Julia arrived at the office the next morning with a determination she didn’t entirely feel. She had slept only a few hours, waking every so often to check emails or mentally rehearse conversations that hadn’t happened yet. But she showed up anyway, coffee in hand, shoulders squared in a way that promised she wouldn’t fall apart today—not in public.

The main floor was already buzzing. Designers huddled over sketches; project managers walked briskly between desks; someone argued with a contractor over speakerphone. It was the same soundtrack she heard every day, but this morning, it grated a little more sharply.

As soon as she sat down, an alert popped onto her screen.

*Meeting in ten minutes – Melissa.*

Julia exhaled slowly. “Of course.”

When she entered the small glass meeting room, Melissa was already inside—bright smile, bright blouse, bright energy, the kind that clashed painfully with Julia’s exhaustion.

“You’re here,” Melissa said. “Great. We have a lot to cover.”

Julia sat, setting her notebook down. “Okay. What’s first?”

“The Ridge project,” Melissa said, tapping a manicured nail against her tablet. “We need to rework the interior flow for Units 4A through 4C. Construction delays mean the client wants to adjust some of the custom choices.”

Julia’s stomach tightened. “We already finalized those layouts three times.”

“I know,” Melissa said cheerfully. “But they want to revisit them. And since those units fall under your section, I need updated drafts by the end of the day.”

“Today?” Julia blinked. “That’s impossible. I have three walk-through reviews and a materials call—”

Melissa interrupted with a soft, practiced laugh. “Julia, you’re the best we’ve got on this. Honestly, I trust you more than anyone else to make it happen.”

It was a compliment, framed neatly as a trap.

Julia kept her voice steady. “I can do it, but not today. If we want those layouts to be accurate, I’ll need at least until tomorrow afternoon.”

Melissa’s smile dimmed by a degree. “Everything is urgent right now. The firm is stretched, clients are anxious, and I need people who can… adapt.”

Adapt usually meant sacrifice. Usually her.

“Melissa,” Julia said carefully, “I’m adapting. But I’m already overloaded with—”

“Well,” Melissa cut in, “Ethan could help you with the vendor confirmations. I saw you two stepped out for coffee yesterday.”

Julia’s brows tightened. “That was a work break.”

“Of course,” Melissa said, tone breezy and knowing. “Still, if you’re comfortable working closely with him, maybe he can take some of your smaller tasks. Free you up for the real deadlines.”

The implication stung. Julia felt heat rise under her collar.

“I’m not offloading work onto someone else just because I’m drowning,” Julia said.

Melissa blinked, surprised by the edge in her tone. “No one is ‘drowning.’ Things are busy, that’s all.”

“Busy is when tasks pile up. This is something else.”

A quiet tension settled into the small room.

Melissa crossed her legs, posture stiffening. “If you’re saying you can’t handle the responsibilities of the Ridge section, then I need to know—”

“I didn’t say that,” Julia shot back.

“Then show me you can manage it.”

The words were sharper than they should’ve been. They hung in the air, cold and unmistakable. Julia felt something in her chest tighten and crack.

For a moment, neither spoke.

Finally, Julia closed her notebook. “Send me the files. I’ll see what I can do.”

She stood before Melissa could answer, stepping out into the hallway where the fluorescent lights seemed suddenly too bright. She walked quickly toward her desk, heart pounding with something that wasn’t just stress.

Anger. Real anger. Rare for her.

She sat down, staring at her monitor without seeing it. The cursor blinked back at her, patient and indifferent.

A shadow crossed her desk. “Rough meeting?” Ethan’s voice was low.

She didn’t look up. “You heard that?”

“You can feel the tension from the elevator,” he said lightly. “What happened?”

Julia shook her head. “It’s nothing. Just… the usual.”

“That didn’t look like the usual.”

She finally looked at him. His expression wasn’t prying, just steady—an anchor in the messy storm running circles in her head.

“She wants the Ridge layouts redone today,” Julia said.

“That’s unreasonable.”

“Apparently not, according to her.”

Ethan took a long breath through his nose. “If you want help, I’m available. I know you don’t like delegating, but you don’t have to do it all alone.”

Julia pressed a hand to her forehead. “I don’t want you to think I’m dumping work on you.”

“I wouldn’t offer if I felt that way,” he said simply.

The directness disarmed her. For a beat, she didn’t respond.

Her phone buzzed suddenly. Aaron.

*How’s your morning?*

Julia stared at the message. A small knot formed at the base of her throat—not unpleasant, just unexpected.

She typed back quickly.

*Hectic. Can we talk later?*

His reply came almost instantly.

*Of course. I’ll be home when you are.*

A warmth spread through her chest, quiet, grounding.

Ethan watched her expression shift. “Good message?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Yeah, actually.”

He nodded, then placed the sample folder gently on her desk. “Text me if you want me to take anything off your plate.”

Julia exhaled slowly. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

When he walked away, Julia turned back to her screen. The weight of Melissa’s words was still there, but something steadier rose to meet it—a reminder that she wasn’t as alone in the chaos as the morning had made her feel.

She opened the layout files. Her pulse slowed. Her breathing evened.

Today would still be hard. The deadlines would still be unreasonable. The friction with Melissa would still sting.

But she wasn’t drowning. Not yet.

She began to work.