from the pages.

Wait, where had I seen this guy?

I furrowed my brows, pondering for a few seconds before it clicked; this was the same guy I had danced with a few days ago—the one Alex threw across the room.

A shiver ran down my spine. Could he be the one behind this gruesome act? It felt implausible. Yes, he had a temper, but the leap from anger issues to cold-blooded murder seemed inconceivable. I believed I knew him better than that.

Yet, people change.

The unsettling thought lingered. What if he was capable of such brutality?

"No. It's impossible," I muttered, attempting to dispel the rising doubts. I clung to the conviction that he couldn't be responsible for a heinous crime.

But doubts festered like shadows creeping into the recesses of my certainty.

I pushed the dreary thoughts aside, convincing myself it was a coincidence.

Back to work, I was oblivious to a pair of eyes discreetly watching me from the shadows.

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