Mira's POV
The office felt different today.
Not louder.
Not quieter.
Just… colder.
Mira could feel it the moment she stepped inside.
Eyes.
Too many eyes.
Not welcoming.
Not neutral.
Watching.
Judging.
Whispering.
She tightened her grip on the files in her hands, fingers pressing slightly harder than usual.
"…did something happen…?"
No one answered.
Of course they wouldn't.
A few people looked away the moment her gaze met theirs.
Others didn't bother hiding it.
Suspicion.
Disapproval.
Blame.
Her chest felt tight.
But she didn't stop walking.
"…just go to your desk…"
Step by step.
Calm.
Normal.
Like nothing was wrong.
Like everything was fine.
Because that's what normal people do.
Right?
She reached her desk.
Sat down slowly.
Placed the files neatly.
Her hands were steady.
But her thoughts weren't.
"…why does it feel like I did something wrong…"
A notification sound broke the silence.
Sharp.
Sudden.
She flinched slightly before looking at her screen.
An internal mail.
Marked urgent.
Her name.
Her heart skipped.
"…what is this…?"
She opened it.
And everything—
stopped.
Her breath.
Her thoughts.
Her ability to process.
Because what she was reading—
didn't make sense.
Financial discrepancies.
Unauthorized file access.
Data manipulation.
All linked—
to her ID.
"…no…"
The word didn't come out.
It stayed stuck somewhere between her chest and her throat.
Her fingers trembled slightly as she scrolled.
More details.
More accusations.
More things she didn't understand.
"…this isn't… mine…"
Her eyes widened.
"…I didn't do this…"
A chair scraped loudly nearby.
Then another.
Then footsteps.
People were standing.
Looking at her.
Not hiding it anymore.
"…Mira."
Someone called her name.
Not kindly.
Not softly.
She turned.
Slowly.
A senior staff member stepped forward.
Serious expression.
Cold tone.
"Care to explain this?"
Her lips parted.
But no words came out.
"…I…"
Explain?
How do you explain something—
you don't even understand?
"I didn't—"
"Your ID was used."
Another voice cut in.
Sharper.
Accusing.
"Logs don't lie."
Her heart started pounding.
Loud.
Fast.
Uncontrollable.
"…I didn't do this…"
This time the words came out.
Soft.
But clear.
Honest.
And that was the problem.
Because honesty—
doesn't always sound convincing.
Not in a room full of doubt.
Not when evidence says otherwise.
"Then who did?"
Silence.
Her mind went blank.
Because she didn't know.
She truly didn't.
"…I don't know…"
A murmur spread across the room.
Disbelief.
Disappointment.
Judgment.
"…of course she doesn't…"
"…new employees always cause problems…"
"…I knew something was off…"
Each whisper—
a small cut.
Not loud.
Not direct.
But sharp enough to hurt.
Her fingers tightened against the edge of the desk.
"…stay calm…"
"…just stay calm…"
But her chest felt heavy.
Too heavy.
Like something was pressing down on her from the inside.
"I really didn't do this…"
Her voice was still soft.
Still gentle.
But this time—
it carried something more.
A quiet firmness.
Not loud.
Not defensive.
But real.
"I wouldn't do something like that."
A pause.
For a second—
just a second—
the room hesitated.
Because there was no fear in her voice.
No panic.
Just truth.
And that made it harder to ignore.
But still—
not enough.
"Until this is investigated," the senior spoke again, "you'll step away from your work."
Her heart dropped.
"…step away…?"
"Effective immediately."
Silence.
Heavy.
Final.
Her fingers slowly loosened.
"…okay…"
She didn't argue.
Didn't fight.
Didn't break.
She simply nodded.
Because she knew—
forcing people to believe you
doesn't make them believe you.
And screaming—
doesn't make truth louder.
She stood up.
Carefully.
Respectfully.
Even now.
Even like this.
"…I'll wait…"
Her voice was quiet.
But steady.
"For the truth to come out."
No anger.
No desperation.
Just belief.
In something she couldn't prove yet.
But refused to doubt.
And somehow—
that made the silence heavier than before.
---
The room slowly returned to movement.
People sat down.
Whispers faded.
But not completely.
They never do.
Mira walked out of her section.
Each step slower now.
Not because she was weak.
But because—
she was holding everything in.
"…don't cry…"
Not here.
Not now.
Not in front of them.
Her vision blurred slightly.
But she blinked it away.
"…you didn't do anything wrong…"
So why—
did it feel like she lost something?
---
She didn't notice when she stopped walking.
Didn't realize where she was.
Until—
"…Mira?"
That voice.
Light.
Familiar.
She looked up.
Kael.
For a second—
everything she was holding in
almost broke.
"…Kael sir…"
He took one look at her—
and his expression changed.
Not joking.
Not playful.
Serious.
"…who did this?"
Her breath trembled slightly.
"…I don't know…"
And for the first time—
her voice cracked.
Just a little.
"I really don't…"
Kael's gaze darkened.
Not at her.
At the situation.
At whoever caused it.
"…yeah," he muttered softly, "I figured."
He stepped closer.
Not too close.
Just enough.
"You okay?"
She nodded.
Automatically.
"…yes…"
A pause.
Then she shook her head.
"…no…"
Honest.
Finally.
Kael exhaled softly.
"…good."
She blinked.
"…good?"
"Means you're not pretending."
A small silence.
Then—
"You don't have to carry this alone."
Her fingers tightened slightly again.
"…but everyone thinks—"
"I don't."
The words came instantly.
Firm.
Certain.
No hesitation.
And for some reason—
that mattered more than everything else today.
"…thank you…"
Her voice was softer now.
But not broken.
Just… tired.
Kael smiled slightly.
"…don't thank me yet."
His eyes shifted.
Sharp now.
Focused.
"Because whoever did this—"
His tone dropped.
Dangerous.
"I'm going to find them."
And somewhere—
deep inside—
for the first time since morning—
Mira felt something return.
Not confidence.
Not certainty.
But…
support.