HR business

After a quick stop at home to change into something a little more professional, I head to campus to start what I assume will be a normal workday. My morning begins with a one-on-one meeting : a support session with a first-year student who's been struggling to adapt to university life. She's bright, curious, maybe a little overwhelmed, but I see potential in her. I started doing one-on-one teaching for money, but I ended up enjoying it. The session runs long, and by the time I finally make it back to my office, I'm already ten minutes behind on everything else I had planned.

Amy is waiting for me, perched on the edge of my desk with her arms crossed, holding something in her hand. The look on her face tells me immediately that my day is about to get worse.

She raises an eyebrow as she hands me an envelope. "You've been summoned by HR."

I blink. "What? Why?"

She shrugs, not looking any more informed than I am. "I don't know. The letter just says something like, 'Due to your recent behavior and its impact on your professional responsibilities…'" She trails off with a wince. "You know, one of those."

I groan. My anxiety flares instantly, sharp and hot in my chest. "They can't fire me for being sick," I mutter, though I'm not sure I believe it. 

This is the only thing I can think of : my endometriosis. I take the envelope with trembling fingers. The paper feels heavier than it should, thick with something I don't understand yet. My name's typed in a cold, formal font on the front. It might as well be a death sentence.

I don't read it further. Instead, I walk, my feet dragging with every step, toward the HR office. The hallway feels longer than usual. Every thud of my boots on the tile echoes too loud. The door to HR is closed, but even from outside, I can hear raised voices coming from within : David's voice, sharp and unmistakably angry, and someone else, responding with clipped authority.

I announce myself to the secretary, who gives me a tight, uncomfortable smile. She doesn't say anything, just nods and gestures to wait.

A few seconds later, the door swings open hard, and the head of HR steps out. Her expression is tense and unreadable.

"Come in."

David is already inside, standing in the corner with his arms crossed. His jaw is tight, his entire posture radiating restrained fury. The head of HR gestures to the chair across from her desk. I sit.

Without a word, she opens a folder and lays it flat on the desk in front of me. My stomach flips the moment I see what's inside.

Photos.

Dozens of them.

David carrying me, asleep, across a room. David shirtless in his kitchen while I sit at the table. The two of us in his car, in his office, in front of my apartment. Him drawing the curtains in my living room. Every angle is carefully chosen. Every moment is perfectly incriminating. Nearly a photo a day, all taken without our knowledge. It's like someone has been documenting our entire lives, assembling a timeline of every private moment we've had over the last few weeks.

My blood turns to ice.

"Who took these?!" My voice breaks. I'm shaking.

She doesn't answer immediately. Instead, she folds her hands on the desk and leans forward slightly. "The real question is: what exactly is going on between you two? Did you receive any unfair advantage during your degree? Were grades altered because of your relationship?"

David moves before I can even react. He strides forward, snatches the photos off the desk, and examines them as if he could somehow burn through them with sheer willpower.

"Our relationship is new," he says, his voice low but controlled. "And frankly, it's none of your business. Deirdre earned her position because she's one of the most competent researchers in the department. No one in the lab would question her place. Not one person. And that…" he holds up the photos, "this is what you should be focusing on. Someone is stalking her. Someone is following her. Someone took pictures of us inside my house. And your first question is about favoritism?"

She looks flustered. "I… We didn't know it was that bad. The photos arrived anonymously. There was no name, no return address."

David lets out a harsh sigh and takes a step back. Then, without warning, he crosses the room and pulls me into his arms. I don't resist. I can't. My entire body is frozen in disbelief. I'm not alone, but it doesn't matter. Whoever's doing this, whoever's behind it, they aren't going to stop. If they can't hurt me physically, they'll destroy my career. They'll take everything I've worked for and rip it out from under me.

We are placed on remote work effective immediately. We will still come in to teach our classes, those are harder to shift online, but anything else can be done from home. For now, it's the only safe option.

We leave the office in silence. David's hand never leaves my back. He's fuming. I'm numb.

We part briefly to gather our things from our respective offices. I take only what I need, my laptop, charger, notebooks, and a few important documents. When I meet him outside his office, he already has his bag slung over one shoulder, his keys in hand.

We leave together, walking in silence to the car.

Once we're parked outside my apartment, we sit there for a few seconds, both of us staring ahead, unsure of what to say. Amy isn't home yet. The idea of sleeping here tonight makes my skin crawl.

I turn to him. "Can I come stay with you?"

His eyes soften, just a little. "I was about to ask you. I can't stomach the thought of you alone right now."

I smile, but it's tired, shaky. "Give me five minutes."

I leave my bag in the car and head upstairs. The apartment feels cold, unfamiliar. I shove a few clothes and toiletries into an overnight bag, grab my pillow, because of course I can't sleep without my own pillow, and head back down.

David is waiting. The passenger door's unlocked. The engine is running. And for the first time today, I feel like I can breathe.

As we drive away, I glance back just once at the apartment building. There's no one outside. No suspicious cars. No cameras that I can see.

But I still feel watched.

And somehow, I know this isn't over.