Page 24 of Thorns That Bloom
I spend the rest of the day staring at my computer, wondering if I had overreacted. Wondering if he really was interested in me and why that made me so anxious. It was bound to happen at some point—another person looking at me inthatway. I just didn’t realize it would be so soon.
But he was nice about it. He didn’t seem too bothered. Maybe it wasn’t even disappointment that I thought I glimpsed in those blue eyes.
Either way, I know I can’t let that shake me. All my focus has to be at work, and the small consolation is that now, I canstop feeling guilty about the embarrassment in the restroom.
The way my body deals with pregnancy ebbs and flows.
There are days when I come to work and feel good; energized even. There are other times when my hormones and pheromones go completely crazy. On those days, I lock myself in the office, no matter the poor ventilation, and tell Kristoff to only come in if it’s something important.
At least my pregnancy is a good enough excuse for everyone else to tiptoe around me. It’s better than those strangers knowing how broken my psyche has been since it happened, and how much that has to do with my reactions to…everything. A constant reminder that those bastards affected my entire view of the world. I try not to think about it, because marinating in my own anger isn’t productive.
I save the file I’ve been working on for like an hour and finally close it. Done. I lean back with a sigh and momentarily shut my eyes because they’re burning. My head hurts. The hot flashes keep coming, though they’re not as bad today.
My OBGYN said that everything was fine the last time she checked me. The baby is healthy, I’m not missing anything, and all this is unfortunately just a normal part of omega pregnancy. Some people have it easy, others don’t. And of course, I have to be one of the ones who don’t.
Life always find ways to keep me on my damn toes…
Rubbing my forehead, I pull out my phone. No one really checks up on me—sometimes it feels like they forget I’m here—so I figure I can get away with another quick break.
I have an unread message from Mom. A picture of some flowers in her garden. Sending me photos of random stuff hasbeen the only way she’s tried to stay in touch, and I guess I can’t blame her, because she’s at least doingsomething.
I never know how to respond, what to say. My life isn’t interesting, and I don’t want all my conversations with her to be me complaining.
Staring at it for a moment, I decide to react with a thumbs-up emoji. Resting my phone over the edge of the table, I lean back and swipe out of our message thread to the inbox. There are a few other messages there I’ve been ignoring. Marked with ‘read’ from weeks or months ago.
Mostly people from my old workplace asking me how I’m doing. I can’t bring myself to respond, to even venture back into that reality I’ve been trying to erase. None of them were real friends, anyway. Coworkers. Acquaintances at best.
And I can’t get rid of the feeling that all they’re doing is fishing for information, for the spicy gossip they can spread in the office about the slutty omega who somehow seduced all those poor alphas and then caused so much trouble for them. After all, how could all those lovely gentlemen do something like that? I must have been lying. That’s what people whispered about. That’s what they were all thinking.
Maybe not all. But I couldn’t take being there and feeling like they were.
Gulping, I glance down at my stomach before looking around the room to remember where I am. Far,faraway from all that. I remind myself how happy I am to be here. Remind myself that I’m safe.
You don’t have to think about all that. And you shouldn’t.
As a wave of heat, followed by a shiver, passes over me, I set my phone aside and shift uncomfortably in my chair. Ifonly I could take a suppressant to help with this nonsense. The doctor gave me some in case it gets really uncomfortable for me, but she also encouraged me not to use them too often, for the baby’s safety.
I’ve already put them through enough.
Smiling softly, I look down. The little one is a fighter, but I just want them to be happy and safe. So I’ll have to push through. I can’t take more time off, or keep slacking because of my condition. I’m just some transfer. I need to prove myself instead of constantly being a burden. There’s only so far the favor from the agreement will take me. Especially if I want to work here long term.
The knock on the door startles me. With a sharp blink, I look up, my insides twisting.
“Y-yes?” I shout, straightening my back so I can see over my monitor.
When the door’s closed, this little room almost feels like its own universe. Dingy but quiet. Distant. I barely hear voices or steps outside of it. Dozens, hundreds of people in the building, and I can exist in peace.Until now.
Instead of a response, the door slowly opens, sending a weird sense of danger through me. Like someone’s entering my safe space. Pressing my lips into a tight line and swallowing the lump in my throat, I remind myself that this is a damn office and anyone can come and go as they please.
Yvana, an older woman from Design, pokes her head in, curly strands of shoulder-length hair falling ahead of her face. “Sorry to bother you, but can I poke around in your drawers? Something I need to get,” she says.
Without waiting for my response, she walks in. I guess shetakes my exasperated silence as a yes.Lovely.
Not wanting to make waves, I force a polite smile on my lips and ignore how much her rudeness annoys me. She rushes to me, heels clacking against the floor, so I move away from the table. She bends down, rummaging through the drawers.
“This used to be where I worked sometimes when I had bad migraines,” she mutters, almost like she’s just talking to herself. “Before…you know, they put you here.” I can’t tell whether she sounds annoyed or if it’s just in my head.
To be fair, everything looked like it had sat here for a good while when I first came. Clearly, not even cleaners came around often, so I had to do a lot of wiping and dusting, otherwise I would’ve probably choked on all the grime. The drawers were full of random shit, but I tried to only throw away the actual trash.
