“Listen.” Maria clears her throat. “We won’t tell you what to do next. But the narrative is shifting. People are seeing you the way you deserve to be seen.”
“She’s right.” Jannie nods. “Emails were pouring inbefore I came here, but it's different this time. Fewer vultures and more support. The GM is panicking about image, which, frankly, is his job. My job is to ensure they don’t offer you as a sacrifice. So, consider this your official notice: You are not resigning today.”
“Janine—”
“I read your draft,” she says simply. “I reject it.”
“You— How?—”
“I keep an eye on my people.” She smiles before resting her hand on my shoulder. “We’ll deal with PR later, but right now, you need to answer one question.”
“What question?”
She looks down at the tablet, at the paused frame of Kyle mid-confession, eyes dark and earnest. “After everything he just said, after the way he chose you in front of everyone… what do you want?”
What do I want? She didn’t ask me what I can live with, not what is safest, not what will prevent the least damage. She asked what I wanted, and the answer rises so quickly it scares me. I want him. Not the version dressed up for cameras or a franchise, but the man who just looked every fear I’ve ever had about being disposable in the eye and said:No. Not her. Not this time.
My phone buzzes again in my hand, another notification sliding down from the top.
Elevator Boy
I didn’t say I loved you because of PR. I said it because it’s true.
My vision blurs instantly, tears rising so fast theyspill over before I even understand what’s happening. My fingers curl around the phone like all that exists is that single message glowing on the screen. My throat closes around a sound that’s half sob, half prayer.
“Oh my God,” Maria whispers.
“Tell us what he said, or I will hack your accounts,” Tiff squeals.
I don’t answer them. I just stare at the screen, at the simple line that feels more terrifying than any crisis headline I’ve ever managed. Something small and stubborn that’s survived every bad boss and worst-case scenario sits up straighter. I wipe my face with the back of my hand and end the call with Maria and Tiff, promising to text as soon as I can breathe again. They protest but tell me they love me, and I hang up.
When I look up at Janine, a soft, knowing smile spreads across her face. “Go.”
I nod my head and push back from my desk on unsteady legs. I grab my coat from the back of my chair and my bag from the floor. My hands are shaking, but for the first time in a long time, there’s no hesitation in the movement beneath the tremor.
I sling the bag over my shoulder and pause at the doorway. “What are you going to tell them?”
“The truth.” Janine slides her tablet under her arm and straightens her spine. “That there is no way we are going to let them build a story out of your silence. We never were.”
“Thank you.”
“Go find your boy, Torres.” She exhales,something like an apology exhaled with it. “Let someone else hold the line today.”
I nod once and step out into the hallway. I don’t know what will happen to my job, my reputation, or my carefully constructed career. All I know is he stood up in front of the world and chose me. It’s my turn to choose us back.
So, I walk, not away this time, but toward him.
Therapy Session
Kyle
Dr. Shah’s face blurs for a second before the connection sharpens. Same calm office. Same plant in the corner. Same stillness that makes my skin feel too tight. Everything on her end is steady. Everything on mine feels like flame under the ribs.
“Kyle,” she says, voice low, “I’m here. Let’s start with a breath.”
My feet won’t stop moving. I don’t even remember standing, but I’m pacing like the floor is on fire. Something halfway between a laugh and a groan drags out of me. “Breathing isn’t going to touch whatever this is.”
“It will help,” she says, not arguing, not matching the panic. “Sit if you can.”
