Victory

Elliot

The day had dragged on longer than I anticipated, filled with meetings, reports, and the endless balancing act of managing Prescott Industries while keeping my personal agenda running alongside it. By the time the office began to quiet down, most employees had already packed up and left for the weekend.

I leaned back in my chair, stretching my arms above my head, and glanced at my watch. It was late. As I was about to shut my laptop, my eyes wandered toward the glass wall separating my office from the hallway. That’s when I saw her—Susan.

She was standing by the elevator, her posture tense, her phone in one hand as she tapped at the screen with an unusual fervor. Her other hand ran through her hair in frustration. Something was off. She wasn’t her usual composed self.

Without giving it a second thought, I grabbed my suit jacket and headed out.

“Hey, Susan,” I called as I approached her. She startled slightly, as if pulled out of a heavy trance.

“Oh,” she said, quickly shoving her phone into her bag. “Hi, Elliot.”

Her voice was flat, devoid of its usual spark. That only confirmed my suspicion—something was definitely wrong.

“Long day?” I asked, keeping my tone casual.

“You could say that,” she replied, her eyes avoiding mine as she pushed the elevator button again, even though it was already lit.

The elevator was taking forever, and I wasn’t about to let her leave like this.

“Let me give you a ride home,” I offered, stepping closer.

She shook her head. “That’s really not necessary. I’m fine.”

“Come on, Susan,” I pressed, lowering my voice. “It’s late, you look exhausted, and I don’t feel comfortable letting you take public transport like this. Just let me give you a ride. No strings attached.”

She hesitated, chewing on her lower lip as if weighing her options. The stubbornness in her eyes was something I’d grown familiar with, but tonight, it seemed to falter.

“Fine,” she muttered, almost grudgingly.

Victory.

I led her to the parking garage, and we climbed into my car. The silence between us was heavy as I started the engine. I stole a glance at her while reversing out of the spot—her arms were crossed, her gaze fixed on the window, but there was an unmistakable tension in her jaw.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I ventured as we merged onto the road.

“About what?” she asked, her tone defensive.

“Whatever’s clearly bothering you.”

“I told you, I’m fine,” she snapped, but her voice cracked slightly.

I didn’t push. Susan was like a fortress—pushing too hard would only make her walls higher. So I let the silence stretch, letting her take control of the conversation if and when she wanted to.

After a few minutes, I noticed her glancing at me out of the corner of her eye. Finally, she sighed, the sound heavy with defeat.

“It’s my rent,” she said quietly, her voice barely audible over the hum of the engine.

I frowned. “Your rent?”

She nodded, staring down at her hands in her lap. “It’s due in a week, and I don’t have the money to pay it. The landlord isn’t exactly the patient type. I thought I’d be fine, but... I can only access my payment from Prescott Industries once my contract is complete. Until then, I’m stuck.”

Her vulnerability hit me like a punch to the gut. I’d never seen her like this—open, raw, and struggling. And the fact that she’d chosen to confide in me, even reluctantly, felt like a crack in the walls she’d so carefully built around herself.

“Why didn’t you say anything sooner?” I asked gently.

She scoffed bitterly. “To who, Elliot? Who was I supposed to tell? Besides, I didn’t want to... I don’t know, look like I couldn’t handle my own life.”

Her words stung more than they should have. I hated that she felt this way, hated that she thought she had to shoulder everything alone.

“You don’t have to go through this by yourself,” I said, my tone firm.

She shook her head. “I’ll figure it out. I always do.”

We stopped at a red light, and I turned to look at her. “Susan, you don’t have to prove anything to anyone. Least of all to me. Let me help.”

She laughed humorlessly. “Help how, Elliot? Are you going to pay my rent for me?”

“If that’s what it takes,” I said without hesitation.

Her head snapped toward me, her eyes wide with a mix of shock and indignation. “Absolutely not,” she said sharply. “I’m not some charity case.”

“I didn’t say you were,” I replied calmly. “But you’re also not alone in this. We’re not just colleagues, Susan. Whether you like it or not, I care about you. And I’m not going to stand by and watch you struggle when I can do something about it.”

Her lips parted as if to argue, but no words came out. For a moment, she just stared at me, her expression unreadable.

“Look,” I continued, softening my tone. “If it makes you uncomfortable, think of it as a loan. You can pay me back whenever you’re ready. No pressure.”

She frowned, her gaze dropping to her hands again. I could see the internal battle playing out on her face—pride versus practicality.

Finally, she let out a long, resigned sigh. “I’ll think about it,” she muttered.

It wasn’t the answer I wanted, but it was a start.

By the time we reached her apartment, the tension between us had eased slightly. She unbuckled her seatbelt and turned to me, her expression softer than it had been all night.

“Thanks for the ride,” she said quietly.

“Anytime,” I replied, meeting her gaze. “And Susan... you’re not alone. Remember that.”

She didn’t respond, but the faintest hint of a smile tugged at the corner of her lips before she climbed out of the car and disappeared into her building.

As I drove away, I felt an odd mix of emotions—satisfaction that she’d let me in, even just a little, and frustration that she still insisted on carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders.

But one thing was certain: I wasn’t going to give up on her. Not now, not ever.