A raw ache pulsed behind Clara's eyes. Each blink was a small, painful effort. She gripped the cold metal railing of the elevator, her knuckles white, barely registering the ascent.
Sleep had been a luxury she couldn't afford. Hours blurred into a night spent by Lily's bedside, listening to the rhythmic hiss of the ventilator, the constant beeping of machines. Fear gnawed at her, a constant, bitter taste.
Her uniform felt heavy, scratchy against her skin. She'd managed to shower, to force down a piece of toast, but nothing erased the bone-deep exhaustion.
Stepping out, the familiar hum of the executive floor hit her. She navigated the polished hallway like a ghost, her movements sluggish. Even the crisp morning air from the vents felt too sharp.
Mr. Sterling’s office door stood slightly ajar. A sliver of light, a premonition of another grueling day, seeped out.
She moved to her desk, dropping her bag with a soft thud. The sound seemed deafening in the otherwise silent corridor.
Her fingers fumbled with the keyboard. Emails piled up, reports awaited printing, calls needed returning. The sheer volume of work felt insurmountable.
Concentration was a cruel joke. Her eyes kept drifting to the framed photo of Lily on her desk, a bright, mischievous smile frozen in time. Tears pricked her eyelids, threatening to spill.
Taking a shaky breath, Clara forced herself to focus on the first task: organizing Mr. Sterling's meeting schedule. Her head pounded.
Minutes later, Sterling's door opened fully. His presence was, as always, a commanding force. He strode out, a crisp suit perfectly tailored, his expression a familiar mask of intense focus.
His sharp gaze swept over her desk, then paused. It lingered on her face for a beat longer than usual.
Clara flinched, instinctively straightening her posture, trying to appear less like the walking disaster she felt.
She met his eyes briefly. No recognition, no concern, just that usual cool assessment. Or so she thought.
Turning, he moved toward the breakroom, presumably for his morning coffee. Clara let out a silent breath she hadn't realized she was holding.
Retrieving a stack of documents, she began to sort them, her mind still replaying Lily's pale face. A sudden slip. The papers scattered across the floor with a soft rustle.
Cursing under her breath, Clara knelt to gather them. Her vision swam again. The edges of the office seemed to tilt.