Chelsea dragged me away despite my protests.

It wasn't until we returned to the office, with no one else around, that Chelsea let go of me and asked, "Why were you sitting with her for lunch? That woman's a lunatic!"

Before, Chelsea suddenly acting meek and pulling me away had already left me baffled. Now, I was even more confused.

"Who is she? What's her deal? And what's yours?"

Chelsea smiled.

"Cynthia, from HR. She's a bitter woman…"

Cynthia, Chelsea explained, had been working in the HR department for many years, and had turned thirty-eight this year. She'd taken time off for marriage leave, maternity leave, postpartum depression, and working remotely.

She had been out of the office for almost two straight years.

She used to be a normal person, but ever since coming back, something had changed. Now, whenever she came across a female colleague, she always asked about their marital status.

If she heard complaints, she beamed with joy and encouraged them to maintain the present status.

But if she heard about a happy family, her face darkened instantly, and she started reprimanding them and trying to encourage them to divorce.

The more Chelsea spoke, the darker her expression grew.

"Before you got back from your trip, she asked me too… All I said was that my boyfriend treated me pretty well, and she flipped out on me."

As she spoke, Chelsea showed me a large purple bruise on her hand.

"See this? That lunatic did this. It still hasn"t fully healed… Don"t pay her any mind. Treat her like a barking dog. Next time you see her, steer clear."

I felt disgusted just hearing it. I'd been at this company for two years and had just returned from a month-long business trip. Everything was fine before. But now?

"She asked me if I was married, and when I said I wasn't planning on it, she flipped out…" I said. "She can't stand seeing you all happy, and she can't stand me avoiding the misery of marriage. She's absolutely deranged!"

"Exactly!" Chelsea sneered. "Some colleagues noticed her odd behavior and did some digging. Turns out, the past two years have been rough for her.

"She's getting older, her child isn't in the best health, and her own recovery has been problematic.

"Her mother-in-law cared for her during her postpartum period, but it was unprofessional and uncomfortable. On top of that, her mother-in-law and husband fought constantly. That's how the postpartum depression started. I heard things are still tense at home."

Chelsea couldn't help but curse under her breath.

"It's a sad story, but that psycho has no right to take it out on us! Just because she's unhappy doesn't mean everyone else should be too. There's something wrong with her head!"

I was utterly disgusted. But Cynthia was just being crazy, taking her frustrations out on everyone. As nauseating as it was, there was no point in arguing with someone like that.

I decided to swallow my frustration and steer clear of her.

However, although I wanted nothing to do with her, she wouldn't leave me alone! Three days after that lunch, I had worked late, leaving the office at ten. By the time I got home with some ready-to-eat meals, it was nearly eleven.

Exhausted, I went upstairs and was about to unlock my door when I heard a gruff male voice behind me.

"Do you live in 402? Are you Emily Blunde?"

Startled, I turned around.

Standing in the shadow of the staircase leading to the next floor was a short, stocky man. He startled me so much I took a step back.

"Who are you? Do I know you?"

The stocky man stepped closer, looking me up and down before breaking into a grin.

"Hey, you look just like your photo. It's rare to see a woman who isn't a catfish these days! Not bad. It's worth the trip!"

As he spoke, the man suddenly reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of contraceptives.

"Hurry up and open the door. Let me have a test run before we consider getting married!"

He held up the contraceptives and moved closer as if he was about to embrace me. I panicked, ducked down to avoid him, and swung my bag to knock his hand away.

"Stop right there! Don't come any closer, or I'll call the police!" I shouted.

The man chuckled.

"Call the police for what? Aren't you just a desperate spinster? I'm doing you a favor for free. Stop pretending. Just open the door already..."

As he spoke, he puckered his lips and leaned in to kiss me.

I ducked again and swung my bag at his face.

Perhaps because he was fat and padded with flesh, the impact didn't faze him at all. He only paused for a moment before reaching out to grab me.

I hadn't expected that my full-force swing would have no effect.

Before I could react, he had caught hold of my hair. With a yank, he slammed me against the wall.

The motion looked casual, but the dull thud echoed loudly as my head smacked against the wall. Pain shot through me instantly, leaving me weak and disoriented. My heart sank.

I had underestimated him and the difference in strength between men and women. I should have gone all out and attacked his weakest point from the start. But now, it was too late.

My head throbbed painfully, and I felt dazed.

The man looked me up and down, groped me briefly, then snatched the keys from my hand.

"Let's get inside. Things will be easier when you're lying down..."

I lived in an old apartment complex with two doors. I had a large set of keys and he couldn't immediately tell which one to use. He had to go through the keys one at a time.

Biding my time, I forced myself to endure the pain, took a deep breath, and screamed at the top of my lungs: "Help! Call the police!"

Struggling wouldn't help. Crying for help was my only option. I yelled with all my strength, twice in a row.

Focused on unlocking the door, the man jumped in surprise at my sudden outburst. He turned back abruptly and covered my mouth.

"What are you screaming for? Are you crazy? I'm here to help you..."

Before he could finish, I turned my head and bit down on his hand as hard as I could.

He yelped in pain and reflexively let go.

Seizing the opportunity, I took another deep breath and screamed again.

This was an old apartment complex with few residents, mostly elderly people. But I remembered that the young couple living downstairs kept similar hours to mine.

My voice was loud enough—they had to hear me. They would definitely help me. The thought drove me to scream even louder.

Meanwhile, the man recovered from the pain of my bite and turned toward me.

He tried to pin me down again. But before he could, footsteps could be heard from the floor below. The steps grew louder and quicker.

Relief surged through me, and my heart finally eased.

'I'm safe!'

But then an icy chill ran down my spine, and despair took hold again as I saw my rescuer.

A tall man had appeared at the top of the stairs. But it wasn't the man from the couple downstairs. It was a stranger.

He looked at me and said, "402? Are you Emily?"

The first man had said the exact same thing when he showed up.

'They were after the same thing!'

Before I could process it, the tall man grinned as his eyes roamed over me.

"Not bad. You're pretty, with a good figure... Hard to believe you'd be single. Oh well, it doesn't matter. Tonight, I'll take good care of you!"

With that, he took two steps toward me.