Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 75242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
But I don’t say that.
“Thanks,” I simply tell Stella.
She gives me another nod and then leaves. I sit on the couch, on the exquisitely soft microfiber couch that still smells new and faces the window, and I let out a deep breath.
So this is my new home, huh?
I wasn’t lying when I said I like it. I like Chicago, too. The only thing I don’t like about this new job? Asher. He’s a textbook jerk. Selfish. Conceited. Obnoxious. He thinks he’s God’s gift to women, while in truth, he’s a curse. He shouldn’t exist.
And yet, Stella, who I happen to like, seems to think he’s a good guy. She was practically selling him to me, trying to tell me to give him another chance. And the thing is she knows Asher. If she’s with Ethan, Asher must be like a brother to her. That may make her biased, but it also means she knows him well.
What about me? How well do I really know Asher?
I went to school with him, but we barely talked outside of our classes. I only had that one conversation with him before we started kissing and things fell apart. Ever since then, I’ve thought of him as a monster.
But is he one? I’m judging him based on one fact, one incident, one mistake which he already apologized for. Is that fair? What if I’m wrong about him? What if I’m being too harsh, too rash?
The more I think about it, the more I realize that I don’t actually hate him. I just hate what he did. Just that one thing. And I’m to blame for it, too.
Is there a chance that maybe, just maybe, I’ve been wrong all this time and Asher isn’t as bad as I think he is?
~
I’m right. Asher’s bad. The worst, actually.
During my first day at the office, Asher dumped a whole pile of work on me. And he keeps adding to it every day. I’ve barely been able to leave my desk. I’ve even had to work overtime. On my first week. And if I make so much as a single error, even if it’s a typo, or forget one little detail, he’s on my case, turning it into a big deal. If I try to say anything in my defense, he glares and tells me that if I can’t do my job, I should just quit.
There’s no way I’m going to quit, but I don’t like this. Not one bit. I’m definitely being punished. And I know it’s for personal reasons.
Is it because I threatened to take his job? Or is it because I said I’d never forgive him? Whatever the reason, I think he’s being unfair. And he’s even worse during meetings.
At the first one, he tried everything he could to make me feel like I didn’t belong. Not in that meeting. Not in his department. Not in the company. He made it clear he didn’t like me, so now, no one on the floor does. He didn’t give me a chance to speak. Each time I started talking, he’d interrupt or move on. And he deliberately talked a lot about things they did in the past that I clearly wasn’t a part of and have no knowledge of. It was as if I wasn’t there.
I thought the second meeting would be better because he gave me a chance to report, but then afterwards, he started criticizing me, pointing out every mistake I made and telling me I could have done everything better because he could have done it all better. In front of everyone. Even when I was in school, I was never criticized in front of the whole class. It made me want to cry.
And just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, today, at the meeting just now, Asher stole my ideas, all my hard work, all the plans I drew up, the charts, the tables, and passed them off as his. I was so shocked and disappointed I couldn’t say anything even if I’d wanted to.
But I can speak now. Enough is enough.
“Mr. Hawthorne?” I get up from my chair as Asher starts to leave the conference room. “A moment, please?”
He keeps going. “I’m busy.”
Oh no. He’s not running away.
“Asher!” I slam my hands on the table.
That gets his attention. He stops and turns towards me.
“What?”
“This has to stop,” I tell him in a calmer tone.
His dark eyes narrow. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do. Ever since I started working here, you’ve been dumping work on me. Not just my work but yours. And you’ve seized every chance to make fun of me, humiliate me and make me feel like I don’t belong here.”
“How you feel is completely under your control, not mine. So if you feel like you don’t belong here, maybe it’s because that’s what you believe.”