During the funeral, a raven landed on the girl’s coffin. A second later, everyone present went SPEAK…

The next day’s cold wind cut through her coat, the gray sky mirroring her mood. The world felt hostile. Emily trudged to the office, each step a struggle, anxiety tightening her chest. “I have to talk to him today. I have to,” she told herself. Michael’s silence since her message gnawed at her.

She swiped her badge at the office entrance and headed to her desk. Colleagues prepped for the day, grabbing coffee, discussing reports. “Hey, Emily!” Sarah waved, holding a paper coffee cup. “You left so fast yesterday. Everything okay?”

“Yeah, fine,” Emily mumbled, brushing past. “Wait, I want to talk!” Sarah called, but Emily kept walking.

Her heart raced. The hallway to Michael’s office stretched endlessly. She paused, second-guessing, but pressed on. At his door, she froze, then knocked three times.

“Come in!” Michael’s voice rang out.

She gripped the handle, took a deep breath, and entered. Her heart skipped. Michael sat at his desk, his shirt crisp, flipping through a report. But beside him stood Abigail.

“Well, perfect timing,” Abigail said, her smile dripping with venom. Emily’s stomach churned.

“I need to speak with Michael,” Emily said, striving for firmness.

“No need,” Abigail cut in, handing her an envelope. “Emily, you’re fired.”

The room fell silent. “What?” Emily whispered, disbelieving. “Why?”

“For failing to meet company standards,” Abigail said sweetly, tossing her hair. “It’s all in the documents. Sign them and clear out your things.”

Emily’s eyes pleaded with Michael, waiting for him to speak, to look at her, to explain. But he stayed focused on his papers, unmoving. “Michael!” she cried, her voice breaking. “You’re just going to sit there?”

He froze, his fingers tightening on the report, but he didn’t look up. “There’s nothing more to discuss,” Abigail said coolly. “You understand this is over, don’t you?”

Rain lashed the sidewalks, turning them into mirrors. People hurried under umbrellas, but Emily walked slowly, oblivious to the cold and wet. The box of her belongings soaked through, its corners buckling. Water dripped from her hair, mingling with tears.

The street was as gray as her thoughts. She stopped by a lamppost, clutching the box tighter. “What do I do now? How do I go on?” Passersby ignored her, just another woman lost in her troubles.

Her key fumbled in the lock, hands trembling. On the third try, the door opened. She stepped inside, shedding her wet coat onto the floor. Her hair clung to her face, but she didn’t bother fixing it. Setting the box by the door, she shuffled to the kitchen.

The apartment was dark and quiet, save for the dull patter of rain outside. Emily sat at the table, head in her hands, staring into nothingness. “He’s despicable. He didn’t even try to explain.”

Ten minutes later, she forced herself to move. Her gaze fell on her phone. She hesitated but checked it. Fifteen missed calls from Michael.

“Seriously?” she said aloud, staring at the screen. “Now you call?” The phone buzzed again—Michael. “No.” She rejected the call and muted it. It buzzed again moments later.

“Enough!” she shouted, standing. She grabbed the phone and powered it off.

In the bathroom, she stripped off her soaked clothes and stepped into a hot shower. Warm water cascaded over her, thawing her chilled body, but the inner pain remained. Later, wrapped in a blanket at the kitchen table, she held a mug of tea that had gone cold. She couldn’t bring herself to drink.

A loud knock startled her. She froze, thinking it was a neighbor, but it came again, more forceful. “Emily, open the door! We need to talk!” Michael’s voice called.

Her heart clenched. “Open up, please!” he knocked again. “Let me explain!”..