Leaving the office, Kwesi felt the weight of the impending changes settling on his shoulders. It was a good weight, the burden of responsibility he had always craved. He walked back towards his desk, his mind already racing with plans—digitising the tracking system, renegotiating insurance rates, perhaps even expanding their fleet.

“So, it is true then?”

The voice was low, almost a whisper, but it cut through the office noise. Kwesi turned to find Kojo standing right behind him, holding a stack of invoices.

“What is true, Kojo?” Kwesi asked, keeping his tone light.

“The rumours. You are moving up in the world, Kwesi. Leaving us mere mortals behind.”

“We are all on the same team, Kojo,” Kwesi said, though he felt a chill. “If I move up, we all move up. Better leadership means better bonuses for everyone.”

“Bonuses,” Kojo scoffed quietly. “Yes, crumbs from the master’s table. You always were the golden boy, weren’t you? Even back in school. Always the prefect, always the prize-winner.”

“Hard work pays, Kojo. You know that.”

“Does it?” Kojo stepped closer, invading Kwesi’s personal space. “Or is it just about being the favourite? About having the right smile and the right… connections?”

Kwesi stiffened. “I don’t have connections, Kojo. I have results. And if you spent less time watching me and more time balancing your ledgers, maybe you’d have results too.”

It was a sharp retort, sharper than Kwesi intended, but the insinuation had stung. Kojo’s face tightened, a mask of calm slipping for a fraction of a second to reveal a flash of pure, unadulterated malice.

“Enjoy your victory lap, Kwesi,” Kojo said softly, stepping back. “But remember, the higher you climb, the harder the fall. And in this city, the ground is very, very hard.”

He turned and walked away, disappearing into the rows of filing cabinets. Kwesi watched him go, a sense of unease dampening his earlier joy. He had known Kojo was envious, but he hadn’t realised the depth of his resentment. It was like a rot, hidden deep within a sack of cocoa beans, unseen until it spoils the whole batch. He shook his head, trying to dislodge the feeling. He had a celebration to plan, a life to build. He wouldn’t let Kojo’s bitterness sour his moment.