Anastasia
The days slipped into each other, a blur of lights, half-empty coffee cups, and the constant hum of keyboards. Morning bled into night, and night into morning again, with no real pause in between.
Our department wasn't the only one caught in this whirlwind; every floor of the company was in the same suffocating rhythm. The tension could be felt in the very air; it clung to the walls, sharp and heavy, like invisible smoke no one could breathe away.
It was a race against time. It's a do-or-die situation; no one wants to lose his or her job, and when you are put under pressure, you will know where you stand.
The deadlines loomed like vultures, circling over our heads, reminding us that any mistake, any delay, could send months of effort crashing to the ground. We barely looked at clocks anymore.
Going home had become a foreign concept. The office itself turned into a strange half-home for everyone, desks became beds, chairs turned into pillows, and the pantry was more of a lifeline than a break spot.
Some people were luckier than others. Those with spouses or partners had a small comfort, someone who cared enough to walk into this madhouse and bring them what they needed.
I watched it happen more times than I cared to count. A husband dropping by with clean clothes, a wife slipping in with hot homemade food, someone's boyfriend leaving a bag of toiletries at reception. These quiet, thoughtful gestures were the only proof that outside these walls, life still existed.
Zoey, my teammate, was one of those lucky ones. Her fiancé, Eric, was a tall, easygoing man who made everyone smile just by showing up. He came almost every evening, sometimes with takeout, sometimes with something as simple as her favorite drink.
He never minded waiting by her desk until she could take a short break, and he always left with a kiss pressed gently to her temple before walking out.
It shouldn't have bothered me. But it did. Anyway
Not in the way of jealousy, I was genuinely happy for her. Zoey deserved that kind of devotion. Yet each time Eric appeared, it reminded me of what I didn't have. I didn't have anyone waiting at home or anyone walking through those glass doors just to check if I was eating properly.
My phone remained silent except for work updates. My family had no idea about the sudden change of events that swallowed my life. I had chosen silence, telling them nothing.
How could I?
If I mentioned the truth, that I barely slept, that I hadn't seen the sun in days, that my skin had turned pale and dull under the office lights, they would only worry. And I didn't want that. So instead, I swallowed the discomfort and smiled whenever Zoey teased me about how lucky she was.
Everyone around me looked the same anyway.
The glamorous image of a top company, the kind you see in magazines, was gone. Stripped bare. We all looked like shadows of ourselves: sunken eyes, dry lips, clothes wrinkled from too many hours of wear, hair tied back in messy knots. Some had dark circles so heavy they looked bruised. Perfume had faded into the sharper scent of stress and exhaustion.
It was the price of chasing perfection in this relentless world.
By the time evening came, I was certain the office would eat me alive. My body felt heavy, my mind foggy, my hands aching from typing. Still, I pushed forward, trying to drown in spreadsheets and drafts so I wouldn't think too much.
And then.
"Surprise."
I blinked, the word cutting through the haze. When I turned, Talia was standing there, a wide smile on her face, holding a paper bag that smelled faintly of fresh food.
"Talia!" I almost jumped from my chair. Relief rushed through me like warm sunlight after days of rain. I didn't realize how badly I needed to see her until that moment.
"I thought I'd stop by. You've been ghosting me, Missy," she teased, pulling up a chair beside me. "And don't even try to blame work. I can see work written all over your face."
I laughed softly, shaking my head. "You have no idea."
"I can guess." She pulled out two sandwiches from the bag and pushed one toward me. "Eat before you collapse. Honestly, Ana, do you ever stop to breathe?"
Her concern wrapped around me tighter than the food in my hands. "You're the best, you know that?"
"I'll try," she said with a wink. "Seriously, though, you need balance. Work is not worth dying for. If your boss doesn't understand that, then." She stopped herself and shrugged. "Anyway, I'm not here to lecture. Just… don't disappear on me again."
We ate together, talking about small things, her week, her parents' latest antics, a funny show she'd been binge-watching. For a brief moment, the office didn't feel so cold. Her laughter filled the cracks I hadn't noticed in myself.
But time was greedy.
Soon she stood up, brushing crumbs from her lap. "I should let you get back. You look like you're drowning in files."
"Unfortunately," I sighed. "Thanks for coming though. You don't know how much I needed this."
Her smile softened. "Anytime. Call me, okay?"
"Okay."
When she left, the emptiness rushed back in, but it didn't hurt as much. She had given me a small pocket of warmth to carry through the night.
I leaned back in my chair, closing my eyes for just a second, letting her presence linger in my thoughts. Then I forced myself forward again, fingers pressing into the keyboard.
The work wasn't going to finish itself.
And I wasn't going to let it break me.
And that is a promise, for sure.