Chapter 11: Untitled

Chapter 11

 The Ripple Effect

The morning air was crisp as Stella stepped out of her apartment, brimming with a new kind of confidence—or so she thought. Her low-cut hair, a bold move she had made in the heat of heartbreak, was now her badge of defiance. No wigs, no cover-ups. This was the new Stella, unfiltered and unbothered.

At least, that’s what she told herself.

As she entered the office building, the usual hum of chatter seemed louder than usual. Stella squared her shoulders, took a deep breath, and strode in, head held high.

The receptionist, a young woman named Clara with a penchant for gossip, froze mid-conversation as she saw Stella. Her eyes widened, and a hand flew to her mouth.

"Stella?" Clara asked, her voice tinged with disbelief. "What... what happened?"

"Good morning, Clara," Stella said, forcing a smile. She walked past the reception desk, pretending not to notice Clara’s curious gaze trailing her.

By the time she reached her desk, Stella could feel the stares. Whispers floated through the air like an annoying mosquito she couldn’t swat away.

"Did you see her hair?"

"Is everything okay with her?"

"Is this some kind of statement?"

Stella ignored them, though her cheeks burned. She sat at her desk, adjusting her monitor to shield her from prying eyes. But the questions were relentless, and soon, her colleague Tunde leaned over the cubicle divider, his face a mix of concern and suppressed laughter.

"Stella... your hair," he said cautiously. "Did... did you lose a bet or something?"

Stella glared at him, her temper flaring. "No, Tunde. I didn’t lose a bet. I made a choice."

"A choice?" Tunde blinked. "Like... on purpose?"

"Yes, Tunde. On purpose," she snapped.

Before Tunde could dig himself into a deeper hole, their manager, Mrs. Adeyemi, appeared. She was a no-nonsense woman with an eagle eye for detail. Her gaze landed on Stella, and her brows furrowed.

"Stella," she said in her clipped tone. "What is going on with your... appearance?"

Stella stood up, determined to own her decision. "I decided to embrace a new look, ma’am. A fresh start."

Mrs. Adeyemi pursed her lips, clearly unimpressed. "Well, next time, try a fresh start that doesn’t distract the entire office. Get back to work, all of you!"

Stella sank back into her chair, her moment of triumph deflated. The whispers subsided, but her embarrassment lingered.

Later that day, the humiliation reached its peak during lunch. Stella decided to eat in the cafeteria, thinking that showing her face would normalize her new look. Instead, she walked into what felt like a battlefield.

"Stella! Over here!" Clara called, waving her over to a table.

Reluctantly, Stella joined Clara and a few other colleagues, including Tunde, who couldn’t resist commenting again.

"So," he began, grinning, "are you trying to join the military or just channeling your inner monk?"

The table erupted in laughter, and Stella’s face burned with indignation.

"I’m channeling my inner confidence, Tunde," she shot back. "Something you clearly wouldn’t recognize if it hit you in the face."

The group fell silent, and Tunde raised his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. Point taken."

Just as the tension eased, the worst possible thing happened: Richard walked into the cafeteria. His imposing figure and confident stride commanded attention. The room seemed to shift, everyone falling silent as he scanned the crowd.

When his eyes landed on Stella, he stopped. For a brief moment, his expression was unreadable. Then, to Stella’s horror, a smirk spread across his face.

He walked over to their table, each step making Stella’s heart pound. When he finally spoke, his voice was calm but laced with amusement.

"Stella," he said, his eyes lingering on her hair. "I see you’ve... made some changes."

The table erupted in barely contained snickers, and Stella wished the ground would swallow her whole.

"Yes," she said, forcing herself to meet his gaze. "I decided it was time for a change."

Richard’s smirk deepened. "Bold choice. Though I hope it wasn’t a reaction to something... emotional."

The subtle jab stung, but Stella refused to let him see her falter. "Not at all. It’s called evolving, Richard. You should try it sometime."

His smirk faltered for a fraction of a second, and Stella felt a small surge of victory. But as he walked away, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she had just declared war—and she wasn’t sure she was ready for the battle.

After the cafeteria encounter, Stella spent the rest of the day oscillating between pride and mortification. She replayed Richard’s smirk and her sharp retort in her head, wishing she could savor the tiny victory without cringing at how exposed she felt.

Back at her desk, the whispers seemed to have subsided, though Stella was certain that her name was still on everyone’s lips. For the first time in what felt like forever, she wasn’t the invisible assistant sitting quietly behind the scenes. She had made an impression—though whether it was a good one remained debatable.

But Stella wasn’t done yet. She resolved to stand her ground. If people wanted to talk, she would give them something to talk about.