The soft hum of keyboards clicking and printers whirring filled the office air as Hazel sat behind her large desk, papers stacked high on either side of her.
Her eyes scanned through reports, contracts, and emails, but her mind was far from focused.
She tried to bury herself in work, telling herself that if she stayed busy enough, she wouldn't have time to think about the unsettling phone call Peter received just a few nights ago — the unknown caller that had stirred her doubts.
Her fingers flew across the keyboard as she approved proposals and signed off on deals.
Her team outside her office worked diligently, oblivious to the storm brewing inside her.
She was known as the strong, focused boss who handled pressure effortlessly — but today, her thoughts were scattered.
Who was that caller?
Why did Peter react so strangely?
Was he hiding something?
She shook her head, trying to banish the invasive thoughts.
"Focus, Hazel," she muttered under her breath, forcing her eyes back onto the screen.
Just then, a soft knock echoed at her office door, pulling her from her spiraling thoughts.
"Come in," she called out, her voice steadier than she felt.
The door opened, and Peter stepped inside, carrying a small bag.
His charming smile was as warm as ever, but Hazel couldn't help but notice the way his eyes quickly scanned her face — as if searching for signs of doubt or distance.
"Brought you lunch," he said, placing the bag gently on her desk.
"I figured you'd be too swamped to even think about food."
Hazel forced a grateful smile. "You figured right."
Peter sat across from her, leaning forward slightly.
"You've been working like crazy lately.
You need to take care of yourself too, Hazel."
"I'm fine, Peter," she answered, trying to keep her tone light.
"Work helps me stay focused."
Focused on not thinking about you, she added silently.
Peter studied her carefully, sensing the tension that still lingered between them. He knew she was still troubled by that phone call.
He had hoped she would let it go, but it was clear the weight of her thoughts hadn't disappeared.
"Hazel," he said softly, "I know that call the other night made you uneasy.
I don't want you to keep worrying. There's nothing going on. You can trust me."
She looked at him, searching his eyes for reassurance.
"I want to believe that, Peter. I really do."
"You can," he insisted gently, reaching out to squeeze her hand.
"We're building something good here. Don't let doubts ruin it."
Hazel nodded, though a tiny voice inside her still whispered warnings.
She didn't want to ruin what they had. She didn't want to chase ghosts.
But the unease sat in her chest like a heavy stone.
Peter stood up with a smile. "Eat your lunch.
I'll see you later tonight, okay?"
"Okay," Hazel replied, her smile returning briefly as he left the room.
But as the door closed, her eyes drifted back to her computer screen, her thoughts once again drifting away from work.
What are you hiding, Peter?
The question echoed in her mind, louder than ever.
Excellent — let's turn up the suspense and keep Hazel walking that fine line between trust and doubt.
Hazel returned to her work, trying once again to drown herself in numbers, documents, and deadlines.
But Peter's words kept circling in her head:
"There's nothing going on. You can trust me."
Then why do I feel like I can't?
She rubbed her temples, exhaling slowly.
She didn't want to become paranoid.
She didn't want to be the insecure woman who couldn't trust her own boyfriend.
But it wasn't just the unknown call.
It was the way Peter froze that night, his entire expression shifting in an instant.
That brief flash of worry in his eyes before he covered it with a smile.
Her thoughts were interrupted when her assistant Sarah walked into the office, holding a folder.
"Miss Hazel, this is the final report you requested for the upcoming investors'
meeting," Sarah said, her usual cheerful voice bringing a small measure of comfort.
Hazel smiled politely. "Thank you, Sarah.
Please send the rest of the updated files before the end of the day."
"Of course," Sarah said, hesitating slightly. "And… Miss Hazel?"
"Yes?"
Sarah lowered her voice. "I… I saw Mr. Peter leave earlier.
" She bit her lip. "He looked… distracted."
Hazel's eyes narrowed slightly. "Distracted? How?"
Sarah fidgeted.
"I don't know. I just… I've never seen him so tense before.
He kept checking his phone like he was waiting for something.
Forgive me for saying this — it's probably nothing."
Hazel forced a calm smile, trying not to let her racing heartbeat show.
"Thank you, Sarah.
You may go."
As Sarah left, closing the door behind her, Hazel sat back in her chair, staring blankly ahead.
Checking his phone? Tense? The tiny seed of doubt that had been planted days ago was now taking deeper root.
Her phone vibrated, snapping her back to reality. She glanced down.
UNKNOWN NUMBER.
Her breath caught.
For a split second, her finger hovered over the screen.
Should she answer?
What if it was just spam?
Or… what if it was connected to Peter?
With a racing pulse, she finally tapped Answer, lifting the phone slowly to her ear.
But on the other end, there was only silence.
Then… a soft click. The call ended.
Hazel's heart pounded.
She stared at the dark screen for a long moment, her mind spinning.
Was it a mistake?
Or a warning?
And most importantly — why did it feel connected to Peter?