CHAPTER SEVEN: I’m changing.

It looked the same. Felt the same.

She felt something crawl under her skin. A slow, prickling awareness, like stepping into a space just after someone had been talking about her.

Maybe it was the way people glanced at her—not with excitement or surprise. But warier. Like they didn’t know whether to acknowledge her or pretend they hadn’t seen her at all.

Or maybe it was her. The girl by the checkout.

Petite. Brunette. Bright eyes that sparkled easily in the way she beamed at everyone she passed. The kind of smile that screamed ‘first day’, too sun-shiny, too eagerly, almost like she was trying to make a good impression.

She laughed at something one of the cashiers said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she slid a barcode over the scanner. There was a smoothness in her conversation with them, a familiarity Niya had never had with her coworkers.

Not that they were unfriendly. She’d just never been part of the casual back-and-forth that came naturally to people who'd worked here. But she had belonged. At least, she thought she had.

“Impossible. If you stick around long enough, this place will steal it. But lucky for you…” Niya’s gaze lowered to the tall, lanky guy leaning on the counter with arms crossed. “I can teach you how to survive.”

Carter.

She chuckled softly. “Oh?”

“Experience.” Carter tapped his chest. “I’ve been here for years. I know all the tricks, the managers’ weak points, and most importantly…” He lowered his voice like he was about to share a classified secret. “How to get away with doing the least amount of work.”

The young woman giggled, her short fingers flew to tuck her hair behind her ear, as she continued shaking her head, but her cheeks had obviously stained a lighter shade. “Sounds like a real skill set.”

“Damn right it is,” a smirk stretched his upper lip. “And for a small fee—say, your number—I’d be happy to share my wisdom.” 

Niya exhaled sharply through her nose. Same Carter with the same dumb joke or ridiculous story. Annoyingly good at making people laugh, he had a way of sensually flirting with every new girl that set foot in the store. He was never outright sleazy, just smooth enough to make it all seem harmless. 

And as much as Niya hated to admit it, he was funny. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t disgusted just thinking about it.

“...hmm, what if I figure it out myself?”

“Ouch, Angel,” Carter placed a hand over his heart. “That would hurt me deeply… if I had a heart.”

Niya rolled her eyes and kept walking. It wasn’t her business. Right now, all that mattered was talking to Mr. Don.

She breezed by the aisles, the squirming glances continued, quick looks from coworkers who turned away the second she met their eyes. It took more nerve than she expected not to shrink under it.

By the time she reached the back office, her pulse was knocking against her ribs.

Niya's eyes dragged forward until they landed on the solid wooden door before she got to it. The nameplate on the side was slightly crooked, the way it had always been because no one could be bothered to straighten it.

But the quiet. She thought it wasn’t normal. The office was never quiet. Usually, there was a constant buzz, drawers slamming, Mr. Don yelling at someone over the phone. Now, the silence felt unnatural. But Niya still couldn't pinpoint why the feeling kept nudging at her.

She swallowed, clearing her throat. She knew she had to be smart and quick about this. She needed a job, not an argument.

Just walk in, apologize, ask if he’ll take you back. Simple.

She inhaled, straightened her shoulders, and reached for the handle.

“Oh, hey!” A deep voice forced her to freeze, fingers halted just before they met the door. 

Niya whipped around.

“You left your—” 

His scruffy beard was shorter than she remembered, and the dark circles under his widened brown eyes looked worse, but he was still Todd—broad-shouldered, slightly hunched, like Quasimodo from The Hunchback of Notre Dame.

He held out a work badge.

Not hers. Obviously.

As he stepped closer, the name printed on it became clearer, ‘Emma.’

She opened her mouth to speak, though she wasn’t sure what, but Todd was already backing away, nodding awkwardly before turning on his heel.

Weird.

Her fingers curled into fists. The office door swung open behind her. Niya barely had time to step forward before someone nearly bumped into her.

The woman, probably in her struggling twenties, had full brows drawn together. Her short black hair contrasted with the slightly smudged eyeliner beneath her eyes. She adjusted the clipboard in her hands and muttered, “Excuse me,” before pushing past Niya, hurrying toward Todd, catching up just as he turned the corner.

Niya barely moved. Normally, she would have stepped aside before being asked, maybe even muttered an apology out of habit, a reflex she’d never questioned. But now her feet remained rooted to the spot, watching the woman disappear down the aisle.

It was like seeing herself from the outside, realizing how much she'd crawled from underneath her skin. She’d have stammered out an "Oh, sorry" without thinking. Just like she never would have imagined standing up to her grandmother, yet she had.

Everything inside her moved in normal time, but around her, it was in slow motion. 

Now Niya could hear and see everything. 

Stacks of papers were piled haphazardly on the desk, some yellowing at the edges, while some with curled corners. A stained coffee cup, chipped on the edge wobbled precariously atop a mound of torn brown folders, threatening to tip over at the slightest disturbance. 

The overhead fan spun lazily with a sluggish whomp-whomp-whomp, rattling every few seconds as if it's struggling to stay attached to the holder.

It shouldn’t have surprised her. 

The office smelled like burnt coffee and old receipts, the scent so ingrained that Niya almost found it comforting.

At least it was better than cedarwood and citrus that clung to his clothes like a second skin. Or the tingling smell of crisp banknotes and leather seats. It always made her think of his watch and large garage.

“Argh,” she groaned inwardly, standing at the threshold for a second longer than necessary. Maybe being here wasn’t so bad if it might help her filter her memories.

“Uh…Mr. Don?” Her voice rang out softly, barely scraping the static hum settling in her stomach.

He barely spared her a glance, but the corner of his lips twitched up. “Hmm?”

“I—” She straightened, instinctively wiping her palms on her jeans. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“Right. Hold on—hey! Where’s that report?” He suddenly leaned back in his chair, neck craning as he bellowed toward the door behind him. “LISA! Get them here before I lose my mind.”

Niya swallowed. Okay.

Mr. Don turned to his desk, shuffling through a mountain of crumpled receipts, invoices, and stray sticky notes. He gestured vaguely, not even looking up. “What do you need, Kendrick? I’m a little busy here.”

Niya tightened her fists. “I wanted to—”

“LISA!” Mr. Don’s voice boomed again, this time, Niya could literally see him breathing smoke, effectively cutting her off.

In less than a second later, the same young woman whom she'd bumped into on her way in rushed into the office breathless from the other door, the same clipboard clutched to her chest. 

“Sir,” she started, “the sales—” 

Mr. Don snatched it from her hands with a scoff.

Lisa gasped.

“It wasn’t so hard for you to blab in Mikaelson’s presence and earn us an untimely audit, was it?” He hissed, flipping through the pages with the exact urgency of a man skimming a death sentence. His eyes darted over the numbers before he let out a dry chuckle. “Great work, Whistleblower. Really outdid yourself this time.”

Lisa’s lips parted, then shut just as quickly. Her hands trembled slightly, fingers curling at her sides before she swallowed and turned to leave.

Niya’s eyes followed her. She didn’t know much about Mikaelson except that he owned the supermarket, one of many across the state. He wasn’t the type to show up often, and yet, somehow, Lisa had gotten close enough to be talking to him.

Niya wasn't sure how. But she did know one thing—Lisa’s situation with Mr. Don didn’t look pretty.

“Call Claire Waters. I need an update on those supplier issues.” Mr. Don flicked his eyes up, stopping her in her tracks.

Lisa nodded quickly, disappearing out the door.

Niya cleared her throat for the one hundredth time, then dragged in air through her nostrils. “Mr. Don, I wanted—”

“Jesus Christ!”

The sudden outburst nearly sent Niya leaping backward. Her breath gushed out of her mouth, stomach plummeting at the sheer volume of his voice.

Mr. Don shot forward in his chair, hands darting out just in time to grab his coffee cup before it could tip over completely. The liquid sloshed, spilling over the rim and staining the edge of the clipboard…and his shirt. He let out an exaggerated sigh, staring at the mess like it had personally offended him.

Slowly, he dragged his gaze up to Niya. Menacing.

“Mr. Don. Mr. Don. Don. Fucking Don.”

Niya stiffened. It wasn’t her fault. Was it?

The cup had been balancing on an unstable stack of old, torn folders—if anything, she was surprised it hadn’t toppled over sooner.

He huffed, waved a dismissive hand before leaning back into his chair, eyes pinching shut for a second. “You say?”

Niya wet her lips. “Mr… I didn't mean to submit my…”

But before she could get the sentence out, he was already dialing a number on his phone, checking his watch, scribbling something on the stained report before tossing it onto the already overflowing pile on his shelf.

A loud, if not exaggerating sigh left him as he finally focused his attention on her.

“You have exactly two minutes, Kendrick. Make it quick. My outfit’s ruined. It’s my damn anniversary’s.”

She opened her mouth, and this time, he actually listened.

**********

Niya didn’t wait for permission this time, she shoved the door open before Mr. Don could.

Her pulse was all over the place, loud in her ears, like she’d just run a mile even though she hadn’t moved much. Her chest felt tight, like someone had tied a rope around her ribs and kept pulling. She swallowed, but it didn’t help.