The office looked different that Monday morning. Desks had been shuffled, nameplates moved, chairs still creaked in protest as everyone adjusted. Boxes of supplies sat in corners, cables tangled like unspoken confusion.
Jeanna stood for a moment near her new desk, taking in the rearranged view. What used to be Team Delta's neat corner was now merged with another cluster of employees—faces she barely knew. The label on their section now read Team Astra, a name chosen by the new supervisor, Ms. Clara Reyes, a woman whose poise radiated confidence and quiet pressure.
"Welcome to our newly aligned force," Ms. Clara had announced earlier with a small smile. "We're one family under Sales—but don't forget, performance metrics remain individual. I expect teamwork and results."
Her words had carried a spark that made everyone straighten their backs. She wasn't harsh, but there was firmness behind her soft voice, like steel under silk.
As Jeanna settled in, she noticed how close their area now was to Team Zephyr, Ethan's team. The space between their clusters felt like an invisible boundary—civil but competitive. Both teams handled similar clients, and though Clara's tone was professional, there was a silent rivalry in the air. Numbers, charts, and percentages were the weapons; recognition was the prize.
Across the aisle, Ethan's group chatted lightly while setting up. Their team leader, Mr. Vincent Chua, was sharp and charismatic—the kind who could turn tension into strategy. Clara and Vincent exchanged polite smiles whenever they crossed paths, but everyone could sense the underlying contest.
"Same department," Trixie whispered to Jeanna while logging in her computer, "but it feels like two kingdoms sharing one border."
Jeanna chuckled quietly. "As long as there's no war."
"Oh, trust me," Trixie said, grinning. "In sales, there's always a war—just quieter, full of smiles."
Jeanna smiled, glancing at her friend's desk. "At least we have each other in this."
Trixie raised her coffee cup. "Cheers to survival."
---
By noon, the room finally settled into its rhythm—the hum of air conditioning, the clicks of keyboards, phones ringing every few minutes. Clara occasionally walked around to check progress, her heels clicking lightly against the floor. She stopped by Jeanna's desk once to offer brief feedback on her reports, her expression kind but assessing.
"You're adapting well," she said. "Keep your records consistent. And don't let the noise distract you."
Jeanna nodded with a polite smile. "I won't, ma'am."
But the "noise" Clara mentioned wasn't just literal. Across the short aisle, Ethan's voice carried easily whenever he talked to his teammates. Calm, composed, effortlessly clear—it somehow reached Jeanna even when she tried to tune it out.
Trixie noticed her brief glance and smirked. "Still pretending he's invisible?"
Jeanna sighed, eyes fixed on her screen. "I'm just aware of my surroundings. That's all."
"Sure," Trixie teased. "Anyway, I've moved on from him."
That caught Jeanna's attention. "Moved on? I didn't know you had something to move on from."
Trixie laughed softly. "Not like that. I mean, before I noticed Ethan, my office crush was someone else from their team—Jared, the tall one with glasses. He's polite, helps anyone with technical stuff, and says 'thank you' like he really means it."
Jeanna grinned faintly. "So why not try talking to him? You're both nice people."
Trixie's smile faltered, her tone suddenly softer. "Because I've already used up my share of heartbreaks."
Jeanna blinked, sensing a shift in her friend's voice. Trixie rarely sounded this serious.
"I… had a husband before," Trixie continued quietly, her fingers tracing the rim of her cup. "We were married young. He was rich, smart, charming—the kind of man you'd think would give you the world." She paused, her eyes distant. "And he did, for a while. Until his parents died in a car accident. Something broke in him after that."
Jeanna listened, her chest tightening.
"He started gambling," Trixie said, voice steady but faint. "Sold the property his parents left, lost almost everything. At first, I thought it was grief, that it would pass. But the nights got longer, the debts got heavier… and the beatings started."
The words landed like quiet stones. The clatter of keyboards around them felt miles away.
"I was pregnant then," Trixie whispered. "With my daughter. I kept hoping he'd change, that he'd remember who he used to be. But the man I loved had disappeared into something else."
Jeanna reached out gently, placing a hand on her friend's arm. "You left him?"
Trixie nodded slowly. "After years of trying to fix what was already gone. I only ask him for support now when I really can't provide enough. It's not much, but at least he helps a little."
There was silence between them for a moment. Then Jeanna said softly, "You're stronger than you think, Trix."
Trixie smiled faintly. "Maybe. Or maybe I just got tired of being weak."
She straightened her back, trying to bring back her lightness. "That's why I say crushes are enough for me now. Admiration from afar—no expectations, no pain."
Jeanna nodded, understanding more than she expected to. "Sometimes distance is safer."
"Exactly." Trixie gave her a playful nudge. "Besides, I like my peace too much to lose it again."
Jeanna smiled, glancing at her monitor. "Peace sounds nice."
"It does," Trixie said. "So promise me you'll keep yours, too—even if someone with a calm voice and long hair starts stealing your focus."
Jeanna laughed softly. "I'll try."
---
The afternoon stretched long. Their team spent hours preparing sales reports for the weekly update, while Clara and Vincent held a joint meeting to coordinate client distributions. Beneath the surface of polite professionalism, subtle tension lingered—both teams eager to outperform the other.
When the meeting ended, Vincent passed by their section, flashing a confident grin. Clara returned it with a calm nod, her eyes unreadable. Jeanna caught Trixie whispering, "Yup, there it is—the rivalry of the century."
By the end of the day, Jeanna leaned back in her chair, exhausted but oddly fulfilled. The new setup was challenging, but something about it felt alive—more competitive, yes, but also more purposeful.
She turned off her monitor, glancing briefly across the aisle. Ethan was still there, speaking quietly to Jared, his tone thoughtful. When he noticed her glance, he gave that same faint, polite smile.
Jeanna looked away quickly, gathering her things. But this time, her chest didn't feel annoyed. It felt… curious again, in a way she couldn't quite define.
Outside, the city lights flickered through the glass windows. The night breeze greeted her as she stepped out of Orion System, walking beside Trixie.
Two women, both rebuilding. Both learning to balance the weight of the past with the quiet hope of tomorrow.
And somewhere between the shuffle of new desks and the stories left behind, Jeanna realized that maybe—just maybe—starting over didn't always mean being alone.