The Slap That End 18 Years novel Chapter 5

**Inside the Fading Emerald Shadows Quiet Storms**
by Livia T. Rynn

The following day at the office, the atmosphere was charged with a palpable buzz, as if the very air crackled with intrigue. Whispers and laughter echoed through the breakroom like a contagious melody, each voice adding to the growing symphony of gossip.

“Can you believe it? Joseph and Yvonne are officially an item!” The words ricocheted off the walls, drawing attention from every corner of the room.

As I strolled past with my steaming cup of coffee, I caught a glimpse of Yvonne standing on her tiptoes, her delicate fingers deftly adjusting Joseph’s tie. The sunlight streaming through the window caught her freshly painted cherry-red nails, making them gleam like tiny jewels against the backdrop of the mundane office.

“Joe,” she cooed in a voice dripping with sweetness, “how about we hit up my favorite restaurant tonight to celebrate this new chapter?”

Joseph’s eyes, usually so warm and inviting, flicked over her shoulder and locked onto mine. For a brief moment, I saw a flicker of panic in his expression. He attempted to step back, but Yvonne, ever the bold one, wrapped her arm around his neck, pulling him closer.

She turned to me, her grin wide and triumphant, as if she had just struck gold in a game of chance. I felt a knot tighten in my stomach, a mix of disbelief and something darker.

Back at my desk, my phone buzzed incessantly, the group chat lighting up with a flurry of messages.

[I heard Yvonne arrived in Mr. Shaw’s car this morning.]
[I saw a hickey on her neck.]
[Is Ms. Chandler going to be okay?]

With a sigh, I closed the chat, memories of last month’s team dinner flooding back. I could still hear Yvonne’s voice, bold and unapologetic, as she raised her glass high and declared, “I really don’t like being around women. They’re always so loud and chatty.”

She had been leaning casually against Joseph’s chair, her body language radiating confidence. “It’s just so much better hanging out with guys. They don’t have fragile egos like some girls, and you can say whatever you want without worrying about feelings.”

The moment she finished her tirade, the other women in the office exchanged knowing glances, their expressions a mix of sympathy and disdain.

The very next morning, Yvonne took to social media with a post that dripped with faux vulnerability: [Getting iced out by the girls at work again. I guess telling the truth just gets you excluded.]

Accompanying her words was a picture of the exquisite Bulgari necklace Joseph had gifted her, a token of his affection meant to soothe her bruised ego.

Later that day, I found myself curled up on the sofa, pouring my heart out to my parents. My mother, her hands busy arranging a vibrant bouquet, paused to snip a thorn off a rose. “I’ve encountered plenty of women like her,” she said thoughtfully. “Just be careful, sweetie. Don’t get too close, or you might end up getting hurt…”

Suddenly, Joseph’s voice sliced through the air from the hallway. “Mrs. Chandler, isn’t it wrong to talk about someone behind their back?”

He stood there, a basket of fruit from his father in hand, but his eyes were as cold as ice, sending a shiver down my spine.

The living room fell into an uncomfortable silence, the only sound being the sharp snipping of flower scissors. In that moment, I realized that I had likely sealed my fate in his eyes, transforming into the petty, gossipy girl while Yvonne basked in the glow of his admiration as the pure, genuine ideal.

As the days passed, I heard the whispers from coworkers, the narrative evolving into one of a deep “friendship” between Joseph and Yvonne.

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