Chapter 2
The next afternoon, Francis handed me the "outcome."
In the company group chat, Kyla posted a lengthy apology.
She explained she'd been feeling down lately after breaking up with her ex. When she saw me in Francis's office, she let her imagination run wild, thought I was some outsider cozying up to the boss, and posted without thinking.
She admitted she got the wrong person and deleted the post.
She even tagged me directly.
[Clarissa, I'm sorry. I misunderstood you. Hope you can let it slide this time.]
People started chiming in to smooth things over.
[Hey, young folks are bound to act on impulse.]
[Once the misunderstanding's cleared up, it's fine.]
[We're all in the same company, no need for hard feelings.]
After reading her apology, I couldn't help but laugh.
There was not a word about me being Francis's wife.
Not a single mention of her accusing me of having an affair.
No reference to secretly filming me, the online hate, or the character assassination.
Just a casual "misunderstanding," and she expects everyone to let it slide.
As I stared at the screen, Francis called.
"Did you see it?" he asked.
"Yeah, I saw it," I replied.
"Clarissa, I know you're feeling wronged, but she's already apologized in front of everyone. We're right in the middle of the project. Can we just let this slide for now? I'll have a word with her in private," Francis said.
"So your so-called public apology is just her hiding behind the excuse of a 'bad mood'?" I shot back.
"She's just 24."
"So being 24 means she can just call people out online whenever she wants?
"Francis, you're the general manager, not a kindergarten teacher."
He was momentarily silent, his tone growing heavier.
"Clarissa, I know she's in the wrong. But the company can't afford any drama right now. Don't make things harder for me," he said.
Hearing that, I actually felt a strange calm wash over me.
So he was the one who got it rough.
And I guess I just deserve to be put on blast online and cursed out by strangers.
So that was what really mattered to him.
"Fine," I said.
Francis sounded relieved. "I'll come home early tonight and bring you your favorite chestnut cake."
I just hung up.
That night, he did come home early, and he brought the chestnut cake from that famous place on the west side of town—the one people line up for hours to get.
He came in, changed his shoes like always, hung up his suit jacket, and walked over to hug me from behind, just like he always did.
"Are you still upset?" Francis asked.
I gently pushed his hands away.
"I'm just tired."
He looked down at me, studying my face.
I looked up at him and asked softly, "What's your relationship with Kyla?"
He barely hesitated.
"She's just an employee," he said.
He answered way too fast, like he'd rehearsed it.
I held his gaze for a few seconds before nodding.
"Got it," I said.
That night, I lay in bed, turned away from him.
He must've thought I was asleep, but his phone buzzed twice right next to my pillow.
I heard him pick up his phone quietly and head out to the balcony.
The door was left slightly open.
The wind carried his voice in a little.
"She's still not over it yet, so try to keep things cool for now," Francis said.
"Don't post those things anymore.
"I'll handle it."
I closed my eyes, and one question kept running through my mind.
Who exactly was he planning to handle?
Me, or that girl who went nuts?