Thursday morning wasn’t kind to Aubrey. She woke up to three notifications she didn’t want—one from her boss, one from the project manager, and one from an app telling her she’d slept “below average.” Great. Even her phone thought she was failing.

She rolled out of bed, tripped over her own laundry pile, and swore at nothing. Her coffee machine sputtered like it hated her, then gave her half a cup. She drank it anyway because she had no time for dignity. She left her apartment in a rush, jacket half-zipped and hair in a knot that wasn’t intentional but wasn’t fixable either.

On the bus, she checked her email and instantly regretted it. Sandra had sent a message at 6:42 a.m.

Need your updated comp by 3. And fix the spacing issue this time.

Aubrey closed the email because she didn’t trust herself not to throw her phone.

When she walked into the office, everything was too bright and too loud. Someone was talking about weekend plans like it was already Friday. Someone else clicked their pen nonstop. Her computer froze twice before actually starting. She wanted to unplug everything and go home.

Her phone buzzed.

Caleb: Morning. You okay?

She typed back:

Aubrey: Not even a little.

He replied instantly, because of course he did.

Caleb: Eat something. And breathe. In that order.

She stared at the message. It was annoyingly simple advice, but also annoyingly correct.

Before she could respond, her phone rang.

Chase.

She answered because she didn’t have the energy to ignore him.

“You sound dead,” he said immediately.

“That’s because I am,” she replied.

“Cool. Anyway, I’m grabbing breakfast. Want something? Tell me you want something. I’m already ordering too much.”

“I can’t. I’m at work.”

“So? I can drop it off.”

“No,” she said. “No dropping off food. I don’t need an audience while I collapse.”

“You sure?”

“Very.”

“Fine,” he said. “But drink water. And text me if your boss says something stupid. Actually—just assume she will and text me anyway.”

She hung up before he could add anything else.

For a moment, she sat at her desk staring at her dim computer screen, wondering how two guys she barely knew were somehow more present in her life than most people she worked with for years.

Then Sandra appeared.

“We need the secondary layout too,” Sandra said. “By this afternoon.”

Aubrey blinked. “You didn’t mention a secondary layout.”

“I did,” Sandra said, already walking away. “You just weren’t listening.”

Aubrey wanted to scream into a cushion. She settled for silently opening a new file and accepting that today was going to keep punching her in the face.

By noon, she hadn’t eaten. She hadn’t stretched. She hadn’t moved except to click undo and redo over and over. Her head hurt. Her neck hurt. Everything hurt.

Her phone buzzed again.

Caleb: Eat something.

She frowned at the screen.  

Was he psychic? Did he have cameras? Was this some coach superpower?

She typed:

Aubrey: Maybe later.

Caleb: Now.

She stared at the one-word message like it was bossing her more effectively than her actual boss. After another thirty minutes of struggling with fonts and spacing, she finally pushed away from her desk and left the building before Sandra could materialize again.

She walked without thinking. Just moving. Just letting her brain cool down. She passed a bakery, two dogs fighting over a stick, and a kid crying because he dropped his ice cream.

She understood the kid.

She stopped at a corner store, grabbed a pre-made sandwich, and stepped back outside.

Then someone shouted her name.

“Aubrey!”

She turned.

Chase jogged toward her carrying a paper bag and a drink tray. He looked like he had been wandering around waiting to spot her.

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

“I was nearby,” he said.

“You always say that.”

“Because I’m always nearby,” he said. “This city isn’t that big.”

She gave him a look.

“Okay,” he said. “Fine. I guessed you’d escape the office around now. So I hovered.”

“You hovered.”

“Yes.”

“That’s not normal behavior.”

“That’s subjective.”

He handed her one of the drinks. “It’s iced tea. Not coffee. You look like you have enough caffeine in your bloodstream to power a building.”

She took it because she was too tired to argue. “Thanks.”

He leaned against the wall next to her. “So. How’s the circus today?”

“Worse.”

“That tracks.”

Aubrey took a sip of the tea. It was actually good. Annoyingly good.

Chase watched her drink it. “You know, you don’t have to keep pretending you can survive this job without complaining.”

“I’m not pretending.”

“You absolutely are.”

She didn’t respond.

After a moment, Chase nudged her shoulder lightly. “Hey. If you really hate it, quit.”

“I can’t.”

“You can. You won’t. Different things.”

Aubrey exhaled. “Can we not talk about quitting right now? I’m already barely holding myself together.”

“Okay,” he said softly. “Then talk about something else. Or don’t talk. I’m fine with silence.”

That threw her a little.  

She didn’t associate Chase with silence.

They stood there for a few minutes, watching cars go by, drinking iced tea like it was medicine.

Finally, Aubrey said, “I should get back.”

“I’ll walk you.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know,” he said. “Still doing it.”

He walked with her halfway, then stopped at the corner.

“If you need a ride home later, tell me,” he said. “Or if you need to scream into a pillow. Or break something. I’m flexible.”

She almost laughed. “I’m not breaking anything.”

“Yet,” he corrected.

She shook her head and walked back toward her building.

The rest of the afternoon dragged by. She submitted both layouts at 2:51 p.m., seven minutes before the “deadline,” though she knew Sandra would say something was wrong anyway.

By five, she hadn’t heard anything.  

Which, in this office, meant everything.

At six, her phone buzzed again.

Caleb: Hanging in there?

Aubrey looked at the message for a long moment before replying.

Aubrey: Barely.

Caleb: You need anything?

Aubrey stared.

What did she need?

Food? Sleep? A new boss? A new identity? A portal to another dimension?

She typed the simplest thing:

Aubrey: I don’t know.

Caleb: That’s okay.

Something about that response hit her harder than it should have.

She put her phone face down and leaned back in her chair.

Two men she met less than a week ago were checking on her more than anyone she actually knew. She didn’t know what to do with that.

She shut down her computer at seven and walked out of the office. The air outside felt fresher than it should have. Not good. Just better.

At the corner, she paused.

She didn’t know who she expected to see—Caleb, maybe. Or Chase.  

Or no one.

Instead, she found herself walking without deciding where to go first.

She wasn’t going home yet.

Not tonight.