Emersyn

I should have taken it as a bad omen when I walked into my office this morning to find my cactus dead. Seriously, who manages to kill a cactus?

Well, apparently, me.

Aren't cacti supposed to be practically indestructible? Isn't that the whole appeal of having one? I admit, I don't have a green thumb, but come on.

This cactus has been by my side since I started this job four years ago. It was my very first office decoration. I've gone weeks without watering it before, and it always managed to tough it out. Just yesterday, it looked perfectly healthy when I left. But today, it's dead.

Farewell, dear Mr. Prickles. You'll be sorely missed.

As I stare at the lifeless form of Mr. Prickles, a wave of guilt washes over me. How could I have let this happen? I have taken for granted the resilience of my spiky companion.

A pang of nostalgia sweeps through me as I think about the day I first brought Mr. Prickles into my office. He represented a fresh start, a small touch of nature amidst the sterile corporate environment. Over the years, Mr. Prickles had become more than just a plant; he was a constant presence, silently witnessing the ups and downs of my professional journey. And I have to admit, it's mostly been downs.

This was never a job I wanted. I never saw myself sitting behind a desk all day. I always thought I would have a job working with my hands. Something creative, maybe.

But here I am.

I guess having a job that pays the bills comes with its sacrifices, like draining your soul. But hey, at least I can afford a roof over my head, right? Silver linings, I suppose.

As I continue my morning, clicking away at my computer, I can't help but feel a void in my office without Mr. Prickles. He was irreplaceable, but the emptiness lingers. Maybe it's time for a new addition, something low-maintenance. A fake plant sounds tempting. I could even place it in actual potting soil, creating the illusion of life. At least that way, I won't risk accidentally killing it.

Halfway through the day, just as I'm absorbed in my work, my office phone interrupts with a shrill ring.

"Emersyn Hill's office," I answer, curious about the unexpected call.

"Hi, Miss Hill. David wants to see you in his office before you head out for lunch," Cynthia, the receptionist, relays.

"Thank you, Cynthia," I reply, my mind racing with possibilities.

Why would David want to see me? Could it be the long-awaited promotion I've been tirelessly chasing? I've poured my heart and soul into boosting my production numbers. Perhaps today holds a silver lining after all.

With a mix of excitement and curiosity, I gather my purse, keys, and phone and make my way to David's office. Maybe my hard work is finally paying off, and this meeting with David will be the turning point I've been yearning for.

I knock lightly on the door and hear a muffled "Come in."

Entering David's office, I find him seated behind his imposing desk, his expression unreadable. The air feels heavy as if the room itself holds secrets.

David is surprisingly young, maybe around thirty, for someone in his position as CEO of a company. It was unexpected to see someone so young in such a high-ranking role. However, it turns out that he's what you might call a "nepo-baby." His father owns, like, a bazillion companies and essentially handed David one on a silver platter.

He's a good boss, though. Oftentimes clueless, but good nonetheless. I've never seen him angry or yell. Which is a far cry from the other CEOs and businessmen that have been in and out of this office.

"Emersyn, please have a seat," David says, motioning toward a chair opposite him. I comply, a pit of uncertainty growing in my stomach. This doesn't feel like a promotion talk. The expression on David's face doesn't look like the expression of someone who's about to give someone good news.

"Emersyn," David begins, his voice unusually solemn, "I'll get straight to the point. We've had to make some difficult decisions, and unfortunately, your position is being eliminated."

I feel the words hang in the air, each syllable piercing through my hopes and dreams. The promotion I had envisioned evaporates, leaving a bitter taste of disappointment.

"Why?" I manage to choke out, my voice betraying a mix of confusion and sadness. Tears begin to well up in my eyes.

Get it together, Emersyn. Do not cry.

David's eyes soften momentarily. "It's purely a result of the company's restructuring, Emersyn. It's not a reflection of your work or dedication. You've been an asset to the team, and I truly appreciate your efforts."

His words offer a sliver of consolation, but it's cold comfort in the face of losing a job I never truly loved yet had grown accustomed to. The irony is not lost on me.

As I gather my belongings and leave David's office, a whirlwind of emotions consumes me. Disappointment, uncertainty, and a tinge of relief intertwine in a bittersweet dance. The corporate world, with all its compromises and soul-draining monotony, has cast me aside.

Time has always seemed irrelevant in the corporate grind, the days blending together in a monotonous haze. But now, with the demise of Mr. Prickles and the unsettling news from David, each tick of the clock seems to echo in my mind, marking a defining moment, a new chapter. I feel a strange sense of liberation mixed with uncertainty.

Returning to my office, I begin packing up my things. Carefully placing them in a box, I can't quite believe this is happening.

Fortunately, I have some savings tucked away, a safety net to soften the blow. And David did mention a modest severance package from the company. It will help me stay afloat for the next few weeks as I plunge headfirst into searching for a job.

With my belongings safely stowed away, I take a moment to catch my breath. Thoughts of Lyle floods my mind. His worry-prone nature is ever-present when it comes to our finances. How will he react to the news? The mere thought of his anxiety spikes my own.

Lyle is my partner of six years. Our paths first crossed back in high school, though we were never more than passing acquaintances. He was the charismatic jock, a star football player, while I found solace in my artsy, introverted nature. It was through my older brother, who happened to be friends with Lyle that our worlds collided.

A turning point came one fateful night when my brother threw a wild house party. Typically, I wouldn't have attended, content in my loner solitude. However, with a little push from my best friend Valarie, I decided to step out of my comfort zone. And that's when I bumped into Lyle.

We drunkenly flirted, and, well, one thing led to another. The rest, as they say, is history.

Maybe I shouldn't tell him I was laid off just yet. I contemplate keeping the news to myself. Slipping out of the house in the mornings as if everything is normal, only returning after he leaves for work. I'll spend most of the day searching for a new job, and by the time I have to tell him I was laid off, I might already have another job. It might just work.

As I ponder this, my mind drifts back to the early days with Lyle. Those days were filled with laughter, endless conversations, and a connection that I thought was unbreakable. Lyle was charismatic, charming, and the first man I truly loved.

We would spend hours walking through the park, hand in hand, discussing our dreams and future together. He seemed so attentive, so caring. But as the years went by, I began to notice changes in him. The endless conversations turned into monologues about his own achievements and ambitions. The long walks became shorter as he became more consumed with his appearance, his career, and his own needs.

I remember one particular evening when I shared a personal victory with him, only to have him overshadow it with a minor achievement of his own, shifting the focus back onto himself. His once warm eyes had become distant, his touch more mechanical.

There were also times when his worry-prone nature would turn into something slightly more controlling, like when he'd insist on choosing my outfits for specific events or when he'd question me extensively about where I'd been and with whom. It was all masked under a pretense of concern, but it never sat quite right with me.

Despite these red flags, I stayed. I believed in us, in the love that we once shared. I convinced myself that he was just going through a phase and that he would return to the man I first fell in love with. I ignored the nagging feeling in the back of my mind that something wasn't right, suppressing my own doubts in favor of the idealized image I had of him.

As I leave the office building, my mind still reeling from the news of my job loss, I hail a taxi to take me home. It's been a day of unexpected turns, and I long for the comfort of my bed. I can't wait to get home, take my pants off, curl up in bed, and binge-watch my comfort show.

The taxi pulls up to my apartment building. I pay and get out. At least I still have a few hours until Lyle gets off of work. Just enough time to hide the box of things from my office in the back of the closet and sulk for a while.

My heart sinks as I walk through the lobby and notice the 'Out of Order' sign on the elevator door. This thing always seems to be broken. With as much rent as we pay, you would think we would at least have a working elevator more often than not. With a sigh, I resign myself to climbing the stairs. Step by step, I ascend, feeling the strain in my legs and the weight of the day on my shoulders.

I wouldn't say I'm out of shape, not exactly. I go to the gym regularly and stay pretty active. However, I do have some extra weight in my curves, and these stairs are definitely putting me to the test.

Sweat gathers on my forehead as I reach my floor, panting for breath. I fumble for my keys, eager to step inside and find solace in the familiarity of my home.

As I insert the key into the lock, a strange noise catches my attention—a muffled sound emanating from within my apartment.

My heart skips a beat as a mix of curiosity and unease washes over me. Did I accidentally leave the TV on? Or is there an intruder inside? My mind races with possibilities, each one more unsettling than the last.

The door creaks open, and the noise from inside grows louder, filling my ears.

Moving cautiously, I follow the sound, my footsteps silent against the carpeted floor. Dread weighs heavily upon me as I reach my bedroom door.

Don't open the door, Emersyn. Nothing good could be behind it. Just turn around and walk back out of this apartment. It would be like you were never here, like you never heard a thing.

With a mixture of fear and desperation, I push my bedroom door open, my eyes widening at the scene before me.

There, sprawled across the bed, is Lyle, naked and on his back. A woman sits on top of him, his cock buried deep inside of her.

Shock and betrayal surge through me like a tidal wave, shattering my world into a million fractured pieces. Time seems to stand still as I take in the sight, unable to tear my gaze away.

A strangled gasp escapes my lips, a desperate attempt to stifle the guttural cry building within me. The box I had been carrying slips from my trembling hands, crashing to the ground with a resounding thud, its contents forgotten amidst the wreckage of my emotions.

Lyle's eyes meet mine, widening in realization and regret. "Emmie," he gasps out, pushing the woman off of him.

The world around me fades into the background, leaving only the sharp ache in my chest and the deafening silence of shattered trust.

I try once again to tear my gaze away, to shield my broken heart from the unbearable sight, but I am powerless. My eyes remain locked on the painful truth, unable to look away from the devastation that now engulfs my world.

My mind whirls, searching for an explanation, desperately seeking a way to rationalize what I'm witnessing. But there are no excuses, no justifications that can ease the pain. The reality of Lyle's infidelity hangs in the air, suffocating the love and trust we had built over the past six years.

You shouldn't have opened the door, Emersyn. You knew. You knew what you were going to find. You're so fucking stupid.

Words fail me as I stumble backward, tears streaming down my face. The weight of the day's events crashes down on me, amplifying the devastation I now face. In this moment, the loss of my job feels insignificant compared to the loss of the person I thought I knew.

With a trembling voice, I manage to utter a broken whisper, "Lyle... how could you?"

Lyle stammers, trying to find an excuse, but his feeble attempts fall on deaf ears.

I have no words. There's nothing left to say. My heart: shattered. My trust: shattered. I turn away, feeling a mix of anger, betrayal, and deep sadness.

I step out of the apartment, and the door shuts with an echoing click, marking the finality of the moment. My legs wobble, my heart aches, and my mind is a whirlwind of disbelief and despair. How could this have happened? How could the person I loved so deeply betray me in such a cruel way?

The world outside seems surreal as if I've been plucked from reality and placed into a nightmarish dream. The sounds of the bustling city seem distant, muffled by the chaos of my thoughts. I wander aimlessly down the hallway, clutching my chest as if to hold together the pieces of my shattered heart.

I reach the stairwell and begin to descend, each step heavier than the last. The stairs that once tested my physical strength now seem to mirror the overwhelming emotional burden I carry. Tears flow freely down my cheeks, leaving hot, salty trails in their wake. I feel a loneliness I've never known before, a hollow emptiness threatening to consume me.

I finally reach the ground floor, stepping out into the cool, indifferent embrace of the evening. The sky has darkened. The familiar streets seem alien, hostile even. I'm lost in my own neighborhood, adrift in a sea of uncertainty and grief.