"Chris!"
The boss's voice cracked across the office like a whip.
Aren flinched—quick, instinctive. His neck tightened. His eyes widened before immediately lowering to the floor.
The file was snatched from his trembling hands.
Papers flew.
They struck his face—light, harmless sheets—but he reacted as if they carried real weight.
One page brushed his cheek and slid down.
He didn't move to stop it.
He just stood there, absorbing it.
"I told you to fix this! What is this?!" the boss barked.
Chris opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
His throat bobbed.
"S-s-sir… I—I… I th-thought…"
He swallowed mid-sentence, words crumbling before they could form.
His fingers twitched at his sides, wanting to gather the fallen papers, wanting to defend himself—but lacking the courage to do either.
His gaze darted up for a fraction of a second—only to retreat instantly when the boss glared back.
"Thought? You thought?" the boss scoffed. "Do you even read what you submit?"
