He Yearned for My Love but He Was Too Late

I limped as I got inside my cubicle to start my work. My stitches hurt after the effects of painkillers had worn off. I can feel eyes staring at me, boring a hole at my back. But as soon as I turned to look at them, they all looked away and pretended they were in deep conversation with one another. Strange. I was quite confused, as I could sense that they were talking about me and that I am the center of attention.

“Is there something going on?” I thought. I heard muffled laughter whenever I passed by, sometimes a snicker or two. I even heard a woman say, “Serves her right.” I turned to confront her, but she just looked at me from head to foot, sneered at me, and walked away. “It must only be my imagination,” I tried to reason with myself. But my gut instinct told me something was wrong. Something was off, and it involved me.

I went to the washroom. I was inside a cubicle when I heard two colleagues gossiping. The words they were saying were like daggers piercing my broken heart.

“Have you heard the latest gossip? Mr. Romano ditched Isabella in favor of that bitchy assistant!”

“Really? Where did you hear that news from?”

“You should read our group chat! Everybody’s talking about it! There was a meeting yesterday, and Bianca was serving coffee. I don’t know if she intentionally poured coffee on her dress! But then we know how sly she is! I think she did it on purpose.”

“So, her dress got wet and became transparent?” The girl snickered.

“You read her well. All the men during the meeting were staring at her. And she was like, ‘Oh, how careless of me. I’m all wet. Whatever shall I do? ’ She acted so helpless that Rocco got tissues and tried to wipe the stains off her white dress. She was wearing a plunging neckline too. Rocco was wiping that area a little too diligently. Sensing that everyone was observing his moves, he picked her up in front of everyone, went out of the room, and brought her inside his office.”

“Then I guess that some of you were listening right outside the door?” The girl cackled.

“Yes! You should have been here! Everyone was having a field day! We heard Bianca giggling like crazy! Then there was absolute silence. We then looked at each other and giggled like crazy!”

“In my opinion, Isabella is just too tame and naïve to be the girlfriend of a Mafia boss. Mr. Rocco would need someone who is very assertive and domineering to be his wife someday.”

“Serves her right if Bianca will be able to snatch our boss away from her. She’s too full of herself, acting high and mighty with her holier-than-thou attitude. I prefer Bianca over her to be the girlfriend of our boss.”

I don’t know what on earth made me bring a mirror inside the cubicle. Its existence was cut short as it shattered on the floor and broke into many pieces. But that was nothing compared to the state of my heart. A broken mirror couldn’t feel any pain. It just ceased to exist. My heart, on the other hand, continued to throb and pulse even though it just wanted to die over and over again. No balm or salve can heal a heart that’s been broken countless times.

The women gasped when they realized that I heard all of their conversations. Horrified, they scuttled into the corner when I came out of the cubicle. My legs were covered with pinpricks of blood where the shards cut through my skin. I looked at my face in the mirror, and who did I see? A girl so pale and wan, who was nothing but a shadow of her old, happy self.

I shouted at the top of my lungs, my voice echoing through the washroom. The women inside froze, their faces drained of color as they scrambled for the exit, panic written all over them.

Alone in the sudden silence, I felt the weight of my despair crash down. The door slammed shut behind them, leaving me in a tense stillness.

I screamed in pain and agony and smashed my fists at the mirror! Rivulets of blood ran down my arms as shards of broken glass cut through my skin. I sank down to the floor, feeling weak as I lost a lot of blood. I tried to keep my eyes open but lost consciousness in the end.

Then, from somewhere beyond the walls, a voice called my name, urgent and filled with dread. “What’s happening in there?”