The Band at the Edge of the Office

Celeste worked in a small office where fifty employees were scattered across departments like loose beads on a string. Most days passed quietly, with only the usual clatter of keyboards and the occasional dispute over office coffee.

Then there was Daphne.

Daphne was new, fresh out of college, and still wearing the bright confidence of someone who had not yet learned that a workplace could bruise. Celeste had only spoken to her once directly, and it had gone badly. Daphne had answered a simple question with a smile sharp enough to cut, making it clear she thought Celeste was beneath her. After that, Celeste kept her distance.

It did not help that Daphne’s behavior around the office had a way of suggesting she believed rules were for other people.

So when a wedding inquiry arrived through the family business, Celeste froze.

Her husband, Mateo, led one of the most in-demand wedding bands in the state. He was the name on every marquee and the voice couples described in glowing testimonials. Celeste handled the emails and scheduling behind the scenes while he handled the stage. Their last name was ordinary enough, and Daphne had no obvious reason to connect the elegant booking address to the man she kept requesting by reputation.

The inquiry was enthusiastic enough to make Celeste sigh.

Daphne wrote that she had seen the band perform several times and that she NEEDS them to play if her wedding was going to be perfect.

Mateo read the message over Celeste’s shoulder and snorted. “Quote her a price so high she runs away.”

Celeste shook her head. “That’s petty.”

“Then tell her we’re unavailable.”

In the end, they did neither. Mateo replied with a professional quote, already knowing that rates were going up the following season anyway. To everyone’s surprise, Daphne accepted.

After that, Mateo told Celeste to stop opening Daphne’s messages. He would handle her himself.

At first, it was merely annoying. Then it became exhausting.

Mateo groaned every time he saw her name appear in his inbox. Most of the emails had nothing to do with the wedding at all. They were little scraps of chatter, endless questions dressed up as friendliness, the sort of correspondence that slowly drained a person’s patience by the teaspoon.

For most clients, a booking meant five or ten emails up front, then a flurry of planning in the final few months before the event. But Daphne wrote constantly. Between February and September, she sent Mateo 109 emails.

He counted.

Celeste stopped being amused somewhere around email forty.

Then, a few weeks later, Mateo’s phone rang.

It was the father of the groom.

His voice was strained, polite in the way people are when they are trying not to fall apart. He explained that the band was no longer needed. The deposit would be forfeited.

Mateo asked the obvious question, though he already sounded like he knew the answer might be ugly.

There was a long pause on the other end of the line.

Then the truth came out.

Daphne had been seeing someone from Celeste’s office. The engagement was over.

Mateo ended the call and sat back in his chair, staring into the middle distance with the expression of a man who had just been handed a puzzle he wished he had never seen.

Celeste, hearing only his side of the conversation, asked, “What happened?”

He looked at her and let out one of those dramatic, incredulous breaths. “Her wedding’s off. Apparently she was cheating on him with someone from your office.”

Celeste laughed once, sharply, because the absurdity of it was too much. The woman who had treated her like an idiot, who had clogged her husband’s inbox with trivial chatter, had managed to detonate her own life in the middle of the planning process.

A few days later, Celeste saw Daphne in the break room. She looked annoyingly composed, as if nothing in her world had cracked open at all.

Celeste watched her pour coffee and wondered which of their coworkers had become the secret detail hidden inside the wreckage.

Daphne glanced up, gave her a small, unreadable smile, and walked away.

For once, Celeste didn’t feel the need to follow.