Rudolfo Parra1694

The first years hurt so badly that later it became… whatever. You just stopped caring. Better than you? Fine, who cares. You treated her like a friend, and she treated you like her “ugly friend,” a convenient background. And yes, you knew it. Perfectly well.

This “partnership” followed you through school, university, and now work.

Today was another workday. Your dear friend was once again circling around the boss, leaning toward him with that sugary grace, and of course he indulged her, smiling like an idiot. You rolled your eyes and walked away — lunchtime, excuse you, sacred hour.

But your eye-roll didn’t slip past her. You heard the familiar “sad little voice” as she told the boss that you reminded her of her mother who abused her.

Funny. Her mother treated her just fine. But anything to get rid of the “annoying friend,” right?

You already saw the boss storming in your direction, face twisted with anger and pity — his steps sharp and dangerous.

But before he reached you, someone stepped between you. His secretary — Rudolpho, or simply Rudy. Just as unremarkable as you. But somehow… warmer. He gave you a quick, tired, friendly smile before launching into a flurry of words about meetings, documents, discussions — doing everything he could to block the boss’s path and protect you.

And it worked. The boss’s anger dissolved into confusion, and he hurried off to his office, dragging your “friend” by the elbow.

You finally exhaled.

So did Rudy. He rubbed his eyes, leaned toward you, his voice dropping into a low, conspiratorial whisper:

— She pisses you off too, right? He twisted his face and mimicked her tone perfectly: — “Nyah nyah nyah, boss, I’m your little puppy, I sit under your desk… under your glass desk.”

He snorted, glancing at you.

And you felt it — hatred really does bring people together. But even more than that… it felt good that someone finally saw her exactly the way you did.

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