Monday started with Aubrey running into the office five minutes late, holding her laptop, her coffee, and the weight of a weekend that didn’t prepare her for anything. She had spent Sunday night finishing the comp her boss demanded, and she already knew it wasn’t her best work. But she hoped it was enough to avoid a scene.

It wasn’t.

The team gathered in the conference room at nine. Screens lit up, chairs scraped the floor, and people pretended they cared about each other’s weekends. Aubrey sat near the end of the table, trying not to look nervous.

Her boss, Sandra, pulled up Aubrey’s layout on the screen.

“This isn’t what I asked for,” Sandra said immediately.

Aubrey’s stomach dropped. “The direction shifted last week. I tried—”

“I know what I said,” Sandra cut in. “This looks unfinished.”

A few coworkers kept their eyes on their notes. A few glanced at Aubrey quickly, then away. No one spoke.

Sandra continued, “The spacing is off. The headline doesn’t match the updated pitch. And the color palette feels random. We can’t send this to the client.”

Aubrey forced herself to sit still. “I can adjust it—”

“No,” Sandra said. “You need to redo it. Today. I want a new version before you leave.”

It wasn’t a suggestion. It wasn’t even anger. Just pressure delivered like a fact.

Aubrey nodded. “Okay.”

The rest of the meeting went on without her. She took notes she wasn’t absorbing, stared at slides she didn’t care about, and waited for it to end.

When ten thirty finally came, she went straight outside. She didn’t want coffee. She didn’t want lunch. She just wanted air that didn’t smell like frustration.

She walked two blocks until she reached a small plaza with benches and a food truck that wasn’t open yet. She sat down, dropped her bag beside her, and leaned forward, elbows on her knees. She wasn’t crying, but her eyes felt hot, like they wanted permission.

Someone spoke behind her.

“Aubrey?”

She looked up.

Caleb stood there holding a medium-sized box of basketballs. Literally basketballs. He wore shorts, a school windbreaker, and the same steady expression he carried everywhere.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, surprised.

“School’s a couple blocks over,” he said. “We’re replacing equipment, so I had to pick this up.” He paused. “You okay?”

The question was simple, but it hit harder because he asked it without hesitation.

She opened her mouth, closed it, then shook her head. “Not really. Bad morning.”

“Work?”

“Yeah.”

He set the box down on the bench, sat beside it, and rested his forearms on his legs. “Want to talk about it?”

She let out a small laugh. “Not sure you want the details.”

“I’m here anyway.”

She took a breath. “My boss trashed my work in front of everyone. Now I have to redo the whole thing today.”

Caleb nodded slowly, not judging. “That sucks.”

“Yeah.”

“She always like that?”

“Pretty much.”

He looked at her for a moment. “You know it’s not because you’re bad at what you do, right?”

Aubrey looked at the ground. “Feels like it.”

“It’s not,” he said. “I don’t even know design, but I can tell when someone’s under a terrible boss.”

She let out a breath she’d been holding since nine a.m. “Thanks.”

He nudged her shoulder lightly. “You eating lunch? Or are you running on caffeine and panic?”

“Caffeine and panic,” she said.

“Come on,” Caleb said, standing. “I’m grabbing food for the team. I’ll buy you something. You need fuel if you’re going to fight your boss’s unrealistic timeline.”

She blinked. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Yeah,” he said, “I do.”

She followed him to a sandwich shop across the street. It wasn’t a long walk, but it broke the spiral she was in. They ordered quickly—he got something simple, she got whatever looked filling—and they ate standing at a counter by the window, watching cars pass by.

“How’s practice planning?” she asked.

“Fine,” he said. “Kids are tired. I’m tired. But it’s a good kind of tired.”

“Wish I knew that feeling.”

“You will,” he said. “Just not with your boss.”

She laughed, small but real.

When lunch was over, she checked the time. “I should head back.”

“I figured.” Caleb balanced the box again. “Don’t let her make you feel smaller than you are.”

Aubrey paused. “Thanks. Really.”

“Anytime.”

They split at the corner. She walked back toward her building, and he went the opposite direction. For a few minutes, the morning didn’t feel like it was crushing her.

Then she returned to her desk.

Sandra had already left fresh notes on her monitor.

Redesign this completely. Do NOT reuse the old layout.

Aubrey sat, stretched her fingers, and forced herself to start over. Hours passed. People left one by one. The sun sank. The office got quieter. By six, only she and the cleaning staff remained.

At six forty, she closed her eyes for a second, just to rest them, when her phone buzzed.

Unknown number.

She debated not answering, but she was too tired to filter anything.

“Hello?”

“Aubrey?” a voice said.

She recognized it instantly.

Chase.

“Uh… yeah?” she answered.

“Good. I wasn’t sure if you’d pick up.”

“Why do you have my number?”

“Caleb had it in a group chat. I stole it. Don’t worry, I only commit minor crimes.”

She sighed. “What’s up?”

“I’m outside your building,” he said. “Well, technically across the street. Your office is the one with the big triangle window, right?”

Aubrey froze. “Why are you here?”

“I was nearby. Saw the location tag on your company’s Instagram story. Figured I’d say hi.” He paused. “Also figured you’d still be working, which is depressing.”

Aubrey walked to the window and looked down.

He really was there. Leaning against a streetlight pole, holding iced coffee at nearly seven p.m.

“You don’t have to—”

“I know,” he said. “Still here though.”

She didn’t know what to say. She wasn’t used to anyone showing up like that. It wasn’t romantic. It wasn’t dramatic. It was just a guy deciding that showing up was enough of a reason.

“Come down if you need a break,” he said. “Or stay up there if your boss has you chained to the desk. Either way, I’ll be here for a few.”

She hesitated.

Then she grabbed her jacket.

She took the elevator down. When she stepped outside, Chase lifted his cup like a salute.

“Wow,” he said. “You survived.”

“Barely.”

He looked at her closely—not intensely, just paying attention. “Long day?”

“Yeah.”

“You want to talk about it?” he asked.

“I already talked about it once today.”

“Then talk about something else,” he said. “Or don’t talk. I’m flexible.”

She let out a breath. “Why are you actually here, Chase?”

“I was nearby,” he repeated. “And I thought it would suck if you were stuck working late with no break.” He shrugged. “So I showed up.”

Simple. Uncomplicated. And somehow exactly what her exhausted brain needed.

He handed her his iced coffee. “Here. Sip. It’s stronger than it looks.”

She took it and drank. It was definitely stronger.

Chase smirked. “Told you.”

For the first time since morning, Aubrey felt her shoulders loosen.

“Thanks,” she said quietly.

“Anytime,” he replied.

He didn’t say it the same way Caleb did. Caleb sounded steady. Chase sounded direct, like he meant it without thinking too hard.

It hit differently.

They stood on the sidewalk while cars passed, the sky dimmed, and her office lights glowed above them. She wasn’t sure what the day meant, but she knew one thing:

Her life had not been this complicated last week.