Everyone’s waiting to see if I’m about to snap or spiral or brush it off with a joke.
I do none. I just sit back in my chair, hands folded in my lap, and nod once in understanding.
“That’s fair,” I say.
Kai doesn’t look relieved. If anything, he looks more frustrated. He’s sitting at the far end of the conference table, arms crossed and face tight in disappointment. He’s been with me since the studio was a two-room nightmare. A lot of his time has been spent in this company.
His anger is justified.
The rest of the team is scattered around the table. I’m surrounded by tired faces and defensive postures. People who didn’t sleep much last night either, but for very different reasons.
“We worked our asses off,” Kai continues. “All of us did. And when you walked out like that?—”
“I didn’t walk out on you,” I say calmly.
“But that’s how it looks,” Maya cuts in, not unkindly. “Online. To the academy. To people who don’t know us.”
I exhale through my nose.I am so tired.
I glance at the clock on the wall. Twelve forty-seven.
I got in after Za went to bed last night and left before she woke up this morning. I didn’t even look at her door.Coward.
I shift in my seat.
“I hear you,” I say. “All of you. And I’m not gonna pretend the walkout didn’t create a mess.”
Kai snorts. “A mess is generous.”
“Okay,” I concede. “A fucking garbage pit.”
That gets a few tight laughs but not enough to ease the tension, yet still enough to let everyone breathe again.
“I’m not mad that you were upset,” Leo says from across the table. “I was upset too. We all were. But you’re the face of the studio, Frankie. When you react like that, it becomes the story.”
My phone vibrates in my pocket but I don’t check it.
“What I need to know,” Kai says, softer now, “is whether you’re gonna crash out and torch our future every time something doesn’t go our way.”
I look down at the table. The little nicks in the wood from years of stress tapping were getting deeper. There’s a metaphor here but I can’t find it.
“No,” I say. “I’m not.”
Silence again.
“I fucked up,” I continue. “I was upset. But I didn’t think about how it would land on you or the studio. That’s on me.”
Maya leans forward. “Then what’s the plan?”
Good question. Great question even.
Because while they were all refreshing Twitter (I’m never calling it X) and watching the internet explode, I was scrubbing my makeup off in a bar bathroom, and throwing up. It never even crossed my mind about doing damage control. But I don’t say that part.
“The plan,” I say carefully, “is damage control. We don’t apologize for the work. We don’t apologize for being disappointed. But we do clarify that the walkout wasn’t about disrespecting other devs. It was about frustration with an industry pattern.”
Kai studies me. “And you?”
“What about me?”
