“Where the hell is Arunvi?”

The sharp voice echoed through the newsroom, slicing through the clicking keyboards and murmured conversations. Everyone froze for a second. Heads bent lower. No one wanted to be the next target of the HR Editor Manager’s fury.

“How can she write that kind of article for the MP of our state?” the woman yelled again, slamming her hand on the desk. “Does she even understand what she’s doing?”

A young boy barely out of college, judging by his nervous posture stood in front of her desk. His hands were clasped tightly, his throat dry.

“Ma’am… s-sir… she was leaving,” he said hesitantly, avoiding her eyes.

The HR manager’s glare sharpened.

“Leaving?” she repeated, her voice rising. “Do you even know what time it is? It’s 3 PM! Who gave her permission to leave the office? And after submitting such awful content?” She scoffed angrily. “Has she completely lost her mind?”

The boy swallowed hard but stayed silent. He knew better than to argue.

Meanwhile, completely unaware of the storm raging in the newsroom, Arunvi stood in the quiet comfort of the CEO’s assistant cabin.

The door was locked.

The assistant stood behind her, his arms wrapped around her waist, holding her tightly as if afraid she might disappear. His chin rested lightly on her shoulder.

“I missed you,” he whispered, his voice soft—nothing like the professional tone he used outside these walls.

Arunvi smiled, her lips curving gently as she placed her hands over his. “I missed you too,” she replied. “But I really have to go home. You can come tonight.”

He sighed, tightening his hold for a moment before slowly letting go. “No… I have a lot of work,” he said quietly. “It’s not possible.”

A flicker of disappointment crossed her face, but she hid it quickly. She understood. Work always came first here especially for people like him.

Just then, her phone started ringing.

She didn’t even need to look at the screen to know who it was. Still, when she did, her shoulders slumped slightly.

HR Editor Manager.

She sighed.

Before she could answer, he leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss on her forehead soft, reassuring, familiar.

“Be careful,” he murmured.

She nodded and picked up the call. “Hello, ma’am.”

“What hello?” the voice on the other end exploded. “Where the hell are you? If you haven’t reached home yet, turn back right now and come to the office! What kind of nonsense have you written? And who gave you permission to leave?”

Arunvi winced.

The volume was so loud that she had to pull the phone away from her ear, holding it at a safe distance. Her face twisted in annoyance as the yelling continued nonstop, each word sharper than the last, burning her ears.

Taking a deep breath, Arunvi replied calmly, “Sorry, ma’am. I’m already on the road. And… the CEO himself gave me permission to leave.”

There was a brief silence on the other end. Just a second but it felt powerful.

Her tone didn’t completely soften, but it definitely dropped a few levels. “Before submitting anything, do you even check what kind of words you’re using? Do you have any idea what you’ve written about the MP?” She paused, clearly frustrated. Her voice trailed off mid-sentence before she snapped, “Change it. Fix everything.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Arunvi replied quietly. “I’ll do it.”

The call ended abruptly.

Arunvi stared at her phone for a moment before slipping it back into her bag. She let out a tired breath. This wasn’t new. It never was.

She packed her things quickly, slung her bag over her shoulder, and gave the assistant a small smile. “Bye,” she said.

“Text me when you reach,” he replied.

She nodded and walked out.

The evening air hit her face as she stepped outside the building. The city buzzed around her cars honking, people rushing, life moving forward as if nothing had happened.

But inside her chest, everything felt heavy.

She had poured her truth into that article. Every word had come from frustration, from honesty, from years of watching powerful people escape consequences. And yet, honesty was always the first thing they wanted to erase.

As she walked toward her ride home, Arunvi tightened her grip on her bag.

This was only the beginning.

And somewhere deep inside, she knew things were about to get much worse.