If the mountain won't come...

Rachel sat at her desk, her fingers tapping restlessly against the keyboard. She'd smashed all her work targets last week. All the things she'd originally planned to do for the rest of the month, were already done. They'd celebrated on Friday, her team amazed by the sudden surge of progress. Somehow, though, she wasn't satisfied. Sure, she could work ahead, do more—but that wasn't it. The morning sun streamed through the office window, but its warmth didn’t ease the burning frustration simmering in her chest.

Jack. She couldn’t stop thinking about him. Why hadn’t he texted her back properly? She had poured her heart out to him—admitted things she would never tell anyone else—and he’d left her on read for hours. When he had finally replied, it was almost worse than him not replying at all.

“That’s great, Rachel. Glad you’re having fun.”

Fun? That's it?! Was that all he had to say after everything? The secret she’d shared, the vulnerability she’d exposed... She cringed at the memory. She had sounded so ****, practically begging for his approval, for something more. And all he gave her was that empty, indifferent reply. She felt like a fool.

Her gaze dropped to her outfit—an unusually short skirt for a Monday morning, paired with a blouse unbuttoned just enough to show a sliver of her matching bra. It was bold for her, even reckless, but she couldn’t stop herself. She wanted to embrace it. Especially after how Jack had looked at her the last time. It had felt so good, in a way. She had shown him the lacy surprise under her clothes, let him see her in full, with the lights on, like she hadn’t let anyone in years. And he had seemed so pleased, so happy with her—until she had messed it up, sent him away. She’d been scared. Insecure. Now, she was paying the price. Fuck.

Rachel sighed, staring out the window as her mind wandered. Jack hadn’t even bothered to ask her to catch up in person since then. He was probably off doing God knows what, completely ignoring her. Why? What had she done?

Her phone buzzed on her desk, jolting her from her thoughts. She glanced at it, hoping for a message from Jack, but instead, it was some stupid discount coupon notification from one of her apps. Frustrated, she almost threw her phone back on the desk. She hunched over, put her arms across her desk, and rested her head down on top. Darkness. She just needed a moment. Suddenly, she heard the soft shuffle of footsteps approaching. She looked up to see Veronica standing by her desk.

Rachel blinked, taken aback by the strange, almost uneasy look on her colleague's face. Veronica was rarely ever so... quiet.

“Hey,” Veronica said, placing a folder of documents in front of her. “Would you be able to take a look at these today before we send them out?”

“Sure,” Rachel replied, her voice clipped, her mind still preoccupied with Jack. As Veronica turned to leave, Rachel couldn't hold it in any longer. She blurted out, as casually as she could muster, “By the way, have you heard from Jack lately? He promised he’d include you in the experiment too, right?”

Veronica hesitated, glancing over her shoulder. “Actually, yeah,” she said, almost reluctantly. “I stayed at his place last night.”

Rachel’s eyes went wide, her heart dropping into her stomach. “Wait—what?”

Realizing how it sounded, Veronica quickly added, “No, no, it wasn’t like that. There was... a break-in at my apartment. I didn’t feel safe staying there, and Jack offered to let me crash at his place for a bit.”

Rachel stared at her, struggling to process the words. The initial sting of jealousy ebbed slightly, now accompanied by an unexpected wave of empathy. Veronica, always so in control, seemed... rattled.

Without thinking, Rachel stood up and crossed the room. She wrapped her arms around Veronica in a tight hug, feeling her colleague stiffen slightly before awkwardly patting her back. They weren’t the hugging type, but this felt different. Veronica needed this.

When Veronica pulled away and left, Rachel found herself alone again, her mind racing. So, Jack had been busy—but not with her.

A pang of something she didn’t want to name shot through her. She bit her lip, staring at the closed office door. She couldn’t keep doing this—waiting for him to reach out, waiting for him to notice her again. No. If Jack wasn’t going to come to her, she’d go to him.

Tonight, after work, she’d visit him. She’d make him see her. And this time, she wouldn’t push him away.