The Red String Between Us Part II: Frayed Threads

第37章 37Whispers in the Halls

      The ambiance of the office had always been a comfort to me—the shuffle of papers, telephones ringing, the muted footsteps in the corridor. But lately, there was a new undercurrent to the sound. Whispers. Hushed conversations, and as the CEO it wasn't sitting well with me.

At first, I brushed it off. Aoki Global was a massive organization; gossip was inevitable. But after the third time I caught the words Kenji and Mallory spoken in a half-laugh, half-whisper, the knot in my chest grew heavier.

I paused outside the glass walls of a conference room one afternoon, papers in hand. Inside, two managers lingered after a meeting, their voices low but not low enough.

"They've known each other since childhood," one murmured. "It wouldn't surprise me if the board's pushing for them to... you know... rekindle things. They look good together. Strong optics for the company."

My grip on the folder tightened until the edges bit into my palms. I forced myself to move, walking briskly down the hall, pretending I hadn't heard a thing. But the words clung to me, sharp and unshakable.

Later, in the quiet of my office, Kenji stopped by under the guise of reviewing a proposal. He leaned against my desk, his presence as grounding as ever. But even as I looked at him—his easy confidence, the way his eyes softened just for me—the echo of the whispers gnawed at me.

"They're talking," I finally admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

His brow furrowed. "About what?"

"About you and Mallory. About... optics." I stared down at the papers, my throat tight. "They think the two of you make sense."

Kenji pushed off the desk, moving closer until he stood in front of me. His hand brushed over mine, steady and deliberate. "Eden," he said firmly, "let them talk. What me and Mallory had is done."

I looked up, my chest aching with the weight of the situation. "How "done" are you? you never told me you were engaged before" I trailed off.

Kenji's face turned slightly confused, forcing my gaze to meet his. His eyes held none of the doubt that plagued me. "Because it was another part of my past that hold no significance to the person I am now. A lot of my decisions back hen were influenced by family or media, so I don't acknowledge that part of me, because it hold no power now. I don't care what they see. What matters is what I feel. And I need you to trust that I'm yours, no matter what picture anyone else tries to paint."

The sincerity in his voice eased something tight in me, though not entirely. I nodded, squeezing his hand. "I do trust you. It's not you I doubt—it's the story everyone else will believe."

His thumb brushed across my knuckles, soft and certain. "Then let them believe what they want. We'll write our own story. Quietly, if we must. But together."

The words were steady, confident. And yet, as he kissed my forehead before slipping out of my office, I couldn't shake the lingering sound of whispers just beyond glass walls.

Because love, I was beginning to realize, wasn't just about two hearts—it was also about surviving the weight of the world watching.