By Wednesday morning, Aubrey felt like she had lived through a whole month. She hit snooze twice, pulled herself out of bed on the third attempt, and stared at her reflection long enough to accept that she looked exactly as tired as she felt. No amount of makeup would fix it, so she didn’t bother trying.

On the bus, her boss sent another message: Need a cleaner version by noon. No emojis. No greeting. Just pressure disguised as instructions.

When she arrived at the office, her computer took too long to load, her coffee tasted burnt, and the design file crashed twice before even opening. She forced herself to restart everything and hoped that would be the worst part of her morning.

It wasn’t.

At eleven, Sandra approached her desk with a stack of printouts.

“We’re doing an internal review at one,” Sandra said. “Bring the updated files.”

Aubrey blinked. “One? I thought the deadline was noon.”

“It was,” Sandra said. “Now it’s one. That changes nothing.”

“It does,” Aubrey said carefully. “Because the new version isn’t finished.”

Sandra gave her a tight smile. “Then finish it.”

She walked away without waiting for a reply.

Aubrey stared at her screen, fighting the urge to scream. She had never wanted to quit a job so quickly in her life. She worked through the next hour with her shoulders tensed so hard it felt like they were turning into stone.

By the time noon rolled around, she needed to get out.

She grabbed her bag and left before Sandra could find her again. She walked four blocks without stopping, passing a florist, a bike shop, and a group of office workers smoking like they were clocking into their second job. Her stomach growled, reminding her she hadn’t eaten anything except caffeine since yesterday afternoon.

She pushed open the door of a small deli she’d visited a few times. It wasn’t trendy or pretty, but the food was reliable. She ordered a sandwich and waited by the counter, staring at her phone even though she didn’t want to.

The door opened behind her. She didn’t look up until she heard a familiar voice.

“Aubrey?”

She turned.

Caleb stood there holding a folder under his arm, still wearing his school sweatshirt from yesterday. He looked surprised but not confused, like running into her made the day make more sense.

“Hey,” she said. “You on break?”

“Kind of,” he said. “I’m dropping off some forms near here. Thought I’d grab lunch.” He paused. “You okay? You look… like Tuesday didn’t get better.”

“It didn’t,” she said. “And Wednesday isn’t trying either.”

Caleb nodded like he understood the entire story without needing more details. “You want to sit while you wait?”

She did. Her legs felt heavy, and her head felt overstuffed. They found a small table near the window and sat across from each other.

“Internal review?” Caleb guessed.

“How did you know?”

“You have the face of someone who has too many meetings and not enough support.”

She let out a laugh, short but real. “That’s exactly it.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“No,” she said. “Not because I don’t want to. I just don’t even know where to start.”

“That’s fine,” he said. “You don’t have to.”

They sat quietly until the deli worker called her order. She pulled the sandwich toward her and took a long sip of water.

“Is coaching any easier today?” she asked.

Caleb shrugged. “Some kids forgot their jerseys. One kid forgot his shoes.”

“How do you forget your shoes?”

“His excuse was ‘brain stuff.’ I didn’t ask further.”

Aubrey snorted. “Honestly? Same.”

Caleb leaned back in his chair, watching her with that calm, steady look he always seemed to have. It wasn’t intrusive. It just made her feel like someone finally saw her without asking her to perform.

“You should take a break tonight,” he said. “You look like you need one.”

“I can’t,” she said. “Internal review at one. Then revisions. Then probably another round of revisions.”

“Still,” he said. “Break later, then.”

She didn’t argue because he wasn’t wrong.

After they finished eating, Caleb stood. “I should get back.”

“Thanks for… sitting with me,” she said.

“Anytime,” he replied, and she could tell he meant it.

Aubrey headed back to the office feeling slightly more functional, but her mood didn’t survive long.

The internal review was as bad as she expected. Sandra criticized the layout, a coworker gave feedback that contradicted the brief, and someone else suggested a “friendlier tone,” whatever that meant in a visual design.

By five, Aubrey felt mentally wrung out. She kept working anyway. She didn’t know what else to do. Quitting wasn’t an option, yet staying felt like pushing through sand.

At six thirty, her phone buzzed.

Chase: Are you still alive?

She didn’t respond.

A minute later:

Chase: If you’re not dead, come out with me tonight.

She rubbed her forehead. She typed:

Aubrey: Can’t. Still working.

Chase: I’ll wait.

She frowned.

Aubrey: Wait where??

Chase: Outside. Obviously.

She walked to the window and looked down.

Chase wasn’t there.

Yet.

She sighed, grabbed her coat, and pressed the elevator button. She didn’t even know why she was going downstairs. Maybe she didn’t want to keep sitting in the same air that had been suffocating her all day.

When she stepped outside, she spotted him a few feet away, leaning against a bike rack, hands in his pockets. He wasn’t holding food this time. He wasn’t holding anything.

He just looked at her and grinned.

“There you are.”

“You said you were outside,” she said.

“I got here thirty seconds ago,” he said. “Perfect timing. See? Fate—”

“No fate,” she said quickly.

He laughed. “Fine. Coincidence. You look exhausted.”

“I am.”

“Good,” he said. “Then you have no resistance left. Let’s go.”

“Where?”

“A bar that opened last week,” he said. “Small, quiet, not the dance kind. You’ll like it. Or you’ll hate it. But you won’t be in your office, and that’s already a win.”

Aubrey stared at him. She could go back inside and stare at her screen until midnight, or she could breathe air that didn’t smell recycled.

“Okay,” she said, surprising herself.

Chase’s grin widened. “Great. That’s the spirit.”

They walked a few blocks until they reached a narrow bar tucked between a laundromat and a bookstore. Inside, the lighting was soft but not dim. A few people sat at the counter, talking quietly. Music played low enough to ignore.

Chase ordered drinks—nothing strong, just something easy.

They sat at a small table near the back.

“So,” he said, “tell me the part of your day that made you consider quitting your job again.”

“I don’t want to talk about work.”

“Okay,” he said. “Then tell me something else.”

“Like what?”

He shrugged. “Anything that isn’t terrible.”

She thought for a second. “I ran into Caleb at lunch.”

Chase paused mid-sip. “You did?”

“Yeah. He was dropping off forms nearby.”

Chase set his glass down. “Did he… say anything?”

“About what?”

“I don’t know,” Chase said. “He likes giving advice. Sometimes good advice. Sometimes ‘coach’ advice.”

“He was normal,” Aubrey said. “We ate. He told me to take a break.”

Chase nodded, expression unreadable for a second.

“You two talk easily,” he said.

Aubrey raised an eyebrow. “Are you jealous?”

Chase scoffed. “No. He’s just—Caleb. He’s the steady one. I’m the one people assume is trouble.”

“You’re not trouble,” she said.

“Sure I am,” he said lightly. “But not the dangerous kind.”

Aubrey took a slow drink. “You don’t have to compete with him.”

“Who said I am?” Chase asked.

“You’re acting like you are.”

He leaned forward, arms on the table. “I just want to know where I stand.”

Aubrey blinked. “Stand… in what?”

“You keep showing up in my days,” he said. “And I keep showing up in yours. That means something.”

She didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Not yet.

Chase didn’t push. He leaned back again. “Relax. I’m not asking for a contract. Just… letting you know I’m paying attention.”

Her chest tightened—not in a bad way. Just in a way she wasn’t used to.

They stayed a while longer, talking about nothing and everything—music, bad customers, random memories. It felt easy. Lighter than the day she had lived through.

When she finally checked the time, it was almost ten.

“I should go,” she said. “I have work tomorrow.”

“I figured,” Chase said, standing with her. “I’ll walk you home.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know,” he said. “Still going to.”

The walk was quiet, but not in a tense way. The night air helped clear her head. When they reached her building, Chase stopped a few steps away.

“You surviving the week so far?” he asked.

“Barely.”

He smiled. “Let me know if you need a distraction tomorrow.”

She didn’t promise she would. But she didn’t rule it out.

“Goodnight, Chase.”

“Night, Aubrey.”

She went inside, rode the elevator up, and unlocked her apartment. The lights clicked on, and everything looked the same as always. But she didn’t feel the same.

For the first time in a long while, her week didn’t feel like a single long blur.

It felt like something was shifting—even if she wasn’t sure which direction it would go.