Our employer's office was so quiet it felt unnatural. He reviewed the surveillance footage, every transaction record, every access log.

When he finally spoke, his conclusion was unmistakable. I had never sold company secrets. Matthew's accusation was nothing but slander.

I expected relief, maybe even a flicker of guilt. Instead, the people outside stared at me as if they were piecing together a riddle. They looked like they were trying to figure out what I had slipped our employer to make the problem disappear.

If our employer had not repeated his conclusion repeatedly, I doubted anyone would have believed I was innocent.

When I returned to my desk, the tension did not ease. If anything, it thickened.

"Matthew was acting in the company's best interest. So what if Alexander was innocent? Why does he look like we owe him an apology?"

"Exactly. Maybe nothing happened this time. But what about next time? Rumors don't come from nowhere."

I had joined the company and reached top performance almost immediately. Their jealousy had taken root long before this incident. I could see it in their eyes. Now that they finally had an excuse to step on me, why would they let go?

Matthew looked worse than anyone. His face was dark, his desk shoved into a mess. He sat there seething, letting out short, cold snorts as if he were the wronged party.

When his gaze met mine, something in him snapped. He shot to his feet, the chair scraping loudly against the floor.

"Fine, Alexander. I misjudged you. I shouldn't have reported you for the sake of company security. Are you happy now? If you're still not satisfied, I'll resign. I'll disappear completely. Will that be enough for you?"

It sounded like a question, but it was not. Anyone walking in without context would have thought I was the one bullying him.

What caught me most off guard was who stood up next—Selena.

"Alexander, that's too much," she said sharply. "We're all coworkers. Do you really have to push it this far? People make mistakes. No one's perfect. Stop being so aggressive."

She was visibly agitated. Sweat beaded at her temples, and her breathing came fast.

A memory surfaced from college. During a basketball game, a teammate had deliberately rammed into me and knocked me down. She had reacted the same way then, standing up for me with unrestrained anger.

Now she was doing it for another man, one she had barely known for any time at all.

It felt absurd.

I looked at her, then lowered my voice. "I don't understand, Lena. I'm the one who got hurt here. Why are you blaming me? Is he more important than me?"

As soon as the words left my mouth, she fell silent. Her gaze drifted away.

I could not tell whether it was guilt or regret.

She spoke softly, as if afraid someone else might hear. "I just think he hasn't had it easy. You know his parents passed away when he was young. He suffered a lot growing up. He started working so early. You grew up in a happy family. Why do you have to go after him like this?"

So that was it. He had a tragic past, a difficult life. And that meant he could pour all his resentment onto me without consequence.

Her voice stayed low, but every word landed like a blow.

Across the room, I caught the faint, mocking curve of Matthew's smile.

A hollow ache spread through my chest. This was what betrayal felt like when it came from the person closest to you.

My heart throbbed dully. A thousand words crowded my throat, but when I looked at Selena's face, none of them surfaced.

Even if I spoke, what would it change?

That was how things went. People changed.

In the end, I only shook my head and stopped arguing.

After work, we went back home together. The door clicked shut. That was when Selena grabbed me, her fingers clamping around my arm, her voice sharp with frustration.

"What's wrong with you? Why are you targeting him like this? Do you have no empathy at all?" she demanded. "You accused him of framing you in front of everyone. How is he supposed to live with that? Couldn't you just swallow it for once?"

These words came from the woman I had loved for years.

I looked at her again and again, and for the first time, she felt like a stranger.

I did not want to keep fighting. I shook off her hand and turned toward the bedroom, but she stepped in front of me and blocked my path. She demanded an explanation, and we went back and forth, again and again. At last, something inside me snapped.

"And what about me?" I said. "Am I not allowed to feel wronged? You heard what they said about me. What am I supposed to be? If he hadn't used such a dirty trick to frame me, would things have turned out like this?"

She had no answer. She stood there, stunned, her lips parting and closing as she searched for something to say.

After a long pause, she muttered, almost petulantly, "Why are you like this? You never think about other people…"

That told me everything.

Maybe she did not care who was right or wrong at all. She only cared about how Matthew felt.

The air between us grew tight and strange. Then her phone rang, sudden and jarring.

Matthew's weak, unsteady voice came through the speaker. "Lena, am I bothering you? I don't know anyone else here… I fell while getting off the bus on the way home. I twisted my ankle. It's really dark here. Can you come help me?"

A faint sniffle followed, the kind that made your chest ache just hearing it.

Selena's expression changed instantly. Concern flooded her face. "Okay. Stay where you are. Don't move. I'm coming right now."

She hung up without even looking at me. She grabbed her coat from the couch and rushed for the door.

On instinct, I caught her wrist. "It's the middle of the night. Where are you going? Are you even coming back? If something's wrong, he can call a cab or an ambulance. Why does it have to be you?"

She yanked her hand free, as if I had deeply offended her.

"What is wrong with you?" she snapped. "He only knows me in this city. If he doesn't call me, who is he supposed to call? And after how you treated him today, this is me making it up to him for your sake. Stop being ungrateful."

Every word sounded like a verdict. And yet, at that moment, I needed her too.

My hand fell back to my side. I stood there in silence for a long time. In the end, I asked just one thing. "Do you believe me?"

That was all I needed. One sentence. If she said she believed me, I could let everything that happened today go.

I had never wanted an answer more in my life.

What I got instead was disgust.

She picked up a napkin and wiped her hand, as if she had touched something filthy. Then she flicked it at my face.

"You think I don't know you've been bullying him behind my back?" she said coldly. "If I hadn't found out myself, I'd never have known you were this kind of person. And now you're acting pitiful? You make me sick."

The front door slammed hard enough to shake the walls. She was gone.

My vision swam. I braced myself against the couch to keep from collapsing.

I could not accept it.

Was this really the outcome of everything I had held onto for all these years? I had even turned down my family's chance to send me abroad for her. Was any of it ever worth it?