Avoiding Landmines

Nick's blood pressure was through the roof, and he nervously fidgeted. "They seemed close, didn't they? He probably... uh, bought her coffee. He buys her coffee... every day... ever since he was hired two weeks ago…" Nick cringed, realizing the Siberian Beast might rip into him at any moment. "And if he's not in his office, he's at her desk, chatting with her…"

Maybe it was the stress that made him reveal all the truth. He had gathered all these intel in the hopes that it would be needed. Maybe he wanted to show the Beast that he was capable. But he indeed acted stupidly. This was his wife!

Nick braced for the explosion, but to his surprise, Jared's eyes behind those nerdy glasses were calm—disturbingly calm.

"So, they're friends," Jared said with a casual shrug.

"Right... yeah. Totally," Nick nodded, laughing awkwardly. "You should probably, you know, talk to her." But even as he said it, he felt the ground beneath him start to crack.

Jared, on the verge of opening the courtroom door, stopped again. His voice was eerily calm. "What do you know?"

Nick froze, his mind screaming at him to say nothing, but of course, his big mouth had other ideas. "N-nothing," Nick stammered and tried to avert his eyes.

But like a moth to a flame, Nick couldn't stop himself. Staring into the icy abyss of Jared's glare, he felt a cold chill creeping up his spine, but the curiosity was too strong.

He had put in a lot of effort into learning about this particular relationship, like a nosy detective with too much free time. Apparently, both of them had attended some exclusive private boarding school—very upper-crust.

Who knew the plain-looking Jerica had that kind of pedigree? It was a shock, really. How could she afford tuition at such a prestigious institution? She didn't exactly exude "elite society," especially not with her sensible shoes and that tired briefcase.

Then again, she didn't go to any Ivy League university either, which left Nick with another mystery. Why not? Was there drama? Maybe more research into her family was needed...

"He's, uh... her ex… first ex-boyfriend. They went to high school together," Nick finally mumbled, regretting it the second the words escaped his mouth.

Now I'm truly finished, Nick thought, his palms dampening. Was there going to be a showdown right here in the courthouse? Would his obituary read: Paralegal tragically caught in the crossfire of an epic marital dispute?

Nick could already picture it, his face on a memorial flyer, his parents wondering why he didn't just stick to simpler legal work.

He shrank back, expecting a blizzard of fury to freeze him on the spot. But instead, Jared's response was… a chuckle? A chuckle, warm and soft, like the first rays of spring after a harsh winter.

"High school?" Jared chuckled, a sound so out of place on his usually grim face that Nick nearly did a double take.

Nick pressed his lips together, observing Jared's face like a scientist monitoring an unpredictable chemical reaction. No signs of anger, no hint of frostiness. Was the Beast this trusting of his wife? Or... did he just not care at all? What was the truth behind those cold eyes?

Whatever!

Relieved, Nick stepped behind his boss as Jared entered the courtroom. The tension eased momentarily as all eyes turned to the Siberian Beast. Well, that went better than expected, Nick thought, practically exhaling a sigh of relief.

But then—the Beast paused. Jared, who had already stepped into the room, took one deliberate step back, turning to face Nick with an expression that made Nick's soul leave his body for a second.

Nick blinked, heart pounding. What now? Had he just stepped on yet another landmine?

Jared's icy gaze drilled into him. "Don't spy on my wife anymore."

Nick's jaw went slack. I didn't spy! I'm not that low! I am from a good family. Also, didn't you just ask me for details about her? Didn't you benefit from my spy-uh-research?

But, he was in no position to question his boss. If he valued his life, he needed to shut up immediately. Nodding as if his survival depended on it—which it very much did—Nick gave a tight smile. "Of course, sir. Not a problem."

Jared grunted, satisfied, and strode into the courtroom, spreading his frosty aura like a blizzard blowing through town.

Nick sighed heavily, wiping his sweaty brow. What an unstable man! How does anyone live with him?

-----

Jerica placed the Caramel Macchiato on her desk, the warmth of the cup grounding her in the moment. Harold's deep-set hazel eyes lingered on her, unwavering, as he rattled off another one of his so-called jokes.

She wasn't really listening; she rarely did. Still, she forced a laugh—polite, detached, the same laugh she had used back in high school when his jokes missed the mark but she didn't have the heart to tell him.

Harold hadn't changed. He still thought he was charming, and maybe he was. But she wasn't here for charm. She didn't even know why he kept talking to her. Maybe he enjoyed the sound of his own voice, or maybe he thought their shared history gave him some kind of claim to her attention.

She didn't care. Not really. Harold was just a distraction—a noise that helped drown out the quiet ache inside her. That ache she didn't let anyone see.

This was why she liked going to work. It wasn't the job itself that thrilled her. She was the Records Clerk in the County Clerk's Office. How entertaining could it be?

But it offered her an escape.

Every morning, she could lock her house and with it, lock away her emotions. The tightness in her chest, the emptiness that weighed down her heart—she could shove it all aside and step into another version of herself.

The bus ride was her purgatory, a brief space where she could transition. She needed that buffer. By the time she stepped off the bus, the transformation was complete. Jerica, the cheerful colleague, had replaced Jerica, the woman teetering on the edge of emotional collapse. It was automatic, the switch flipping without her even trying.

She wasn't proud of it. She knew what she was doing was unhealthy, that it wasn't a real solution.

But what other choice did she have?

If she didn't do this, if she didn't compartmentalize her pain, she would crumble. Depression would seep into her every moment, and she'd find herself staring at the blank, suffocating walls of her house for hours, sinking deeper into the dark corners of her mind.

Here, at least, she could pretend.

Jerica took her seat, turned on her computer, and started her work for the day. She didn't know whether Harold was not busy that day or if he was not interested in working, he was still talking. Rather than sitting on a chair nearby, he sat at the corner of her desk, still rambling.

He sure loved to hear his own voice.

Jerica took a sip of the Caramel Macchiato. She usually didn't drink coffee in the morning but today, she was hungry after not having breakfast.

"Jerica! Harold!"

A sugary sweet voice floated in the air and approached them.

Jerica let out a deep breath.

Here comes Regina!