The months that followed felt like living inside an echo everything quieter slower people speaking in low voices as if afraid the markets might overhear and collapse again whole buildings emptied out offices once filled with shouting now just humming air conditioners and the ghosts of money that no longer existed I kept coming to work because habit is stronger than reason sometimes because routine is what keeps you from seeing how broken everything really is

The government money came in waves first rescue then regulation then blame the newspapers filled with outrage and apologies the same faces that praised us years before now calling us criminals I didn’t argue they weren’t wrong the difference between villain and visionary had always been timing

Our firm survived barely scarred stitched together with bailout funds and denial half the floor gone Leon’s desk empty the young ones vanished like smoke the veterans pretending we’d learned something we hadn’t not really we just got quieter about it

Julia sent me another email short just three words told you so I smiled when I read it not because she was right but because she still cared enough to say it I wrote back you always do she didn’t answer for a week then finally come visit I told her maybe soon the lie now muscle memory

I spent more time at home that year my apartment smaller than I remembered or maybe I had just filled it with too many memories photos from years I barely recognized faces blurred by time and regret I tried reading again novels business books anything that didn’t have numbers but every sentence drifted back to markets to risk to patterns of rise and fall the only rhythm I seemed to understand

My father passed that winter quietly in his sleep the call came on a Tuesday I went to the funeral two days later small service cold wind blowing through the church the priest talking about peace and rest words that felt foreign I stood there thinking how he’d spent his whole life working just enough to live while I’d spent mine living just to work

After they buried him I walked alone through the snow the city muffled in white and for the first time in years I didn’t think about the markets I thought about time about how it moves like interest compounding quietly until one day you realize it’s all been spent

Back at the firm things were changing the new managers spoke about ethics and sustainability they used words like accountability as if saying them often enough would make them true we sat through seminars about trust transparency compliance the same people who’d sold chaos now preaching control the irony thick enough to choke on

I started mentoring younger analysts not because I wanted to but because someone had to they asked questions I didn’t have answers for why do markets crash why do people keep making the same mistakes why do we never stop I told them the truth because we forget faster than we learn they nodded wrote it down like wisdom but it was just fatigue

At night I’d walk by the river the skyline darker fewer lights some towers still empty the reflections rippling in the current like the ghosts of better times the city wasn’t dead but it wasn’t alive either it was waiting breathing slow like a boxer between rounds

One evening Julia called said she was in town for a conference asked if I wanted to meet I said yes before I could talk myself out of it we met in a quiet restaurant near Central Park she looked older but lighter I told her that she said that’s what happens when you stop fighting the tide she asked if I was still fighting I said I wouldn’t know what else to do she reached across the table took my hand said maybe you should learn

We didn’t talk about the past not really it was there between every sentence but unspoken when we said goodbye she hugged me and whispered take care of yourself for real this time and I wanted to believe I could

The next morning I went to work same desk same screens same noise slowly returning the markets rising again cautious at first then confident the cycle restarting I stared at the green numbers crawling upward felt the old pulse inside me trying to wake again

And I realized survival isn’t victory it’s just endurance a quieter addiction that looks respectable from a distance

I turned off the monitor for a moment let the silence fill the room and wondered if maybe this was what peace sounded like or if it was just the pause before the next storm