Beauty Lies Within

⌘ III. Every Rose Has Its Thorn ⌘

The coming days passed by in a blur. Gina hadn't spoken to Emily since their argument, and the silence weighed heavily on her chest. She missed her friend more than she wanted to admit, even if she tried to convince herself that the solitude didn't bother her. But it did. A lot.

Without her, the office felt colder, more isolating. Emily spent her time diving into work, trying to keep herself busy, but no matter how many emails she sent or drafts she reviewed, the absence of her friend was a constant reminder that something was missing. Gina had been her one true ally in this corporate jungle, the person who could pull her out of her anxiety, who made work not just tolerable but enjoyable. 

And yet, Sam was always there, in the periphery of her day. Whether it was a smile in passing or a friendly nod when they bumped into each other in the break room, he made an effort. Sometimes he'd ask about her day or mention something about the campaign they were working on. Their interactions were light, professional, but the way his eyes lingered just a little longer than necessary made her heart race. He made her feel noticed, something she wasn't used to, especially now that Gina was keeping her distance. 

✤

As Friday came around, the office was bustling with the familiar energy that came with the end of the week. Most of the team had gone out for lunch together, leaving Emily alone at her desk. She hadn't been invited—not that she expected to be, not since Gina had thrown in with the others. Still, it stung.

Emily glanced down at the sad-looking salad she'd been picking at for the past half-hour. She wasn't hungry, not really, but she needed to pass time somehow. She stabbed her fork into the lettuce, sighing softly.

The sound of footsteps pulled her from her thoughts. She looked up just as Gina came into view, a hesitant expression on her face. She had just returned from lunch with the others, her laughter still echoing down the hall. Emily quickly dropped her gaze back to her salad, trying to ignore the pang of loneliness that gnawed at her.

"Hey," Gina's voice was soft, uncertain.

Emily's heart clenched, but she didn't immediately respond. Instead, she took a deliberate bite of her salad and forced herself to chew slowly, as if she hadn't heard her. After a beat, she looked up, her expression guarded.

"Hey," she finally said, her tone neutral.

Gina lingered by her desk, her hands fidgeting as if she didn't quite know what to do with them. The silence between them was thick, uncomfortable.

"You, uh, didn't come to lunch," Gina said, her voice casual but her eyes betraying her concern.

"I wasn't really hungry," Emily lied, dropping her fork back into the container with a sigh. "Besides, I had some stuff to finish."

Gina didn't respond immediately, and for a moment, Emily thought she might just walk away. But instead, Gina pulled out the chair from the cubicle next to her and sat down, folding her hands in her lap.

"Emily... I'm sorry," she said, her voice quiet but sincere.

Emily blinked, surprised. She hadn't expected an apology, not after the way Gina had stormed off earlier that week. She looked at her friend, trying to gauge whether she was being genuine.

"I've been thinking about what happened," Gina continued, her gaze focused on her hands. "And I realize I was a jerk. I shouldn't have gotten mad at you like that."

Emily raised an eyebrow, skeptical. "Then why did you?"

Gina sighed, leaning back in the chair. "Because I care about you. And I hate seeing you like this, stuck in this cycle of worry and self-doubt. You're constantly holding yourself back, Em. From living, from enjoying life. I just... I got frustrated. I know you've been through a lot, but I want you to stop surviving and start living. You deserve more than just getting by."