Five

As expected, Emilia left early for the TV station without leaving a memo. She sulked. I understand the curious attitude ingrained in a news seeker like her. But, as a friend, shouldn't everything be told? Am I wrong? After all, I'm sure she also has secrets that are never shared with anyone else.

Unfortunately, the dark circles under my eyes look scary due to not sleeping well this week. Even though I had covered it with concealer, my face still felt drained.

Should I see Margaretha's doctor again and tell her the therapy isn't working? Or should I ask her to increase the dose of my medicine?

"You'll die if you take too much medicine, Elizabeth," I muttered to the mirror. "What makes you dream of things..."

Wait!

Didn't this dream come from when I reprimanded the coffee man? Since then, I have often avoided meeting with Johnson Corp company officials even though he tried to get close. I will never forgive his behavior that day. He was pretty outrageous as a man who held the position of ruler. I still remember how tightly he gripped my hand and the look in his eyes.

But could it be that Mr Johnson triggered my nightmare? It could be. Isn't his facial expression almost the same as my stepfather's at that time?

"Okay, fine, I think maybe... I have to see Doctor Margaretha," I said, steadying myself, then grabbed my tote bag and put on shoes with heels that weren't scary, like stilettos. "To think he could cause even more havoc."

In the workroom, everyone looks busy, including me, who has to archive all the company's purchase and sale transaction documents. There was no time to think about myself; it's just that several times, I almost lost control every time someone suddenly tapped me on the shoulder. News spread quickly, including Ketty, who warned me several times to be polite to my superiors. What he meant was the big boss after he put the package on the table a few days ago.

I openly refused to give the shirt. I even washed my shirt, which was stained with coffee. I don't know why Mr Johnson is so stubborn. Isn't he so naive? Does he also impose his will on his employees?

"Elizabeth, give this to Mr. Lawren." Ketty gave me several printed files. "I've made the graph; I just have to check it. Now you know that our division is the hell division."

To be more precise, this company is also hell. Because of Mr. Johnson, I had a nightmare.

"... and are you just going to let the gift the boss give you?" Ketty continued, pointing to the package with her chin. "He's single if you're afraid to accept it."

"I'm not interested," I said disapprovingly. "Haven't you heard the rumors that I'm a lesbian?"

Ketty laughed out loud while I left the girl for a moment in Mr. Lawrence's. When I entered this workroom, the atmosphere suddenly changed. My manager seemed to be struggling with some papers, occasionally grumbling and not even noticing the arrival of his employees. I cleared my throat, breaking Mr Lawren, and suddenly he looked up and said,

"Why didn't Kitty take these?"

"Maybe because I'm a junior here, sir," I answered innocently.

"Okay, if that's the case, can you bring me a cup of coffee without sugar? Then, please send these files to Mr. Jhonson's email," asked Mr. Johnson. Lawren handed over a flash disk.

Me? Why should I? Why not him?

"Isn't this the assistant manager's job?" I refused gently when it came to the pushy man.

"You don't want to? Because he gave you--"

"Okay, sir!" I exclaimed, rushing out of the room, which could corner my self-esteem. I'm sure Mr Lawren had heard about last week's incident, which was dramatic and embarrassing.

OK, just sending an email without a meeting should be more accessible. As a subordinate among all employees, I must compose sentences as formally as possible. But my expectations are always wrong. He replied to the email seductively, which annoyed me even more. God, can you eliminate a flirtatious boss like him? I want to work in peace.

I hope you wear the shirt I gave you. And I'm sorry. Can we have lunch together today?

"Wow!" Ketty suddenly, behind me, read Mr. Johnson. I quickly closed the email with a pounding chest that wanted to stick out and dance pompoms because a coffee man seduced me. "You're-so-cool-Elizabeth." He threw a What is meaningful?

What does it mean? Don't look at me like I'm a whore!

"You want to replace me? I can tell him," I snapped and was met with a pinch on the arm.

"You just follow the flow; he might actually..." Ketty lowered her voice in my ear while squinting one of her long eyes.

"Do not expect!"

Usually, I would spend lunch in the canteen with Ketty. This time, I prefer to endure hunger and struggle with work. Besides seeing too many men filling every corner of the restaurant, Mr. Jhonson terrorized me back and forth via text messages and telephone. I don't know what his motive was for him to be so persistent in approaching me.

Is it because of that shirt? Is it because of what happened last week?

I grabbed my cell phone and called Margaretha's doctor to see her personally. There are many things I want to ask about, including my nightmares. In the next second, the low voice of the doctor who had treated my mental health since I was eight years old was heard. I hurriedly went to the small room used to make a cup of coffee.

"Hello, Doc. Are you free this week?"

"What's wrong, Lizzie?"

For a moment, doubt filled my mind: whether to tell him over the phone or meet him in person. However, these dreams affect sleep quality, impacting work ethic. I don't want the effects to be any more comprehensive, especially sudden changes in mood.

"To be honest, I've been having recurring nightmares for a week, Doc. I'm confused... I mean, since working here... it's all come back."

"Oh, I'm sorry... can you sleep after that?"

I shook my head slowly. "No. I often have migraines because I can't sleep well. Can you prescribe me a high dose of medication?"

"Medicine won't always help you, Lizzie. We need to meet; I can come to New York this weekend," suggested Margaretha's doctor.

"No, let me go to Florida, Doc, please!"

"Are you sure? Isn't it too far, Dear?"

"It's okay; I can just go home," I said. "Okay, I have to get back to work."

After hanging up the phone, I almost screamed when a tall figure with a distinctive gaze who wanted to dig into the other side of someone's life was standing for who knows when. At that moment, I wasn't sure if he was eavesdropping on our conversation. As a big boss, shouldn't he be here?

"Why are you wearing a sweater in hot weather like this? Then why have you been having nightmares since you've been here? It's not because of me, right?"

Does he have high sensitivity? It's pretty good if he's sober. I don't need to explain it anymore.

"Why didn't you reply to my message? Are you still avoiding me?"

"Aren't you asking too many questions, sir?" I quipped. "Sorry, I have to go."

Mr Johnson stopped me from leaving. Instead, he went into this small room and closed the door. He leaned against the door, folded his arms, and raised his eyebrows defiantly. Meanwhile, I was shaking, squeezing the hem of my knee-length skirt. I looked around, feeling suffocated, not because the room was narrow but because his presence was intimidating.

"Let's see to what extent I become your nightmare, Ms Khan," hissed Mr Johnson.