Lydia's Point Of View
The moment I stepped into the general office, the noise dipped.
Chairs slowed mid-swivel, fingers hesitated over keyboards, and conversations dropped a notch but didn't die completely. The air itself seemed to hold its breath.
Eyes followed my every move.
Clara rushed ahead of me, clearing a space like she feared I'd change my mind halfway across the room. Her hands fluttered nervously. "Ma'am… your system… here—"
"Easy," I said, setting the files down before she fumbled them onto the floor. I kept my voice gentle, watching her shoulders tense. "You're handling important things."
"S-sorry." Her cheeks flushed pink.
"It's fine." I offered a small smile, hoping to ease her anxiety.
I pulled the chair out and sat, flipping my laptop open with practiced ease. The screen lit up, its glow reflecting faintly on my fingers as I logged in. The familiar interface loaded, and I felt myself settling into the rhythm of work.
