It was the week before Christmas, a working week as well,
Vanessa took her time getting ready that morning.
She wasn't second-guessing, she was just careful." She stood before the mirrow on her wardrobe longer than usual, She wasn't thinking about clothes or style, just about getting through the day. About showing up, doing her work, and keeping it together like any other morning. She settled on a crisp cream blouse, structured but soft, tucked neatly into a navy pencil skirt that fit like it had been tailored just for her. Sensible block heels polished, professional, forgiving. She slipped on a slim wristwatch, pearl studs, nothing flashy. Her hair went into a smooth low bun, the kind that stayed put no matter how long the day stretched. Light foundation. Mascara. Lip balm.
Boom!!! She was set.
The faint limp she'd worried about barely showed anymore. If anyone noticed, they wouldn't say anything.
She walked down to the main road and hailed a cab, She stayed in the back seat, watching people and cars move along the streets. It was just another morning, like any other.
She got to the office. Her desk was as she'd left it, the cleaners having done their usual work.
"Look who's early for once," someone joked.
She turned to see a colleague grinning.
"Don't get used to it," she said lightly.
"We'll take it while it lasts," a colleague said with a smile. She nodded, smiling, exchanging small talk as she made her way upstairs. No one tiptoed around her anymore. No soft voices. No pitying looks. That phase had passed and she was grateful for it.
At her desk, she logged in, scanned her inbox, and began responding. The rhythm came back quickly. Emails. Files. Numbers. Processes she knew like muscle memory.
Mid-morning, she stood and headed toward the coffee area.
"Hey," she said to a Alex pouring sugar into his cup. "Quick one, did the client confirm the revised figures, or are we still on the provisional set?"
He frowned, thinking. "Revised. Came in late yesterday."
"Okay. Thanks."
She poured herself another coffee, black this time, and leaned against the counter for a second, stretching her leg slightly.
"You sure you're okay?" the colleague asked casually. "You've been worked up lately, is everything alright?"
She smiled and nodded. "I am good, everything is okay with me."
Back at her desk, she dove deeper into work. She stared at the spreadsheet, frowning at a row of numbers. A tiny mismatch caught her eye, probably one she had mistyped earlier. Over the past few weeks, small mistakes had been creeping into her entries, and she corrected this one quickly, double-checking the line and making a mental note to slow down.
Some moments later, her boss appeared beside her desk.
"Vanessa. Can you step into my office for a moment?"
"Sure."
Inside, he closed the door gently and gestured for her to sit.
"I won't keep you long," he said. "I just wanted to touch base."
She folded her hands neatly in her lap. "Okay."
He leaned back slightly. "Your work has been solid since you came back, and it shows. Just be mindful there have been a few small errors in your entries that you'll want to watch out for."She smiled. "Thank you."
"There were a few issues last week," he continued. "Nothing catastrophic. But costly. And not typical of you."
Her smile didn't drop. "I'm aware. I've been reviewing my processes."
"I just need to ask honestly are you okay?"
She met his gaze squarely. "I am. I wouldn't be here otherwise."
A pause. He studied her for a second longer, then nodded.
"Alright. I trust your judgment."
"So do I," she said quietly.
Back at her desk, she exhaled slowly. Not anxious. Determined.
The day unfolded smoothly. Meetings. Calls. Quick exchanges of humor. She blended seamlessly into the flow.
Then, just after lunch, the task landed in her queue.
High priority. High value. Time-sensitive.
She straightened in her chair.
This was her territory.
She reviewed the documentation carefully, ticking off steps mentally. The system lagged briefly, forcing her to reload the page. She re-entered the data, verified the figures, cross-checked the primary requirements.
Everything aligned.
It wasn't the numbers she'd missed. It was the detail behind them. A tiny note, easy to skip, that only mattered in specific situations. This was one of those situations barely. She stopped and considered it. Technically, everything was okay. Within the allowed limits. She'd handled similar cases like this before without issue.She clicked Submit.
The confirmation message appeared.
Done.
She leaned back, took a sip of coffee, and moved on.
It was almost an hour later when the unease crept in.
a sinking feeling that something was wrong.
She reopened the file.
Scrolled through it carefully.
Her stomach sank.
"No," she whispered.
She checked the guideline again, slower this time.
The clause was there clear and strict.
This should have been flagged.
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard.
It was too late. Minutes later, her boss was at her desk again this time with another manager beside him.
"Vanessa," he said carefully. "We need to talk."
In the conference room, screens glowed with figures she recognized instantly. She explained the decision plainly and accepted the consequences without deflecting blame. Silence followed.
"This has already been escalated," her boss said. "To senior management. And the board."
She absorbed the words without reacting.
"I understand." They asked her to step out.
She sat alone in the small room, thinking about her costly mistake. Few minutes she was asked to go back to her desk. She continued her daily task like nothing happened, except few whispers around from her colleagues, trying to find out what happened. Towards the end of the day, she saw a mail which reads:
Dear Vanessa,
Following a review of recent events and internal procedures, we have decided to terminate your employment with immediate effect.
This decision was made after careful consideration and in line with company policy.
We thank you for your contributions during your time with us and wish you the best in your future endeavors.
Sincerely,
Management
She read it once.
Twice.
A third time.
Work went on around her like nothing had changed. Her colleagues talking about finishing up for the day.
Vanessa closed her personal laptop, turned off her working desktop, packed her things, straightened her desk, and handed her tag to security when they came for it. No one asked why. Most people didn't even look up.
It was almost closing time when she left. She walked out quietly, unnoticed, her job already over.