I got the JOB

I woke up with the strangest sensation: like I'd just run a marathon in my dreams. My limbs ached, my head buzzed, and my mouth tasted like nerves and stale anxiety.

Sunlight filtered through the curtains, warming the wooden floors of my room. I blinked at the ceiling, willing myself to sit up, but everything felt... suspended. The pitch. The Zoom call. Adrian's questions. His expressionless stare. The way my voice had quivered—then steadied.

"Still alive in there?" Tia's voice floated from the kitchen, followed by the faint clink of dishes.

"Barely," I croaked, dragging myself out of bed.

By the time I shuffled into the kitchen, she had two mugs of coffee ready. Mine had extra cinnamon and a dash of oat milk, just the way I liked it. She handed it over wordlessly.

"Okay," she said, crossing her arms. "Decompress. Spill. Unload. Did you have a mental breakdown in your sleep, or are we celebrating today?"

I sat down heavily at the table, hands wrapped around the warm mug. "I kept thinking about it all night. Every question he asked. Every silence. I don't even know if I passed or failed. I just... feel like I left a piece of myself on that Zoom call."

Tia slid a plate of scrambled eggs and toast in front of me. "You didn't fail. You showed up, Jazz. You answered with honesty and strategy. You were nervous, but you didn't crumble. That's more than most people would've managed with Adrian Wolfe grilling them like a steak."

A reluctant smile tugged at my lips. "You think so?"

"I know so. And when that email comes through, it's going to say, 'Welcome aboard, Jasmine Ford. You're a badass.'"

We ate in silence for a few minutes, the kind that felt easy, grounding. Then my phone buzzed.

Chris.

Chris: Morning. Just a heads up—I'm swamped today. Meetings nonstop. Talk later?

I frowned, thumb hovering over the screen.

Tia noticed. "Let me guess. The bare minimum strikes again?"

"He says he's busy. All day."

Tia raised a brow. "He's always busy when it's convenient."

I shrugged, trying to sound unaffected. "Maybe he really is."

"Or maybe he's just not making time. There's a difference."

I didn't reply. Because deep down, I knew she was right.

Another ping. This time, it was an email. From Slate and Forge.

I opened it slowly.

Subject: Offer of Employment – Slate and Forge

I gasped.

"What?" Tia leaned over. "No way."

"They're offering me the job," I whispered. "Full-time. Starting tomorrow. They said the pitch was 'bold and strategic.'"

Tia shrieked and jumped up, nearly knocking over her chair. "YES! You did it! Oh my God, Jazz, you did it!"

I was too stunned to speak. Relief crashed over me in waves. Not just relief—validation. Joy. Gratitude. A little disbelief.

Tia spun around and grabbed her phone. "This calls for a celebration. I'm texting the twins."

"Wait—what? Chloe and Zoey?"

"Obviously. You're employed now. You can't sulk on your couch like a corporate ghost."

Ten minutes later, we were in Tia's room, picking outfits like it was prom night. The twins responded instantly, excited to meet us at a rooftop lounge they loved.

"Chloe and Zoey always know the best spots," Tia said, holding up a glittery crop top. "Too much?"

"Depends on the lighting," I smirked.

Chloe and Zoey Andrews were impossible to forget. Identical in face but wildly different in vibe, the twins were our mutual friends from an industry mixer two years ago. Chloe, the structured perfectionist, worked as a luxury event planner. Zoey, her free-spirited twin, was a software engineer who moonlighted as a DJ.

They were the kind of friends who always showed up with lipstick, money, and gossip. Fiercely loyal, occasionally chaotic, but always fun.

When we arrived at Lune—their chosen spot for the night—they were already at a velvet booth, sipping lavender gin cocktails.

"About damn time!" Chloe called, standing up to hug us.

Zoey grinned, pulling me into a squeeze. "Is this the newly hired legend herself?"

"That's me."

"Say less. Drinks are on us."

The night unfolded like a haze of laughter, stories, and little dance breaks. Chloe told us about a wedding client who insisted on live swans. Zoey had tales from a tech conference gone wild. Tia was glowing with pride beside me, as if my job offer had been hers too.

"I'm so proud of you," Zoey said, raising her glass. "Here's to more wins, less stress, and no men ruining the mood."

"Speaking of men," Chloe said, narrowing her eyes, "where's Loverboy?"

I hesitated. "He texted. Said he's swamped with work."

All three of them rolled their eyes in unison.

"Convenient," Zoey muttered.

Chloe was sharper. "He better not be out pretending to be single."

I laughed, but it felt hollow.

Later that night, we moved to the lounge's rooftop. The city lights glimmered below. Music thumped in the background. I was finally starting to relax.

Until I saw him.

Chris.

He was by the bar. And he wasn't alone.

There was a woman beside him—tall, stunning, in a burnt-orange dress. His arm was around her waist. She laughed at something he said.

My heart dropped.

Tia saw him at the same time. "You've got to be kidding me."

Chloe turned. "Is that...?"

"Chris," I said, coldly.

He looked up.

And froze.

I walked over before I could talk myself out of it.

"Hi," I said, voice level.

Chris pulled away from the woman, clearing his throat. "Jazz. Hey. I didn't think—uh, didn't expect to see you here."

"Obviously not."

The woman looked between us, brows raised.

Chris stepped closer. "She's just a friend."

"Interesting body language for a friend."

"Don't do this here," he muttered.

"Why? Afraid someone might see the truth?"

Tia arrived behind me, arms crossed. "Hi, Chris. Long time no see."

Chloe and Zoey flanked us like backup dancers ready for war.

The woman looked annoyed. "I'll be at the bar."

She walked off. Chris ran a hand through his hair.

"I wasn't hiding anything, Jazz."

"You said you were swamped. You sent me a one-line text. And here you are, cuddled up at a lounge with someone else."

"It's not like that."

"Then explain it to me. Because from here, it looks exactly like what it is."

His jaw clenched. "I didn't want to fight."

"And I didn't want to be lied to."

Silence fell between us. He looked... cornered. Not sorry.

"Maybe we should talk later," he said.

"No," I said, eyes meeting his. "We talk now. Or we don't talk at all."

The twins stared him down. Tia looped an arm around my shoulder.

"I'm going home," I said finally. "Congratulations, Chris. You've outdone yourself."

And I walked away, heels clicking like punctuation marks on the tile.

Behind me, I could feel the tension thick in the air.

But ahead of me, the city glowed.

And I knew I wasn't walking away from something.

I was walking toward something better.