TNN ONESHOTS

Constance was here - MK & RK & AMR & CV

Marjorie pried her eyes open, the dim morning light doing little to ease the throbbing behind her temples. She reached for her phone, the cold glass a stark contrast to the warmth of her bed. As she navigated to her contacts, a knot formed in her stomach. Mia. Just the name sent a shiver of dread down her spine.

Marjorie had been avoiding her all weekend, feigning a digital detox to escape the constant stream of emails and Slack messages. But now, Monday morning loomed, and Mia had made abundantly clear in a series of increasingly passive-aggressive messages that she had to up her game in the office. Marjorie knew she was in for a dressing-down, a meticulous dissection of every misstep and missed opportunity.

Swallowing her apprehension, Marjorie tapped the number and held the phone to her ear. Each ring felt like a countdown to a firing squad. When Mia's crisp, professional voice finally answered, Marjorie braced herself, ready to face the music, or rather, the meticulously orchestrated symphony of criticism that was about to begin. "Good morning, Mia," she said, the words tasting like ash in her mouth. The conversation that followed was exactly as she'd feared: a relentless barrage of blame and thinly veiled accusations. By the time she hung up, Marjorie felt like she'd run a marathon in stilettos, exhausted and defeated.

The phone's shrill ring cut through the morning's quiet like a knife. Mia's eyes darted to the caller ID, her lips pursing into a thin line as she recognized the number instantly. Without a moment's hesitation, she snatched the receiver, her voice sharp and impatient. "You are late. Where on earth are you?" she spat, the words laced with a venom that could curdle milk.

On the other end of the line, Marjorie tensed, her heart hammering against her ribs. This was her worst fear: letting people down. The guilt washed over her in a suffocating wave, threatening to drown her in its depths. "I-I'm not coming in today," she stammered, trying to project an air of confidence that she was far from feeling. But the way her voice cracked betrayed her, revealing the vulnerability she desperately tried to conceal.

Mia's response was immediate and scathing. "You better have a good reason for this!" she snapped, her voice dripping with disdain. "The amount of work that is yours that I have already picked up this week is ridiculous!" The accusation hung in the air, heavy and accusatory. Marjorie's stomach churned as she imagined Mia's exasperated expression, the roll of her eyes a silent condemnation. She knew she had messed up, that she had let her team down, and the weight of that realization threatened to crush her.

Tears welled in Marjorie's eyes, but she fought them back with every ounce of strength she possessed. "I will finish it when I am back in, but I'm not going to be in today. I can't Mia, I physically can't," she pleaded, her voice thick with emotion. The dam inside her was beginning to crack, and she knew it was only a matter of time before the floodgates opened. "My body is giving up on me, Mia. I need to take a break before I am forced to."

The words tumbled out, raw and desperate, as tears streamed down her cheeks. She lay back against the pillows, defeated, the weight of her exhaustion pressing down on her like a physical burden. She could hear Mia's sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line, but she couldn't bring herself to care. All she wanted was for the relentless pressure to ease, for her body to stop screaming in protest.

Mia's response was blunt, devoid of empathy. "Fine. Whatever, Marjorie. I better see you in the morning for your shift," she said, her tone dismissive before hanging up abruptly. The line went dead, leaving Marjorie alone with her tears and the crushing weight of her responsibilities. She knew she would be back in the office tomorrow, ready to face the mountain of work that awaited her, but for now, all she could do was succumb to the exhaustion that had finally caught up with her.

Once the line went dead, Marjorie allowed herself to feel. The tears and emotions she had held back all week finally surfaced, a torrent of pent-up frustration and hurt. Her mother's belittling words echoed in her mind, each insult a fresh wound. Veronica had left nothing unsaid, dissecting Marjorie's appearance, her home, her life choices with ruthless precision. The weight of her mother's disapproval settled heavily on Marjorie's shoulders, crushing her spirit.