Static And Hush

Dr Kent walked closely behind me with his footsteps barely audible as if mimicking my quick but calm pacing. Immediately we got to the end of the hallway Dr Kent broke the foreboding silence.

“This way,” Dr. Kent murmured. He gestured with his hands directing me towards the end of the hallway where a door stood slightly open.

My gaze turned towards the door, my mind racing with uncertainty. The hallway was silent and the only sound I could hear was the soft echo of our footsteps. As we finally approached the door, Dr. Kent pushed it open revealing a spacious, well-lit and empty conference room ahead of us. The room that was filled with empty silence was broken by Dr Kent's abrupt statement.

"You know, sometimes I envy your father's success. He must have given up a lot of things to get to where he is and he is certainly not the type to hold back. In this industry connection matters and being willing to give up anything would spike the ambitious to the top. Don't you think so?” Dr Kent said. I wanted to roll my eyes so bad but I didn't. This was just the first phase of their tantrums.

"Maybe," I answered with my voice slightly firmer.

"Regardless, I believe that success is based on personal merit and It's not necessarily about who you know or what you're ready to give up on. I believe it's about what you can accomplish." I said in return but I was met with a momentary silence.

Silently, we both walk towards our seats. We had sat opposite each other, a habit I had developed to keep some space between me and naughty old men.  Dr Kent brought out a file from within the locker beneath him placing it on the large desk as we sat down. The silence was broken by the voice of Dr Kent.

“Of course Sofia, I think you're right,” He said in response to what I had said before we sat down. “It’s about what you can offer. And what you can offer can often be… appreciated in different ways.” He said with a flirtatious smile as his eyes lingered on my body.

At this point, it seemed like he wasn't even trying to hide his true intentions. The smile on his face was sickening, I could literally feel my stomach twisted under the thoughts of what might be going on in his silly naughty head.

“Dr. Kent,” I called out softly. “I’m not interested in any kind of personal favors. We’re here to discuss business. Why don't we shift to that instead? I see you've placed the contract file on the desk. Why don't we progress with that? I’m pretty sure you have plenty of people around you who appreciate your genuine support,” I replied to him, deflecting on his flirtatious gestures while trying to sound unfazed by his intimidating gaze.

I ensured that I placed emphasis on the word business, hoping that would  draw the line back, but Dr. Kent just chuckled with his eyes filled with amusement.

“Of course, of course,” he said, raising his hands in mock surrender. But he didn’t step back, instead he leaned in a little closer. “But even in business, Sofia, there’s a certain… appreciation that needs to be shown. You know? A little give and take. After all, what’s business without a little pleasure mixed in?” Dr Kent hinted to something far fetched.

I felt a tightening fear form in my stomach. This isn't me! I'm not usually scared in situations like this. I have encountered many old men just like him and I had my way of dealing with them. The air in the boardroom seemed to thicken, the space between us closing in.

“I think you’re confused, Dr. Kent. You're crossing the line between professionalism and informality,” I said with my voice steady, but my hand softly turned into a fist on my thigh. “I’m not interested in anything other than this deal.” I concluded.

Dr. Kent’s smile didn’t waver. In fact, it grew wider and more dangerous. “You don’t have to be so formal, Sofia. There’s no need to be so cold, we’re not strangers.” He stood up, walking over to the other side to get closer to me.

“I can help you, if you’d like. A woman like you… You deserve to be treated properly, don’t you think? A little recognition for your efforts, maybe a little reward.” He said leaning onto me. I could feel his old man smell all over me .

My heart pounded in my chest; I couldn't take it anymore. His words were crawling and invasive. The tension in the air was already suffocating. I had to stand up taking a step back with my heels clicking softly against the alabaster floor.

“I’m not that kind of woman,” I said with a low but firm voice, my eyes narrowing. "So if that's why we're here, I suggest we cut this conversation short." I stood up in an attempt to walk out but he yelled my name.

“Sofia Vanguard!”

He yelled, his voice echoing through the large empty conference room. I stopped, turning to face him. He was evidently in rage as he had stood in a straightened position.

“You don't work out on me young lady. If you value your father's position in the corporate world then you have to do what I ask you to do!” Dr Kent yelled. His fierce statement was met with my eyes rolling.

Yawn! Old lines. Why can't these old men come up with new lines? Always using old lines on me. I've heard that a million times.

“I am so disappointed in you Dr Kent. I expected more from you. A dignified person in the gutters.” I said as I turned walking towards the door.

Dr Kent was about to yell my name again but his voice had clawed its way up his throat again, that shrill bark of my name already splitting the air—when the door groaned.  

Not a click, not a creak. A “groan”. Like the building itself had been holding its breath.  

Light bled in first—thin, fluorescent hallway glare cutting through the conference room’s dim. Then the shadow. Tall, but hunched. Not lazy. The kind of hunch that says “I own the space. My territory”.

Ethan Reagan didn’t step. He “leaked” into the room, all sharp angles and silence, his boots whispering against carpet like they were apologizing for existing.  

The air got heavier.  

Dr. Kent’s mouth hung open, a wet, half-formed syllable rotting on his tongue. Papers rustled somewhere—someone’s nervous finger twitch—then nothing. Just the hum of the AC choking itself.  

Ethan’s gaze swept the room. Slow. A flick of his wrist adjusted his cufflink, the sound louder than it had any right to be. His tie was crooked. Not messy. Like he’d knotted it during a car crash and hadn’t bothered to fix it after surviving.  

Nobody moved.  

Not when he stopped at the head of the table. Not when he leaned back against the wall, arms folded, one ankle hooked over the other. His stare landed on me. Dr. Kent. The empty chair between us.  

The silence didn’t break.  

It “cracked”.  

But nobody heard it.