I hang up before she can answer. I don’t need Zea to tell me whether she believes me.
I need to make sure Lily can.
Chapter 36 Lily
By the time Friday comes around, I’m so tired I don’t even have the energy to pretend I’m fine.
I’ve spent the whole week shadowing Jacquetta, reading summaries, sitting in meetings that could have been emails, and watching people argue in professional tones that somehow make everything worse. I have heard the words alignment, accountability, and clarification so many times they’ve started to feel personal.
My office looks the way I feel. Papers everywhere. Half-empty water bottle on my desk. Two granola bar wrappers beside my keyboard. My Lit with Lily notebook closed under a stack of folders, which feels symbolic in a way that makes me want to throw something.
I’m a professional, so I resist the urge.
Jacquetta steps into my office right before lunch, holding her tablet and smiling that polite HR smile that makes me want to sit up straight and smooth down my shirt. It’s creepy.
“You’re doing wonderfully this week,” she says.
“Thank you.” It comes out as almost a whisper.
“You’ve been quiet.”
“I’ve just been observing.”
“That’s good.” She claps her hands. “Observation is a key leadership skill.”
I know I’m supposed to agree, so I nod.
She sits in the chair across from me without asking. “I wanted to check in before we finalize your transition schedule.”
My stomach tightens.
Transition schedule.Those two words have been sitting on my calendar all week, getting bigger every time I look at them.
Jacquetta taps her tablet and starts listing off all my new responsibilities.
I stare at her, hoping my face doesn’t show how I’m feeling. I’m finding it more and more difficult to keep my expressions clear of my emotions lately.
“We’ll need you available later on Tuesdays and Thursdays for supervisor coaching prep, at least for the first quarter. Once you’re fully in the seat, we can evaluate workload.”
Workload. Evaluate. Fully in the seat. Every word sounds heavier than the last.
I glance at the corner of my desk where my Lit with Lily notebook lays buried. I can see the edge of the cover sticking out, bright and cheerful under all this beige and manila misery.
I look back at Jacquetta. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“If I take this role, what does balance look like?”
She smiles. “That’s something you create.”
I sit with that for a second. It’s a non-answer.
“I mean realistically,” I say. “What does leaving on time look like? What does taking lunch look like? What does not being available after hours look like?”
Her smile slips a fraction.
Not enough for most people to notice.
