"Pearl."
I looked up from my laptop.
My supervising attorney stood at the edge of my desk, expression unreadable in the way lawyers perfected early.
"They're here," she said. "Get ready for the presentation."
My heart thudded once hard, then settled somewhere between my ribs.
"Remember," she continued, lowering her voice, "polish your points. Speak slowly. The contract depends on it."
I nodded. "I know."
She paused, then softened just a little. "You've got this."
As she walked away, the office seemed to grow louder. Phones ringing. Printers humming. Conversations layered over each other behind glass walls. The smell of coffee lingered in the air ,sharp, grounding.
I stood and straightened my green suit jacket.
When I caught my reflection in the window, I barely recognized the woman staring back. Snatched. Focused. A few weeks at the gym had already done their quiet work -nothing dramatic, but enough to change the way I held myself. My hair was neat. My face calm. My eyes steady.
"You've got this," I whispered to my reflection. "You really do."
My hands trembled just slightly as I picked up my tablet.
This was my first major presentation in months. The first time I was stepping forward instead of hiding behind case notes and research memos. The first time since everything fell apart that my mind ,not my pain was being tested.
My phone buzzed.
"Boardroom," the assistant said. "Now."
The boardroom was already full when I walked in.The atmosphere was warm and refreshing as if i wasn't feeling like vanishing.In everything, the smell of money and success was in the air.
Long polished table. Bottled water untouched. Leather chairs occupied by men in tailored suits and neutral expressions. People who made decisions that shifted lives quietly.
Introductions were exchanged. Names. Titles. Polite nods.
I took a breath.
Then I began.
"Thank you for meeting with us today," I said, voice steady despite the pounding in my chest. "I'll be walking you through how our firm can support your expansion while minimizing regulatory risk."
I tapped the screen.
"Our approach focuses on compliance without compromising efficiency. We believe prevention is more cost-effective than litigation —and our track record reflects that."
One of the men leaned back. "How do you ensure adaptability across jurisdictions?"
"By building frameworks, not shortcuts," I replied. "Our strategies are designed to evolve with policy changes rather than react to them."
Questions followed. Tough ones. I answered them all.
That's when I felt it.
A gaze.
Not aggressive. Not impatient.
Intent.
I glanced up,and my breath caught.
Damon Green.
For a second, the room blurred.
High school memory slid into place effortlessly. The quiet rich kid. Always composed. Always distant. The boy who transferred early and left behind half-finished stories.
Now he sat there, sleeves rolled just enough to show toned forearms, posture relaxed but alert. Still nerdy in essence ,still thoughtful ,but sharpened by time. Confidence sat on him naturally, not performed.
Can he get any more handsome?
I forced my focus back to the table.
I finished the presentation.
When applause followed, it felt earned.
"We'll need time to deliberate," one of the partners said. "But this has been… impressive."
Hands were shaken. Briefcases closed. Chairs scraped softly against the floor.
They filed out.
I stayed behind, opened a bottle because my throat was so dry.I started packing my laptop, willing my pulse to slow.
Then a familiar voice spoke beside me.
"So," he said, "you really meant it when you said you were going to law school."
I turned.
Damon stood there, closer now. Taller than I remembered. Smiling.
"Excuse my manners," he said, extending his hand. "Damon Green."So it was really him.
I shook it. "I remember."
"You look amazing," he added easily. "Eating good?"Well, I had just started and I was surprised it was already showing.
I laughed. "Something like that."
"You were impressive in there," he said. "Clear. Confident."
"I'm surprised you still remember me," I admitted. "You transferred early."
"How could I forget?" he said. "You were always… driven."
Before I could respond, a knock interrupted us.
"Am I interrupting?" my supervising attorney asked, eyebrow raised.
"No," Damon said smoothly. "I was just leaving."
He glanced at me. "It was good seeing you again, Pearl."
"Likewise."
After he left, my supervisor leaned against the table.
"He's fine," she said. "Where do you know that from?"
I sighed. "This is new. Aren't we supposed to be discussing legal strategy?"
She laughed. "Relax."
Then she straightened.
"We lost the contract," she said flatly.
My stomach dropped.
"…because your presentation was weak," she continued. "That guy distracted you too much. I don't think we can keep you like this."
I felt heat rush to my face.
Then she smiled.
"Got you," she said. "They just called. We got it."
Relief crashed through me so hard I had to sit down.
"I'm proud of you," she said quietly. "You did this."
She suggested drinks. Celebration.
I declined.
I went home.
The apartment was warm and loud and alive. Pizza boxes on the counter. Rose's favorite. Paul talking too much. Rose laughing with her mouth full.
For a moment we forgot how small this place was.
After they had left to sleep.I logged into a short online session with my therapist.
"You showed up today", she said," That matters."
"I did" I replied "And I didn't fall apart"
She smiled,"Progress doesn't always announce itself"
When we ended our call.I lay back and stared at the ceiling. I smiled.
The tightening of the chest , the ache ,that stops breathing , it wasn't there.I also realised that the day had passed by without thinking about Elias.
Later, lying in bed, I replayed the day. The win. The familiarity of Damon's smile.I thought he studied business,how did he end up in Law?
Well life happens and it didn't matter.
The strange comfort of being remembered.
Then I let it go.
I had done what I needed to do.
I had a family waiting for me.
And that , that was enough.