I still can't believe I've had an actual, meaningful conversation with Amelia Bright! The next time Julie comes round at my place, I'll make sure I'll tell her everything. I won't leave a single detail behind. This has been a historical moment for me, not just as an aspiring author, but also as a person.

Since the book presentation and workshop are coming to an end, there's time for questions. For some reason, however, I don't feel like asking any. Maybe it's because I think Amelia has been exhaustive enough, or maybe it's due to a mixture of forgetfulness and stress.

Someone else, however, raises their hand. "Mrs. Bright, is it true that you believe a talented author is one that never has to resort to compromising in order to succeed?" I'm not sure who's just asked this question since there are so many people in the audience.

Amelia's response is perfect, both in terms of content and tone. "Well, if I want to give you an exhaustive answer, I'll need hours. I don't think I have this much time." Understandable. She only has a few minutes left before she has to go.

She continues, leaving the author of the question stunned. "However, I can tell you straight away that you may want to define 'compromise' properly for me to understand the concept you're bringing up." Hit and sunk.

"Any other questions?" Since no-one else comes forward, Amelia declares that the event can officially come to an end. As most invitees start leaving the premise, Jeff and I stay behind to catch up. He tells me, "I've taken notes. What about you?"

"Just a few. But, what matters the most is that I got to see her in person and learn the tricks of the trade," I answer. Out of a sudden, the atmosphere surrounding us grows tense. The realization that we're at the point of no return hits us exactly when it's supposed to do so.

"Is everything okay?"

I don't want to lie to Jeff and say everything is fine. So, I confess. "Well, there's something I have to ask you."

"What is it? You're worrying me. Just relax, okay?"

"You're right. I have to calm down. Let's leave now, it's late." In a move he finds surprising, I extend my hand for him to hold it, and he takes it without hesitating. We walk at a slow and measured pace towards the exit.

When we're at a reasonable distance from the event venue, I stop Jeff. "I really need to let it out. I can't wait anymore." I sigh twice. I can't believe I'm still stuck. Why can't I be more decisive in moments like this?

He notices my gaze is on the pavement and not on him. He holds my hands with a delicate touch and tries to get me to look at him. "Hey, don't worry. I'm here for you. I'm all ears. Look at me." Thanks to his encouragement, my gaze is now fixed on his.

"I won't hide behind excuses. Jeff, when you came to work at Pendula, you were like a breath of fresh air. Well, we started off on the wrong foot." He chuckles. He still remembers about the coffee mishap, but has repeatedly proven he doesn't hold it against me.

I continue. "However, we've since formed a bond. Both as colleagues and, I suppose, as friends. We stuck for each other when Roseann was pestering us."

"Yeah, you're right. Honestly, I'm glad that happened. It made us closer." He perfectly understands me. We're exactly on the same page. We've had each other's back regardless of what happened to either of us. This is no longer a mere coincidence.

I can no longer move one step at the time; therefore, I rush directly to the very words I've avoided pronouncing so far. "Jeff, I think I love you." Instead of allowing him to process my words, I let go of his hands and run away from him.

I notice there's a small department store in the area and rush inside. I don't know if and how much Jeff is catching up. What matters is that I need some time for myself, to realize what I've done. Maybe I've got ahead of myself and he isn't ready just yet.

Rather than pretending to hide among other customers, I head straight to the restroom. Fortunately for me, there isn't a queue, which allows me to go inside without wasting time.

I take care of my personal duty quickly. When it's time for me to wash my hands, I notice a familiar face at the very last basin on the right. She's gleefully chatting with two other women. At first, I don't pay attention to their stuff. 'It must be the same old gossip,' I think.

Nonetheless, their conversation turns louder as they raise their voices. "Hahaha, you really have a lot on those two losers. I can't wait for you to upload everything. They can't pretend they're saints anymore."

"Shhh... Keep it down, Tasha! Do you want me to be caught?" That shrill voice... Roseann! She's here with these two other women I don't know. All I'm certain of is that they don't work at Pendula. Who is she trying to alienate through external allies?

"You don't have anything to lose anymore, Roseann," points out the other woman who is with that witch. "They're toast. Just upload the picture and that's it."

"You're damn right, Carolyn. I'll just do it. She'll quit within the next three days if not earlier." She cackles as she finally leaves the basin with her minions in tow; however, she bumps into me. "Oh, Braverly, where is Jeff? I thought he was glued to you."

Since I don't want to make a scene, I give her a calm and collected answer. "I just needed a bathroom break, that's it. Now, can I go, please? He's waiting for me."

Despite my urgency to get out of this restroom, Roseann retains me by shoving her phone on my face. She's ready to post a picture of mine. Not a random one, though: in it, I wear a very daring, revealing red dress and high heels.

"I'll make sure everyone sees you for what you really are. Not the idiotic demure little girl, but a slut." I try to stop her, but she doubles down on her insults. "Nobody wants to work with a slut!" She posts the picture on all social media, not restraining herself as she also adds captions that paint me in a negative light.

Only then, she and her stupid sidechicks strut out of the room triumphantly. If Roseann succeeds in taking me down to cover up her own shortcomings, then I'll completely lose faith in Pendula. For now, I'd better go home and not turn back. I've already made too many poor figures for my liking.

Of course, her nasty posts are going viral. Likes pile up every single minute. Right now, I don't have the force to open the comment section. I have to return to Baindale first—then I'll see how serious the situation is. I also need to apologize to Jeff for running away the way I did.

How can my life have turned so messy in the span of a few hours? All I know is that nothing has quite been what it seemed. I wonder what was the breaking point, what led me to a path with no chance of turning back.

As I jump on the bus to Baindale, my stomach starts growling. Before I sort out the mess around me, my priority has to be dinner.