The spreadsheet on my screen blurred as I stared at it, the numbers swimming together in a meaningless jumble. I blinked hard, trying to force my brain to focus, but the tightness in my chest made it difficult to breathe, let alone think. Coming into the office had been a mistake. I should have taken another day, given myself time to decompress after Colorado. But the thought of sitting alone at home, with nothing but my thoughts for company, had seemed worse somehow.
Four days with my family always left me feeling hollowed out, scraped raw from the inside. Even with Nan as a buffer, there was no avoiding my father’s disapproving stares or my mother’s brittle smiles. The silent judgment that followed me through every room of their house like a fucking shadow I couldn’t outrun.
I rubbed a hand over my face, feeling the stubble I’d missed while shaving this morning. Another sign I wasn’t at my best. Everything felt slightly off-kilter, like the world had shifted two inches to the left while I wasn’t looking. It was fucking exhausting.
A soft knock pulled me from my thoughts. Mia stood in my doorway, clutching a manila folder to her chest, studying mewith an intensity that made my heart skip. The band around my chest loosened slightly at the sight of her.
“You’re back.” She stepped into my office without waiting for an invitation. The subtle floral scent of her perfume reached me as she approached my desk. It was all I could do not to close my eyes and just breathe her in.
“I am.” My voice sounded like I hadn’t spoken a word for a decade.
Her eyes narrowed slightly as she took me in, and I knew she was cataloging everything from the shadows under my eyes to the tension in my shoulders. In the last few weeks, she’d become alarmingly good at reading me.
“Are you okay?” The question was simple, direct, and loaded with genuine concern.
“I’m fine.” The automatic response felt stale on my tongue, unconvincing even to my own ears.
Mia tilted her head, her lips quirking up at one corner. “You know I don’t believe you, right?”
I sighed, not having the energy to maintain the pretense. “I know.”
“I’m not going to push you to talk about it.” She placed the folder on my desk and perched on the edge, closer than professional boundaries would typically allow. “But I know exactly what you need right now.”
Despite everything, I felt myself leaning toward her, drawn by the warmth in her voice. “And what’s that?”
“Operation UYD.”
I frowned, momentarily confused. “Operation UYD?”
She smiled, a genuine one that reached her eyes and made something inside me settle. My breath hitched at the sight.
“Operation Unfuck Your Day. And lucky for you, I’m just the person to bring it.”
“And what is it, exactly?”
“It’s whatever you need it to be.” She tapped her finger to her lips, thinking, and I found myself staring at the motion. “But for you, I think we need a movie marathon, so you can just chill out and not stress. So shoot me your address. I’ll be there at 7.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “Oh, and wear comfy clothes. No business suits for UYD.”
I stared at her, trying to process her words. A movie marathon at my place. With Mia. I couldn’t think of anything I wanted more.
Every part of me wanted to say yes. But instead, “It’s not necessary. I’m fine.”
“With all due respect, you’re absolutely not fine.” She crossed her arms over her chest, fixing me with a look that brooked no argument. “And UYD isn’t optional. It’s mandatory.”
“Is it now?” Despite everything, I felt the corner of my mouth twitch upward.
“It is. Ask anyone who knows me.”
I hesitated only a second before grabbing a yellow post-it note from the stack on my desk. I scribbled my address and handed it to her, my fingers brushing against hers as she took it.
“Like I said, I’ll be there at 7,” she confirmed, heading toward the door.
She’d taken three steps when she suddenly froze. My heart leapt into my throat as I watched her stare at the post-it note in her hand, then slowly turn it over, her head tilting slightly the way it always did when she was processing something.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. A cold wave of panic washed over me. I knew exactly what was happening. The handwriting. She recognized my handwriting from the notes I’d been leaving on her desk for weeks. Unmistakable. Undeniable.
I stopped breathing, time suspended. I’d been so careful, always arriving early, always making sure no one saw me. Butin my post-Colorado haze, I’d made the stupidest rookie mistake possible. I’d handed her proof.
When she turned back to me, her eyes were wide, stunned. The silence stretched between us, thick and agonizing.
