![](/images/icon-chapters.png)
![](/images/icon-font-reduce.png)
![](/images/icon-font-add.png)
![Read with Bonus](/images/icon-union.png)
![Read with Bonus](/images/icon-union.png)
CHAPTER2
"I'm off to work," I announce, striding confidently into the small hallway adjacent to the bar area that extended into the lounge. I grab a few open letters from the counter, ones I haven't dealt with yet today. It's unusual for me to linger and act indecisively; typically, I'd already be on my way to the subway station, even though I'm early.
"Oh, here," Sarah says, sliding a white envelope from behind the toaster and holding it out to me expectantly. She wears a blank expression. "Before I forget... I know you've probably taken care of them already, as usual." Her eyes sparkle with affectionate amusement.
I take the envelope from her, examining it with a frown. It's long and devoid of any writing on the front. "What is it?" I ask, slowly accepting it with careful fingers.
"It's my half of the utilities and rent. I got paid early," she explains, her smile bright as she starts preparing her breakfast, popping slices of bread into the toaster.
"Ah, right. I've already taken care of it... thank you," I reply, slipping the envelope into my bag to deposit during lunch. I make a mental note to remind myself. Paying our bills at the beginning of each month is part of my routine, effortlessly managed due to my well-paying job with its perks.
"No surprises there, then," she mumbles, casting me an affectionate look. Cute eyes and gentle sighs accompany her sideways gaze, which I catch. I shake my head, fully aware that she prefers me to handle our living expenses. She's never been good with money, and without my organized presence, I doubt she'd remember to pay the rent on time. Taking care of things is how I prefer it—it gives me purpose, control, and the focus I need to thrive.
"I won't be home until six o'clock, Sarah. I assume you'll be at work by then. Have a wonderful day," I inform her, moving away from the breakfast bar and heading toward the main door of our apartment. As I pass the dining table, I pick up my warm jacket and smile when I reach the dark slate door.
"Oh, wait... good luck meeting your super-hot boss for the first time, Miss Anderson!" she exclaims, beaming at me with excitement, raising her eyebrows and leaning out across the countertop. Her head pops out from the kitchen at a funny angle, appearing messy but cute, and far more awake than usual. I offer a hollow smile, determined not to reveal my emotions or show any signs of weakness.
"Thanks," I reply, feeling a slight heat rise in my face as nerves hit my stomach hard. I quickly dismiss the sensation, swallowing it down like a seasoned actress.
"Are you nervous?" she probes, furrowing her brow and still leaning out a little too far to observe me adjusting my briefcase handle and putting on my jacket. I frown in response, feeling the tightening knot in my stomach intensify, but I shake my head to indicate 'no.' Admitting it to her would mean admitting it to myself, and that would only allow my nerves to overpower me, causing me to lose my edge.
That simply wouldn't do.
"Of course not. I never am," I respond. She adds quickly, "You never are!," with a grin before retreating back into her culinary world, oblivious to any unease in my demeanor. I smile once more, watching her fade from view, and wave my fingertips before heading out the door on my mission to get to work.
Sarah, dear Sarah. She has such unwavering faith in my abilities and outward composure that I often wonder if she still remembers the girl I used to be when we first met all those years ago. Does she even associate me with that version of myself?
Closing the door behind me in hushed silence, I grasp the handle for a moment, inhaling deeply and allowing myself a brief moment of stillness. I refuse to let my emotions break through my armor. Gazing down at the cool silver knob, I use it as an anchor to calm my racing nerves, suppressing any anxiety or fear that threatens to creep in.
I can do this.
This is what I've tirelessly worked for. Finally, my skills and dedication are being recognized after years of toiling and climbing the corporate ladder. I must quell the inner doubts and shed the remnants of my adolescent self, focusing solely on the tasks and responsibilities that await me today. It's exhilarating yet overwhelming, but internally, I steel myself, stilling my trembling hands as I've practiced countless times over the past decade. Each day, I have strived to become the person I am now, the composed and confident persona known as Emma Anderson.
It takes a moment before I can bring myself to step away from the door. But when I do, the protective armor envelops me, and the mask seamlessly settles upon my face. With each step, my determination strengthens, returning me to my familiar, practiced demeanor. Deep within, I find the resilience and unwavering strength to navigate through this day and every day that follows. And so, I make my way to the subway station.