Disloyalty

- Cheryl -

I woke up feeling... different. Not the usual rush of dread or exhaustion that normally drags me out of bed. This morning, there was a rare sense of peace. 

I sat up, glancing at the clock. For once, I didn't have to sprint through my routine in a haze of panic. I felt well-rested, almost confident—a foreign sensation for me in the mornings.

Something had shifted, and I couldn't deny it. Yesterday had left its mark, a subtle but undeniable change in the air between Andrew and me. It wasn't monumental, barely even noticeable if I really thought about it, but still, something had clicked.

 It was like a crack had appeared in the wall I'd built around my feelings for him. A tiny, stubborn crack, but enough to make me question myself. Did I hate him a little less today? The very thought felt like betrayal. Of course, I still hated him—didn't I? That simmering tension between us, the years of rivalry, the constant power struggle... that wouldn't just evaporate, would it?

I shook off the thought, trying to make sense of how I felt. It wasn't about him, not really. It was about the situation, the mess we've found ourselves in. Maybe it was easier to navigate now. Maybe I could breathe a little easier when he was around.

I got ready with more care than usual, taking my time. Today, I actually made an effort—something I hadn't done in a while. I put away my cowboy boots after the blisters they'd left me with and slipped on a pair of loafers I found at the back of my wardrobe. Practical and polished, just like the version of myself I unusually wanted to project today.

The streets were quiet as I drove through the city, early enough that the rush hadn't started yet. I pulled into the parking lot at work, my mind still buzzing from the morning's strange, unfamiliar calm. 

Cheryl, as usual, didn't bother with a greeting, but Andrew's customary pile of files waited on my desk. Strangely, they didn't irritate me as much as they usually did.

Could things actually be becoming... bearable?

The thought hit me harder than I expected, almost making me question my own sanity. Was I seriously allowing myself to find this place less soul-crushing? Or was I simply being too good to myself, letting my guard down when I knew I shouldn't? That sliver of calm from earlier now felt like a double-edged sword.

 I almost wanted to retreat, to remind myself why I couldn't let my guard down around Andrew—or anyone here, for that matter.

Yet, as I sat at my desk, organizing the files and sipping my coffee, the day didn't seem quite as heavy. The looming dread that usually accompanied work was muted.

I worked my way through the sheets on my desk, tapping away at the keyboard, finishing a few things on my computer. It had been a productive morning—surprisingly so. I checked the clock. 11:30 AM. Time to hand the files over to Andrew.

I stood up, gathering the pile of documents. As I walked past Cheryl's desk, I noticed something odd—she wasn't there. Strange. She was always glued to her station like a watchdog. But I didn't dwell on it. She was probably in the bathroom, not really my concern.

The whole walk to Andrew's office felt different today, like something had shifted between us after everything that had happened during the team-building exercise. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but the usual dread that accompanied seeing him wasn't as sharp. Maybe he'd sensed it too—whatever it was. Maybe he wouldn't be his usual asshole self today.

I reached his office and didn't bother knocking. It wasn't like I'd ever knocked before. I pushed open the double doors, fully prepared for the standard stoic Andrew Graham, glaring at me from behind his perfectly organized desk.