Coworker Goes Abstract Over Mango Pomelo Sago

The company-wide raise added a cool two grand to my monthly paycheck.
To celebrate, I treated myself to a Mango Paradise smoothie at lunch. My coworker, Leo, sauntered over. Well, look at you, Sophie. Living the high life, huh?
He leaned in, squinting at the price sticker on the cup, and his voice jumped an octave. "Nine bucks for a smoothie? Man, it must be nice being single. You guys can just throw money around. Not like us poor saps with families to feed. We have to think twice before buying bottled water."
I put down my drink. "What's that supposed to mean?"
He threw his hands up in a gesture of mock surrender. "Whoa, it's just a joke! I'm just riffing with you. Can't you take a little banter? No sense of humor?"
A hot flash of anger rose in me, but just then, his phone rang.
He didn't even look at the caller ID, just hit the speakerphone button. His wife's voice, tinny and whining, filled the air. "this month's budget is a disaster."
"No money? Just ask Sophie for a loan," Leo said into the phone. "She's single, practically rolling in money she doesn't know what to do with. Besides"
Heads were starting to turn in our direction.
He shot me a smug wink and drawled, "Just doing a bit with the wife for you, Sophie. Don't take it to heart, okay?"
A knot of anger tightened in my chest, hot and suffocating.

1
The anger was a stone in my throat. I couldn't swallow it, and I couldn't spit it out.
Leo, still on his live call, had the audacity to add, "See, honey? Sophie's all flustered. Im just riffing, she gets it."
His wife mumbled something else before he hung up, chuckling.
I took a deep breath, my eyes locked on him. "Leo, I want an apology."
He wiped the grin off his face and replaced it with a look of exaggerated innocence. "An apology? For what, Sophie? It was just a little office banter, you know? Just riffing to liven things up."
He spoke loudly, making sure the entire open-plan office could hear.
"If you can't even handle a simple joke, how are you ever going to connect with the younger generation?" he said, shaking his head as if he pitied me.
A few cubicles over, I heard a stifled snicker.
My fingernails dug into my palms.
"I didn't find it funny," I said, my voice low and tight.
"Oh, come on, don't be a spoilsport." He waved a dismissive hand. "Fine, fine. My mistake. You're the bigger person, I get it."
With that, he swaggered back to his desk, leaving me stewing in a cloud of silent fury. It felt like punching a pillowall effort, no impact.
At two o'clock, our team lead called a quick huddle.
We had a notoriously difficult client, one whose project plan had already been rejected six times. Nobody wanted to touch that hot potato.
As our lead agonized over who to assign it to, Leo's hand shot up. "Give it to Sophie!" he boomed. "She's a powerhouse, and with that nice raise she just got, she should be taking on more responsibility."
He turned to me, a sickeningly sweet smile on his face. "The rest of us have to pick up kids and keep the home fires burning. We can't guarantee we won't have to clock out right at five. But Sophie? She's single, her time is her own. It's the perfect opportunity for her to shine."
I immediately pushed back. "Mark, I'm already juggling three projects. First drafts for all of them are due next Wednesday. My schedule is packed. And this client's demands are unique. I'm worried I won't"
Leo cut me off. "High demands just prove how skilled you are! The most capable person should handle the toughest jobs. Don't be so modest, Sophie. Everyone knows you've got the most potential in this department."
Sarah, sitting next to me, chimed in. "He's right, Sophie. It's good for young people to challenge themselves. For those of us with kids and aging parents, our hands are tied."
Another colleague, Dave, nodded in agreement. "Leo has a point."
Our lead, Mark, pushed his glasses up his nose. He looked at them, then at me. "Sophie, you are very capable. This client is a headache, but it could also be a major win. How about it can you take one for the team?"
I looked at Mark's pleading face, then at Leo's triumphant smirk, and swallowed the rest of my protests.
"Fine," I said.
Leos smile was painfully sincere. "That's the spirit! We'll all be cheering for you."
My stomach churned.
Just before quitting time, the office admin came around collecting money for the last team-building event. It was eighty bucks a head.
Leo followed her over, rapping his knuckles on my desk.
"Sophie," he said, his voice oozing with forced familiarity. "You just got that big raise, and you've got no dependents. Why don't you cover an extra two hundred? Call it a treat for the team. Let everyone share in your good fortune."
I looked up at him, my expression flat. "We're splitting it evenly. I'll transfer my share."
The smile on his face flickered. "Tch. No fun at all. It was just a suggestion, you know? A joke. Don't be so literal."
As he transferred his eighty dollars to the admin, he muttered, just loud enough for me to hear, "Makes all that money and she's still so stingy. No class."
The admin shot me an awkward glance before scurrying away to the next desk.
I sat there, feeling a hot flush creep up my back. It was pure rage.
The second the clock hit five, I was out of my chair and bolting for the door. One more second in that room and I might have actually exploded.
I was heading for the subway when I spotted Leo in the designated smoking area near the main entrance. He was with a guy from another department, a lit cigarette dangling from his fingers.
His back was to me; he hadn't seen me leave.
I heard his voice, laced with laughter and dripping with condescending pride.
"don't worry about it. That Sophie in our office? She's a naive little thing with deep pockets and a thin skin. Next time you have a nightmare project, just push it our way. I'll feed her a few compliments, and I guarantee she'll snap it right up."
He took a long drag from his cigarette, exhaling a perfect smoke ring.
"People like her? They're the easiest mark in the world."

2
A cold night breeze swept over me, and I shivered.
I slipped away before he could spot me, his words echoing in my head all the way to the subway station.
For the next few days, I did my best to avoid Leo.
He dropped the difficult client's file on my desk with a cheerful "The best person for the job!" and washed his hands of it completely.
I spent an entire week buried in that project, working late every single night. Finally, I hammered out a proposal that I thought might actually work.
On the day of the presentation, the client loved it. They approved it on the spot.
A wave of relief washed over me. At least the miserable week had paid off.
But less than ten minutes after the confirmation email went out, Leo tagged me in the department group chat.
Leo: "Congrats, Sophie! Got it approved in one go, you're a rock star! To be honest, I threw in a lot of suggestions for that proposal myself. Looks like the sparks from our collaboration really paid off!"
I stared at the screen, my blood beginning to boil.
He hadn't offered a single concrete suggestion beyond dumping the mess on my lap.
I didn't argue in the group chat. Instead, I scrolled back through my direct messages with him, found our conversation about the project, and took a screenshot. It clearly showed me asking for background information, and him replying with a series of "Not sure" and "You figure it out."
I dropped the screenshot into the group chat without a word.
The chat went dead silent.
A few minutes later, a private message from Leo popped up.
Leo: "Sophie, why are you being so serious? I was just riffing, trying to make it look like we have good teamwork. Dropping screenshots like that makes us look divided to the managers."
I typed back: "It is what it is."
He sent a single eye-roll emoji. "So lame."
After that incident, I started working closely with Josh from the tech department on a new project. We were constantly huddled at my desk or booking conference rooms to hash out the details.
It only took a couple of days for things to feel off.
Josh started avoiding my gaze. Whenever I tried to talk work with him, he'd give me clipped answers and find an excuse to bolt.
Then one day in the breakroom, I overheard Leo talking to another colleague. "see that?" he was snickering. "Sophie won't leave poor Josh alone. Someone's getting desperate to get married."
It all clicked into place.
That afternoon, I saw Leo holding court with a few others across the office, his eyes flicking towards me as he spoke.
I walked straight over and stood in front of him.
"Leo, why are you telling people I have a thing for Josh? What gives you the right to spread rumors like that?" My voice was loud enough to carry, and the chatter around us died down.
Leo looked startled for a second, then plastered on a wounded expression. "Sophie, what are you talking about? I was just trying to help you out! You're single, so I thought I'd riff a little, you know, create some buzz!"
He spread his hands wide, appealing to the onlookers. "Am I wrong here, people? I was just playing matchmaker! Maybe something good could have come out of it. Why can't you appreciate a good deed?"
Someone nearby let out a low chuckle.
I stared at his shameless face. "Leo, you've gone too far!"
He took a theatrical step back, feigning fear. "Whoa, look at her go! Firing up again!" he shouted to the remaining coworkers. "It's just friendly concern! A joke! I'm just riffing! Seriously, you need to work on that temper. Who's going to set you up on dates if you fly off the handle like this?"
The others quickly buried their heads in their work, pretending to be busy.
I was shaking with rage. I grabbed my bag and stormed out.
I was almost at the elevator when I remembered a document I needed for the morning. I turned back to grab it from the printer.
The machine was still humming, spitting out the last few pages of a job.
I walked over and saw it wasn't a work document at all. It was a thick stack of fifth-grade math worksheets. On the top page, written in neat handwriting, was the name of Leo's son.
I glanced around. No one was watching.
I picked up the stack of paper, still warm from the machine. I flipped through it. The paper was company stock. The ink was from the company's toner cartridge.
This was a hefty stack. The cost of the toner alone wouldn't be cheap.
I placed the worksheets back in the tray. An idea began to form in my mind.

3
The next morning, I made a point of getting to the office early.
Sure enough, it wasn't long before Leo strolled into our section, a USB drive in his hand, making a beeline for that specific printer.
He plugged it in and started clicking away. The printer whirred to life.
I walked over and stood right beside him.
"Morning, Leo," I said sweetly. "Printing some personal files?"
He jumped, spinning around. A flash of panic crossed his face when he saw me, but it was quickly replaced by his usual brand of arrogant nonchalance.
"Oh, hey, Sophie," he said, patting the printer. "This thing was just sitting here gathering dust. Figured I'd print out some homework for my kid. Help you guys use up the toner before it expires, you know?"
I watched as another worksheet, covered in dense, black ink, slid into the output tray.
"Company policy says the printers are for business use only," I stated calmly.
"Policies are made to be broken, right?" he chuckled. "It's a small thing. Don't be so rigid."
I didn't waste any more words on him. I stepped over to the connected computer, opened the printer settings, and, right in front of him, set a password for all future print jobs.
"What are you doing?" he sputtered.
"Preventing excessive waste of company resources," I said, then walked back to my desk.
Leo stood there for a few seconds, his face darkening.
Then, he suddenly raised his voice, shouting to the entire office.
"Hey, everyone, come and see this! Can you believe it? Sophie just password-protected the public printer! I guess none of us get to use it anymore! So much for being a team player. How selfish can you get?"
A few colleagues looked over, drawn by the commotion.
Sarah, the one who always played peacemaker, spoke up. "Sophie, we're all colleagues here. It's just a printer. There's no need for that, is there?"
Dave chimed in, "Yeah, a password is just going to make things inconvenient for everyone."
Seeing he had allies, Leo pressed his advantage. "Exactly! And it's not like I was printing my novel. It's for my son's education! I'm investing in the next generation! What's so wrong with that?"
I couldn't stand it, but I knew explaining would be pointless. I said nothing.
At the end of the month, a supervisor position opened up in our department.
Myself, Leo, and one other colleague all met the basic qualifications.
I threw myself into preparing my presentation for the promotion review, determined to let my work speak for itself.
One afternoon, I went to our manager's office to give him a progress report. As I approached the door, I heard Leo's voice from inside.
"and listen, Mark, Sophie's skills are top-notch, no question. But sometimes she just doesn't fit in. She takes jokes too seriously, gets defensive. If she were in a management role, leading a team I just worry her communication style might be a little difficult."
I heard Mark murmur something like, "I'll take that into consideration..."
I stood frozen outside the door, a heavy weight settling in my stomach.
Over the next few days, the atmosphere in the office felt strange.
I asked Chloe, a newer colleague I was friendly with, what was going on. She reluctantly told me that Leo was spreading a rumor that I was so desperate for the promotion, I'd been secretly bad-mouthing the other candidates to management.
I tried to explain myself to Mark, but he just gave me a placid smile. "Sophie, focus on your work. Don't let office chatter distract you. The company values overall performance."
A crushing sense of helplessness washed over me.
That night, I worked late again. Needing a break, I headed for the stairwell to get some air.
I had just pushed open the heavy fire door when I heard Leo's voice floating up from the landing below. He was on the phone, his tone thick with smug satisfaction.
"don't worry, she's not a threat. I've seen her type before. All pride and a paper-thin ego. I'll just turn up the heat, spread the word a little more, and she'll pack her own bags and run"

4
I gently closed the door, shutting out the sound of Leo's voice.
For a long time, I just sat there in the vast, empty office.
On Friday, the department went out for dinner. The mood was festive, with plenty of food and drink.
Leo was in his element, bouncing from table to table, making toasts and cracking jokes that had the managers roaring with laughter.
I had no appetite. I picked at my food, wishing the night would just end.
After a few rounds of drinks, he staggered to his feet, tapping his glass for attention. "Everyone! A toast! Let's raise our glasses to our dear Sophie!"
All eyes turned to me.
"Why Sophie?" he asked, pausing for dramatic effect. "Because she's the one who handles all the impossible tasks in our department! And why is that? Because we're all tied down with families, while she has no one and nothing to worry about! She dedicates all her timeand her raiseto the company! Isn't that spirit worth a toast?"
A few of his cronies half-heartedly raised their glasses.
I set down my fork. I could feel the blood draining from my face, my hands clenched into fists under the table.
Leo saw my expression and immediately shifted to his innocent-victim act. "Whoa, Sophie, don't get mad! I'm just riffing! It's a compliment, really! I'm saying you're more capable, more enlightened than us common folk!"
A wave of laughter rippled across the table.
I sat there, feeling like an animal in a zoo, a spectacle for their amusement.
Monday morning, our manager, Mark, called me over, his expression urgent. "We have an emergency project. I need a proposal by this afternoon. Leo says he has the baseline data; I need you to build out the core strategy."
Leo appeared moments later, clutching a folder. "The data's all in here. It's a tight deadline, so we're counting on you!"
"Is it all verified?" I asked.
"Don't worry, I double-checked everything!" Leo said, puffing out his chest. "Now get to it. The client's waiting."
I worked through my lunch break, skipping even a sip of water, and managed to send out the proposal just before noon.
That afternoon, Mark summoned me to his office. His face was thunderous. "Sophie! What is this data in your proposal? It's completely wrong! It doesn't match the client's reality at all! The client just called me, absolutely furious, and said we were being grossly unprofessional! Do you not check your data before you send things out?"
"The data was from Leo," I stammered. "He said he verified it"
"Get Leo in here!" Mark roared.
Leo walked in, picked up the folder he'd given me from my desk, and flipped through a few pages, his face a mask of shock. "Oh my god this data This was from some old scratch notes I took. It's probably not accurate. It was just meant as a rough reference."
He turned to me, his voice dripping with reproach. "Sophie, didn't I mention you should probably double-check it, just in case? For something this important, how could you just use unverified numbers?"
"You never said that!" I trembled with fury.
"What do you mean I never said that?" he shot back, his face a picture of innocence. "It was just a casual comment, a bit of a riff. How was I supposed to know you'd take raw data and send it straight to a client?"
Mark rubbed his temples. "Enough! Stop arguing! Sophie, you wrote the proposal, you're responsible! I want a formal letter of apology on my desk by the end of the day."
I felt a chill run through me as I walked out of his office.
Leo trailed behind me. "Sorry about that, Sophie," he whispered. "I really didn't think it would blow up like this."
I ignored him.
I spent the rest of the afternoon writing my apology, feeling the weight of my colleagues' stares.
Leo ambled over to my desk, a mug in his hand.
He leaned in, his voice low and slick with faux concern. "Sophie, honestly, after all this, I'm starting to think maybe you're not the right fit for our company culture."
My fingers froze over the keyboard.
"You're just too serious," he continued. "You can't take a joke. Look at you, you're making yourself miserable. Why put yourself through this? Maybe you should consider other options?"
His words hung in the quiet office, audible to the few colleagues still at their desks.
Under their silent, watching eyes, I slowly lifted my head.
To everyones surprise, I didnt lash out in anger or crumble in defeat. Instead, I offered Leo the most genuine smile I had in months.
"Leo," I said softly, my voice shockingly calm. "You're right."
He froze, clearly not expecting this reaction.
I kept smiling, holding his confused gaze, and said, word by word, "I really should start thinking about... my next move."
You want to "riff"? Fine. I'm about to show you how it's done.

First, search for and download the MotoNovel app from Google. Then, open the app and use the code "301274" to read the entire book.