It was a starry night... Elena is sleeping after a good cry... Her heart was aching...
She was lost in dream when suddenly she feels someone touching her boobs from behind.....
Her eye quick open and the unknown fear enclosed her....
She didn't even dare to turn and look..
She screamed in a spine chilling sound..
And it turned out.....
Chapter-1
Vargas had never
thought of herself as lonely.
She was thirty, lived alone in a sunlit one-bedroom
apartment with lemon-yellow curtains, and she liked it that way. She had a
potted fern named Harold, a small espresso machine that hissed and sputtered
each morning, and a work-life balance she was almost proud of.
Her friends envied her freedom — no partner to compromise
with, no children to chase after, no in-laws to tolerate during holidays.
"Must be nice," they'd say, imagining lazy Sunday mornings
and impromptu trips abroad.
And it was nice. Most of the time.
That Thursday began like all the others.
A mug of strong coffee, two slices of toast with too much
butter, a quick scan through her emails before she walked to the office. The
early spring air was cool enough to make her zip her jacket halfway, and the
city was alive with the scent of bakeries and the distant grind of
construction.
By 9:15, she was in her office chair, ready for the
quarterly review meeting — the one her team had been working toward for six
exhausting weeks. Elena had spearheaded the marketing proposal herself,
polishing every sentence and graphic until they gleamed. It was clever,
original, and — she thought — bulletproof.
The conference room was glass-walled, filled with the low
murmur of colleagues. Her boss sat at the far end, tapping a pen on his
notepad. Daniel, a coworker with a knack for charming the higher-ups, sat two
seats down, giving her a thin smile.
When it was her turn, she rose, hands steady, and clicked
through the slides. She explained their target audience, the campaign visuals,
the projected growth. She spoke clearly, confidently, and saw a few approving
nods. For a moment, she thought this might be her big break.
Then the head of operations leaned back in his chair.
"Interesting," he said, a smile curling at the edges. "But
unfortunately, we've decided to go with something… more inspired."
On the screen, a new campaign appeared. Her campaign — every
color, every tagline — but the name beneath it wasn't hers.
"Daniel has taken the concept in a fresh direction," the man
continued, gesturing toward her coworker.
Daniel grinned sheepishly. "Thanks. I, uh, really believed
in this idea."
Elena's mouth went dry.
"That's… mine," she said softly. But her voice was swallowed
by the shuffle of papers and murmurs of agreement.
No one defended her. Not her boss, not her team. The head of
operations patted her on the shoulder as people filed out.
"Better luck next time, Elena," he said, as if her ideas
were disposable.
She made it to the bathroom before the first tear slid down
her cheek. She hated crying in public — hated the vulnerability of it — but the
betrayal hit harder than she'd expected. This wasn't just her work stolen; it
was her being erased.
By the time she got home, the sky had turned a heavy,
bruised gray. She didn't bother with dinner. She changed into sweatpants,
curled into bed, and let the tears come.
For the first time in years, she wished she had someone to
tell. Someone to put their arms around her and say It's going to be okay.
Her pillow was damp when her sobs softened. Her breathing
slowed. Sleep began to pull her under.
And then — warmth.