I wipe under my eyes, glance at the caller ID, and nearly choke:Maria.I swipe to answer and put it on speaker before my good sense can catch up.
“Please tell me you’re sitting down,” she says by way of greeting.
“I’m at my desk,” I manage.
Tiff’s voice cuts in—apparently, it’s a group call. “Good, because if you weren’t, we were about to show up and physically press you into a chair.”
“I— Have you—” My laugh breaks in the middle and turns into something that sounds more like a sob.
“Yes, we’ve seen it,” Maria says, voice turning soft and thick. “We watched it together. Twice. I’m on my third replay.”
“He broke me,” Tiff adds. “I had plans today, and now I have to sit here and grieve every man I’ve ever dated.”
A wet, startled laugh slips out of me. “You two are ridiculous.”
“Not ridiculous. Observant. Do you understand what he just did for you?”
I glance at the tablet, the paused frame of his face mid-sentence. “He told the truth.”
“He rewrote the narrative,” Janine says quietly from beside me, surprising all three of us.
“Is that Janine?” Tiff gasps. “Janine, if you’re there, I need you to know we are available for consulting on all future Timberwolves romance disasters.”
“Duly noted.” Janine actually huffs out a small, disbelieving laugh.
“Wait, why is Janine being cute?” Maria makes a wounded noise. “What’s happening?”
“I don’t know.” I drag a hand down my face, tears spilling out that I don’t bother hiding. “I don’t know what any of this is. I had my resignation letter ready. I was about to?—”
“You were about to torch your entire life to protect him,” Tiff says gently. “Because that’s what you do. You set yourself on fire and call it ‘controlling the damage.’”
“And he just told the world he’d rather walk through it with you than watch you burn alone,” Maria finishes.
My shoulders shake as I press my fist against my mouth, trying to catch my breath, but it’s useless. The tears come hot and relentless, blurring my vision, clogging my throat. The phone is full of chaos—Tiff swearing, Maria sniffing, and Janine saying my name like she’s learning how to use it for something other than assigning tasks.
“I can’t. I don’t know how to?—”
“You don’t have to do anything right now. You don’t have to be composed or responsible for the universe.”
“We’ll stay on the line and rate the dramatic quality of each sob. I give that last one a nine-point-five.”
“Stop,” I say, laughing and crying at thesame time.
“She can actually do both,” Janine murmurs, almost to herself. “She’s still working while she falls apart because, of course, she is.”
That makes me cry harder. I drop my forehead into my free hand, shoulders hunched, every part of me shaking with the force of it. The dam doesn’t just crack; it gives way. Weeks of bracing, years of swallowing fear and shame and humiliation, all of it comes pouring out over the edges of my control. No one tries to stop me; they just stay. Janine rooted beside my desk, Maria and Tiff in my ear, and his face frozen on the screen. For once, no one is asking me to hold it together or informing me that optics matter more than my heart. They are just letting me be, to feel it all.
I don’t know how long I cry, but my eyes ache, and my body feels wrung out, emptied of the constant, aching tension I’ve been carrying like a second skin.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur automatically.
“For what?” Janine asks, and it isn’t really a question.
“Being a mess at work.”
“Sweetheart, if there was ever a day you could be a mess at work, it’s the day your fake PR boyfriend tells the world he’s in love with you for real,” Tiff deadpans, causing Maria to cackle loudly across the line.
“Not helping,” I whisper, but it's all helping.
