Page 66 of Mine To Hunt

“What kind of rumors?” I ask quietly.

“They’re saying,” Hazel continues carefully, “that you were hired out of sympathy. Or possibly because someone higher up pressured the paper to bring you in.”

She hesitates before finishing. “Some are even suggesting the company wanted to look progressive after… what happened at your university.” The room suddenly feels colder. “That video incident.”

Shock hits first. Then hurt. The tears sting at the corners of my eyes before I can stop them.

“Rumors about me?” I whisper. My voice trembles. “How do they even know about that?” I never told anyone here.

Hazel hesitates for a moment before answering. “It appears the rumors started with Mike from the editing team.” She says. Her tone stays calm but cautious.

“I don’t know exactly why he would say something like that.” She exhales softly. “But once things like this start circulating, they spread quickly.”

Confusion mixes with a deeper sense of betrayal.

“Mike?” I repeat. My mind searches through memories of brief, polite interactions. “I barely even talk to him.”

I shake my head slowly. “We’ve exchanged maybe five sentences since I started. Why would he do this to me? It doesn’t make any sense.”

Hazel sighs quietly. “I understand how upsetting this is. But right now, all I have is second-hand information. No one has formally complained, and no one will confirm exactly what was said.”

She folds her hands on the desk.

“I can’t take disciplinary action based on rumors alone.” She says gently. “If I did that, HR would shut it down immediately.”

Hazel shakes her head sympathetically. “I wish I had a better explanation. Sometimes people latch onto half-information or assumptions. But none of this is official.”

She meets my eyes. “We hired you because of your writing.” A small, reassuring smile appears. “You’re talented, Iris. That’s the reason you’re here. And if these rumors don’t have anything real behind them, they’ll die down eventually.”

I wipe at my eyes quickly, trying to regain control. “But how did he even get that information?” I ask. “That’s not something I talk about here.”

Hazel considers that for a moment. “News like that can travel through strange channels.” She says thoughtfully. “Someone from your school might have mentioned it. Or something surfaced online.”

She shrugs slightly. “It’s hard to trace once gossip starts moving.” Her voice softens again. “Don’t let it consume you. Focus on your work.”

I nod slowly, even though the doubt lingers heavily in my chest. “Okay.” I say quietly. “Thank you for telling me directly, Hazel. I appreciate the honesty.”

We end the conversation on that note, and I return to my desk, the sense of isolation feeling even heavier now that it has been confirmed.

I sit there and dwell on how Mike could have gotten that personal information, my mind racing with dark possibilities that stir up more fear.

Why is he doing this to me? Is it just office politics, or something more sinister? Paranoia creeps in as I wonder if it is the work of the stalker. Last night he came to my flat, that deliberate and terrifying demonstration of his presence. Was it a warning that he will destroy my life further by ruining my reputation and turning people against me?

The thoughts spiral inside me, fear turning into a deep-seated anxiety that makes it hard to focus on anything else.

Back at my desk, I try to dive back into my article, but the emotions overwhelm me completely. I look up then, really looking at the newsroom that I once thought might be a safe haven to rebuild my life.

I realize how quickly a place can turn hostile without anyone even raising their voice, how isolation can be engineered in broad daylight through subtle whispers and avoided glances. Hurt and betrayal flood through me, making it difficult to hold back the tears that threaten to spill over.

I feel like my life has become a living hell with so many things happening all at once. The relentless stalker, the humiliating video that refuses to die, the forced time off from uni, and now these damaging rumors at work.

Despair settles deep in my chest, leaving me questioning if I will ever find a way out of this endless cycle of pain and judgment.

Tom from the desk beside mine glances over after a moment, hesitation written plainly across his face. He doesn’t speak right away, as if weighing whether he should.

“Hey, Iris.” He says finally. “You okay?”

A tight smile settles on my lips. It feels stiff on my face. “Yeah. Just trying to focus on this article.” I reply. “Deadlines, you know. They get to you.”