Kind regards,
Edith Hughes
Graduate Recruitment Team
Castor & Wyatt London
I read it again, slower this time, trying to decide if I’m misunderstanding something. Unease pricks the back of my mind—not enough to draw conclusions, but sufficient to tug my attention taut.
Then I move to the second email, and the subject line knocks the air from my chest:
From:[email protected]
To:Olivia Bennett
Subject:Change to Your Employment Offer – Baxter & Company (New York Office)
Dear Ms. Bennett,
Thank you for your continued engagement with Baxter & Company.
We are writing to inform you that in light of recent changes to our firm-wide headcount allocations for the upcoming intake cycle, we are unable to proceed with your previously extended and accepted offer for the Associate Consultant position in our New York office.
We understand the significance of this update and apologize for any disruption it may cause. Please note that this decision results solely from broader staffing constraints and does not reflect on your qualifications, performance in our selection process, or future potential with the firm.
Thank you for your understanding, and we wish you every success in your future endeavors.
Sincerely,
Human Resources
Baxter & Company
This time, the shock sweeps through me in a single, disorienting wave.
Two rescissions. Within twenty-four hours.
My brain tries to walk a line between rational analysis and the first edges of panic, but there is nothing about this that fits. The statistical probability alone is absurd.
A soft knock at the door breaks the spiral.
“Baby?” Nathaniel’s voice carries that familiar warmth, threaded through with the expectation of an ordinary morning.
Before I can respond, the door eases open and he steps inside, already beaming. The moment he sees me awake, his expression brightens even further.
“Good. You’re up.” He crosses to the bed with that smooth, decisive stride of his and leans down to kiss my temple, brushing my hair back in the way he often does without thinking. “Breakfast is ready.”
I try for a smile, something small and passable. It doesn’t hold.
He notices, but for now the concern he feels manifests only as a slight pause, a flicker of curiosity.
“Come on,” he murmurs, straightening and extending his hand. “Before it gets cold.”
I let him guide me off the bed. My body follows him toward the doorway, but my mind stays lodged in those two emails.
Nathaniel keeps me close as we walk down the hall, his palm steady at the small of my back, his thumb tracing a slow pathover my shirt. “I added chocolate chips to yours. Thought you deserved them after this week.”
My attempt at a laugh comes out weak.
