49.

Alina woke up to the pale morning light filtering through the curtains, the warmth of Caelan's coat still wrapped around her. She blinked against the sleep weighing on her lashes, the quiet stillness of the mansion wrapping around her like a forgotten dream. For a fleeting moment, she wondered if last night had been real—if Caelan had really been there, watching over her in the silence of the night.

But she had no time to dwell on it.

Shaking off the lingering haze of sleep, Alina pushed herself up, rubbing at her eyes before glancing at the clock. A jolt of realization coursed through her—she was running late.

Scrambling out of the couch, she quickly rushed towards her condo and freshened up and changed into a crisp blouse and a simple black skirt, pulling her hair into a neat ponytail.

With a hurried gulp of coffee, she grabbed her bag and rushed out of her condo, her mind already shifting into work mode. The walk to the office was brisk, the city waking up around her, but something in the air felt… off. An inexplicable weight settled in her chest, a sense of unease she couldn’t quite place.

Brushing it off as exhaustion, she stepped into the towering office building where she worked as a translator. She moved past the sleek glass doors, greeting a few colleagues with a polite nod before making her way to her desk. But the moment she settled in, her name was called—sharp and impatient.

“Alina! My office. Now.”

The voice belonged to Ms. Davenport, her manager. The woman stood near the hallway, her arms crossed, an unmistakable edge to her tone. Alina swallowed, pushing back the sudden knot in her stomach, and quickly made her way to the office.

The moment she stepped inside, Ms. Davenport slammed a thick stack of papers onto the desk.

“What is this?” she demanded, her perfectly manicured nails tapping against the printed pages.

Alina frowned, stepping closer. It was her latest batch of translations.

“I—”

“These are unacceptable,” Ms. Davenport snapped before Alina could even defend herself.

“Did you even read the guidelines? Half of these chapters don’t align with the publisher’s requirements. The phrasing is off, the tone is inconsistent, and your attention to detail is… disappointing.”

Alina’s stomach twisted at the cold accusation. She had spent hours on those translations, making sure every line carried the essence of the original work.

“I followed the guidelines,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. “If there’s a mistake, I can—”

“No excuses,” Ms. Davenport cut her off.

“Redo them. All of them. And I expect perfection this time.”

Alina nodded stiffly, biting back the words that threatened to rise in her defense. She knew there was no point arguing. Taking the marked-up documents, she walked back to her desk, each step feeling heavier than the last.

The first wave of humiliation settled in as she sat down, the whispering of her coworkers barely concealed.

“She really got chewed out.”

“Figures. She’s too quiet to stand up for herself.”

Alina inhaled sharply, forcing herself to block out the voices. She wasn’t new to criticism, this job required thick skin, but something about the way Ms. Davenport had torn into her felt… different. More pointed.

And as the day dragged on, it didn’t stop there.

By lunchtime, Ms. Davenport had found another issue, this time with a report Alina hadn’t even worked on. Still, she was the one called out, forced to take the blame while her actual coworkers stayed silent.

Then came the unexpected “urgent” meeting she wasn’t informed about, the sudden changes to her workload that no one else seemed to receive.

It wasn’t just one mistake being punished.

It was her.

As she sat at her desk, fatigue weighing down on her, Alina realized something with a sinking heart.

This wasn’t just harsh feedback.

This was the beginning of something much worse.

Alina trudged home, exhaustion pressing down on her like a heavy weight. Her body ached from the long hours at work, and her mind reeled from the relentless scrutiny of Ms. Davenport. No matter how much effort she put into her translations, it was never enough. Each revision demanded more, each correction a thinly veiled insult. The day had drained her completely.

Stepping into her small apartment, she kicked off her shoes and let her bag slump onto the floor. A deep sigh escaped her lips as she leaned against the door, closing her eyes for a brief moment. The silence of her home was both a relief and a reminder of her solitude. The walls offered no comfort, no encouragement—just an empty space that echoed her exhaustion.

She knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep like this, her mind still running circles around the day’s events. The thought of staying cooped up inside, stewing in frustration, felt unbearable. A walk might help, she decided. The nearest garden wasn’t far, and maybe the crisp evening air could clear her thoughts.

Without overthinking it, she changed into a loose cardigan, slipped on her flats, and grabbed her keys. The streets were quiet, the sky a deep shade of indigo as the city lights flickered to life. The garden was just a few blocks away, a small oasis amidst the concrete. It wasn’t grand, but it had a certain charm—a cluster of trees, a few winding paths, and a quiet bench tucked away in the corner. It was her refuge.

As she entered the garden, the cool night breeze kissed her skin, and the tension in her shoulders eased slightly. She walked along the path, her hands tucked into her pockets, letting her thoughts unravel with each step.

Why was Ms. Davenport so harsh on her? Was it just her, or was everyone subjected to this level of criticism? Alina had always prided herself on her work, on her ability to meet deadlines and exceed expectations. But in that office, it felt like nothing she did was ever enough.

She sighed, stopping by a bench beneath a lamppost. Sitting down, she gazed at the distant lights of the city skyline. This wasn’t what she had imagined for herself. She had always dreamed of being an author, of crafting worlds with her words. Yet here she was, drowning in revisions for someone else’s work, being torn down instead of built up.

A flicker of doubt crept into her mind. Was this even worth it? Was she strong enough to endure this?

Lost in thought, she barely noticed the figure approaching until a shadow stretched across the ground before her. Startled, she looked up.