During the funeral, a crow landed on the girl’s coffin. A second later, everyone present was STRUCK SPEECHLESS…

But today, it didn’t work. Her eyes scanned contract text, but the meaning slipped away like water through her fingers.

Twenty minutes later, everything was ready. The documents were neatly stacked, clipped per office protocol. She took a deep breath.

“Enough,” she said, gathering the papers. Her footsteps echoed in the office corridor. Colleagues chatted among themselves.

Some laughed, others discussed evening plans. The sounds only deepened her sense of isolation. She knocked on Matthew’s office door.

“Come in!” His voice was muffled but confident. Emily opened the door and stepped inside. Matthew sat at his desk, reviewing papers.

He looked up as she entered and smiled. His eyes crinkled, as they always did when he was pleased. “Right on time!” he said, leaning back in his chair.

“Got the documents?” “Yes, all set,” she said, placing the folder on his desk. Matthew flipped through a few pages and nodded, satisfied.

“Great work, as always. I never doubted you.” He looked up, his expression softening.

“Listen, I booked a table at a restaurant for tonight. Want to grab dinner?” Emily froze. Not long ago, she’d have agreed without hesitation.

But now… things were different. “I can’t tonight, sorry,” she said quietly, looking away.

“Is this about Claire?” His tone sharpened. “No, I’m just not feeling well.” Her voice wavered, but she held her ground.

Matthew squinted, studying her face. “Want me to drive you home now?” he offered, a hint of the care that once made her heart flutter. “Thanks, but I’ll manage.”

She straightened, lifting her chin slightly. “Am I free to go?” Matthew watched her, as if trying to read her thoughts, then nodded slowly.

“Yeah, sure. Rest up.” His voice was soft, but there was a trace of irritation.

She turned and left the office. A cool breeze hit her face as she stepped outside. The cold air filled her lungs, stinging her cheeks.

Her fingers gripped her bag’s strap tightly, her gaze wandering over passersby. People hurried home, smiling, talking on phones. Each had their own life.

She passed a café where happy couples sat behind the glass. One man wrapped an arm around his girlfriend and kissed her temple. Her heart ached.

“Naive,” she whispered to herself. She walked slowly, as if delaying her trip home. The commute was usually routine, but today it felt twice as long.

Cars sped by, the wind tousled her hair, but inside, there was only emptiness. She stopped at a crosswalk, staring at the traffic light. The red light blinked, but she barely noticed.

Her thoughts were elsewhere. “Lady, cross already!” a man shouted behind her. She flinched and stepped forward, not looking back.

At home, Emily dropped her bag by the door and hung her coat on a hook. She stood in the middle of the room, looking around. Her fingers brushed her temples, feeling the tension, then she walked to the wall and leaned against it…