(Elara POV)
The email arrives at 9:12 a.m.
I know it's important the moment I see the sender.
HR doesn't email unless something has already crossed a line — either in your favor or against it.
I don't open it right away.
Instead, I sit there for a moment longer than necessary, my cursor hovering over the subject line as the office hums around me. Someone laughs near the printers. A chair scrapes softly. Phones ring and are answered and disconnected again.
The world continues.
Gather up the courage finally, I click.
Employment Milestone Update
The words blur for a second before settling.
'Congratulations on completing one year with Hale Industries.'
I reread that line twice, then a third time.
'As of today, you are eligible for full employee benefits, including medical insurance coverage effective immediately.'
Immediately.
My breath leaves me in a slow, unsteady exhale.
I scroll.
There's a digital card attached. A policy number. Instructions for hospital billing.
For a moment, nothing else exists — not the office, not the projects, not the way my work has been handled lately. Just this quiet, monumental shift in something that has ruled my life for almost a year.
I stand and walk toward the windows, phone already in my hand.
"Mom," I say the second she answers.
She hears it immediately. "What happened?"
"It's active," I say. "The insurance. It's active."
There's silence on the other end.
Then a sound not quite a sob, not quite a laugh
.
"Oh, Elara," she whispers.
"They said we can update everything today," I rush on. "The hospital doesn't need deposits anymore. They can bill directly."
"You stayed," she says softly. "You stayed even when it was hard."
I press my forehead against the glass. "It's going to be okay now."
She hums gently. "Come see me later. We'll talk about next steps."
"I will," I promise.
When the call ends, I stay there a little longer, breathing through the unfamiliar weight of relief. It isn't light. It doesn't feel like a celebration.
It feels like finally setting something heavy down.
Back at my desk, I open my laptop and return to work.
Because nothing else changes just because something good happened to me.
About an hour later, Tessa appears.
She's holding a coffee cup in one hand, tablet tucked under her arm, expression bright in a way that instantly puts me on edge.
"Elara," she says warmly. "Do you have a minute?"
"Of course," I reply.
She pulls up a chair without waiting for permission and sits sideways, crossing her legs casually.
"I just wanted to say," she begins, "you've really grown under my leadership."
My fingers still on the keyboard.
"Working under someone experienced on high-stakes projects isn't easy," she continues. "But you've adapted well."
I nod. "I've tried to learn."
"And you have," she says with a smile. "Honestly, you should be grateful. Exposure like this is invaluable."
She leans closer, lowering her voice slightly.
"I'll be getting promoted soon," she adds. "Alex has been very pleased with how smoothly things are running."
My stomach tightens at the sound of his name.
It's the way she says it — unguarded, almost familiar — as though she knows him in ways I don't. As though there's a closeness forming that isn't written anywhere official.
I have no right to feel unsettled by the thought.
And yet, I do.
"When that happens," she continues, "I'll be working even more closely with him. Strategic meetings. Decision rooms."
She pauses deliberately.
"But don't worry," she says brightly. "I'll make sure you stay on my team."
I look at her. "Thank you."
She laughs lightly. "Of course. Someone has to do the groundwork, right?"
The words are almost playful.
Almost.
"You're good at that," she adds. "Compiling. Structuring. Thinking ahead.
Honestly, half the time, I don't even need to change much."
My chest tightens.
"I prefer working behind the scenes," I say quietly.
"I know," she replies, satisfied. "That's why this works."
Her phone buzzes.
"Oh," she says, standing. "Speaking of."
A calendar notification pops up on my screen a second later.
Team Connect — Project Update (Virtual)
Host: Alexander Hale
My heart stutters.
Tessa notices my screen immediately.
"Well," she says cheerfully, lifting her coffee cup, "looks like Alex wants to thank us personally. That's exciting."
She smiles at me. "Make sure the compliance summary is ready. I'll be leading the discussion."
"Yes," I say.
She steps closer — too close — gesturing toward my screen.
"Actually," she says, leaning in, "can you pull up the expense alignment slide?"
I turn slightly to do as she asks.
That's when it happens.
The coffee spills. Not a splash. A slow, deliberate tilt.
Warm liquid spreads across my desk, soaking into my blouse, dripping onto my lap, pooling dangerously close to my laptop.
"Oh my God," Tessa gasps, stepping back. "I'm so clumsy."
I freeze.
"I'm so sorry," she continues, voice loud enough to draw attention. "Are you okay?"
Coffee drips onto the floor.
People look over.
"I—" I start.
"Oh no," she interrupts. "You're soaked. You can't join the call like that."
My phone buzzes again reminders for the meeting.
"I'll handle it," Tessa says smoothly. "Go clean up. I'll tell Alex you had an urgent issue."
She presses a stack of tissues into my hand.
"Really," she adds, voice sweet. "Don't worry about it."
I stand slowly, heart pounding.
By the time I return after cleaning myself as best as i could despite my best efforts a sricky big brown patch is clearly visible on my blouse the meeting has already ended.
The office is quiet again. On my screen, a message waits.
Great call today. Alex appreciated the clarity my report provided.
Sent by Tessa.
I stare at it until my vision blurs.
I leave office early and make my way to home slowly.
The insurance card is still on my phone. Proof that something went right today.
But it feels distant now.
I unlock my door and step inside, exhaustion settling into my bones. I sit on the edge of my bed and let the silence wrap around me.
Today, something important counted.
Just not me.