Page 53 of Wrong Marriage. Right Groom
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
Each step deliberate as I made my way to my supervisor’s desk.
He was exactly where I expected him to be.
The faint tapping of his keyboard. The subtle shift of his chair.
“Sir,” I said, stopping at a respectful distance, “I’ve just received an urgent call. I need to leave for a family matter immediately.”
My tone remained professional.
“I’ll complete the remaining handover notes remotely tonight if needed.”
A short laugh followed.
“Handover notes?” he said, amusement laced with something less pleasant. “You’ve quite unexpectedly been promoted, Loretta.”
“From tomorrow,” he continued, “you will, in fact, outrank me. It would be unwise of me to impede you from attending to this urgent family matter.”
The sarcasm wasn’t subtle.
“Go ahead.”
“I appreciate it,” I said simply.
I turned without waiting for further comment and made my way toward the exit.
The transition from inside to outside was immediate.
The city breathed differently than the building.
I stepped onto the sidewalk and paused, orienting myself.
My phone vibrated again briefly—Uber confirmed.
I stood still, listening, mapping the space around me as I waited.
Then multiple hurried footsteps followed—fast, aggressive, closing in on me far too quickly.
Before I could fully react, a hand fisted into my ponytail and yanked hard.
Pain exploded across my scalp, sharp and blinding, tearing a scream from my throat before I could stop it.
“Let go!” I cried out.
A kick slammed into the back of my knee, buckling my leg beneath me.
My leg buckled instantly.
I hit the pavement hard, gravel biting into my palms, my shoulder jolting with the force.
“You whore.”
A venomous voice cut through everything.
