Chapter 3

The next Monday, I started clearing out my office at DreamWeaver. It wasn't much, a few personal coding books, a worn-out ergonomic keyboard, a framed photo of me and Mark from college, back when his eyes held genuine affection, not just ambition.

My colleagues, the ones who' d always laughed a little too loudly at Chloe' s jokes and nodded a little too eagerly at Mark' s pronouncements, exchanged glances. Pitying, some of them. Snide, others.

"Taking a little break, Sarah?" one of the junior artists asked, a smirk playing on his lips.

I stacked my last box.

"Actually, I' ve accepted a new position," I said, my voice calm and even. "Senior Producer at Titan Interactive."

I paused, then added, "The salary is significantly higher."

The smirks vanished. Jaws literally dropped. The pity turned to shock, then a dawning, uncomfortable understanding.

My phone buzzed. It was Mark, calling from Jackson Hole. His voice was frantic, a stark contrast to his #PowerCouple Instagram posts.

"Sarah! Thank God! There's a catastrophic bug in the Starfall demo! Chloe's supposed to present it to Axiom in two hours, and it' s crashing every five minutes! You have to fix it!"

He was completely unaware I' d resigned. He probably hadn't even checked his email, too busy "networking."

"Chloe's out here hustling, making connections," he continued, his voice rising in panic and accusation. "She's been amazing, really dedicated, schmoozing these publisher guys. And you? You were just coding in your office, not being a team player. Now this happens!"

He was gaslighting me, even now. Praising Chloe for sipping champagne while the actual work, my work, was falling apart because no one else understood its architecture. My detachment was complete. His words didn't even sting anymore. They were just noise.