𝐌𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐊 | f. w

13.

The next day at work, the usual hum of the office seemed louder, more intrusive. My desk was a mess of parchment, quills, and reports that demanded my attention, but I couldn't focus. Fred's words echoed in my mind, reverberating through every thought and action.

"I love you, Freya."

The unexpected confession had left me reeling, and the guilt of leaving Fred without an explanation gnawed at me. I glanced at the clock, watching the minutes tick by, each one a reminder of my avoidance. My eyes flitted to my pocket, where the letter from my father sat crumpled and hidden. The weight of both my father's threats and Fred's affection felt suffocating.

"Freya, are you even listening?"

I snapped back to reality, looking up to find Clara standing beside my desk, her arms crossed and an annoyed expression on her face.

"Sorry, what did you say?" I asked, trying to shake off the daze.

She sighed, her irritation melting into concern. "I said you have a meeting in ten minutes. Are you okay? You seem... distracted."

"Just tired," I lied, forcing a smile. "I'll be there."

She gave me a skeptical look but nodded and walked away. I took a deep breath, trying to compose myself. The office was bustling, people hurrying about with their own tasks, oblivious to my internal turmoil. I stood and gathered my notes, heading to the conference room.

The meeting was a blur of voices and ideas, but I couldn't concentrate. Every time I tried to focus on the discussion, my thoughts drifted back to Fred. The way his eyes had held such sincerity, the warmth of his touch, the ache in his voice when he said he loved me.

I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket and discreetly glanced at it. A message from Fred.

Fred: Hey. I hope you're okay. Can we talk?

I quickly put my phone away, the guilt intensifying. I couldn't deal with this now. Not here, not while I was supposed to be working. The meeting dragged on, and by the time it ended, I felt even more frazzled.

Back at my desk, I tried to bury myself in work, but the distraction was too great. My mind kept wandering, torn between the past and the present, between the fear of my father's threats and the confusion of Fred's confession.

Hours passed, and I barely made any progress. The pile of unfinished work seemed to grow larger, my thoughts more tangled. When my phone vibrated again, I didn't need to look to know it was Fred. My heart ached at the thought of him waiting for a response, wondering what he had done wrong.

"Freya, can you come to my office for a moment?"

I looked up to see Susan standing at my desk. Her expression was neutral, but I could sense the underlying concern.

"Of course," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady.

I followed her to her office, my stomach in knots. She gestured for me to sit, closing the door behind us.

"Is everything all right, Freya? You've seemed a bit off lately."

I swallowed hard, nodding. "Just some personal stuff. I'm sorry if it's affecting my work."

Susan leaned back in her chair, studying me. "I understand that everyone has their ups and downs, but if there's something you need to talk about or if you need some time off, we can arrange that."

Her offer was generous, and I felt a pang of gratitude. But taking time off wouldn't solve my problems. It would just give me more time to brood. "Thank you, but I think I just need to work through it."