Chapter 3: Whispers and Warnings

The next day, Lauren came to work looking pale and weak. I half-joked, "How many showers did you take? You look exhausted."

She slumped into her chair, her hair still damp, and shot me a death glare. “Get lost!” she snapped, but her voice was too tired to sound truly angry. She leaned on her desk, fingers flying over her keyboard, Messenger notifications popping up in quick succession.

Soon, her best friend at the company, Marissa Delgado, came over. Marissa’s the office gossip queen—she always knows who’s fighting, who’s dating, and who’s about to quit. She swooped in, coffee in hand, and slid into Lauren’s cubicle like she owned the place, her eyes scanning the floor for the latest scoop.

The two started whispering, heads close together. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but their voices were just loud enough to catch snippets: "so much flow," "can’t stop it," "sheets are all red," "I’m afraid I’ll bleed dry."

My ears burned. I knew exactly what they were talking about, but there’s an unspoken rule—when the women start whispering about their monthly visitor, you just mind your own business. I remembered high school gym class, when all the guys would suddenly find something fascinating on the ceiling whenever this topic came up.

I’m not clueless—I knew what they meant, but since it was a women’s topic, I kept my distance. I cranked up the volume on my headphones and buried myself in my spreadsheet, pretending not to hear a thing. Some things are better left unacknowledged.

That day, Lauren kept drinking hot chocolate with extra sugar. She looked unwell but still forced herself to work. I watched her go through a whole stack of sugar packets, her hands trembling as she sipped. But she kept typing away, stubborn as ever.

Marissa urged her to see a doctor, but Lauren didn’t want to take two days off in a row, since it wasn’t easy to get this job. “You need to see someone, girl,” Marissa whispered, glancing over her shoulder. Lauren just shook her head, muttering about not wanting to risk her new job. It was tough enough landing a spot here, and she didn’t want to mess it up with too many sick days.

I was speechless—she’d taken leave just to shower, but now, with her health clearly suffering, she stubbornly refused to go to the doctor. I just stared at her, half amused, half exasperated. “You’ll skip work to wash up, but not when you’re actually sick?” I muttered under my breath. It was like something out of a sitcom.

Women’s logic really is hard to understand sometimes. I gave up trying to make sense of it. Sometimes, you just have to let people be.