Liam stood in the glass-walled HR meeting room on Monday morning, his hands resting casually on the back of a chair, but his mind a vortex of calculations.
Emilia Rook sat across from him, her tablet open, a mug of black coffee steaming beside her. She wore the same professional neutrality as always — the expression of someone who had heard every version of every excuse but kept the gears turning regardless.
"So," she began, "tell me a bit more about the family business. You said it's in transition?"
Liam smiled — confident, warm, completely manufactured.
"Yeah. My uncle's retiring, and my cousins are pulling me in to help bridge the gap. It's been a thing for a while, but now they're pushing harder. Not full-time yet, but... you know, family."
Emilia nodded, typing briefly.
"And what's the timeline looking like?"
Liam hesitated. Not too soon, he told himself. Keep it vague enough to stall but just real enough to be believable.
"Honestly, it's still flexible," he said. "They're waiting on some paperwork approvals, possibly Q3 before anything becomes permanent. I just didn't want to leave anyone hanging last-minute, especially with Mateo scaling down."
That part was true, at least — Mateo had scaled down. Liam just hadn't expected to be caught in the fallout.
After the meeting, he returned to his desk and stared blankly at the login prompt for the test suite.
The P.T.L. dashboard glared back: 76 cases pending.
His fingers hovered above the keyboard, but he didn't move.
Instead, he opened a spreadsheet — not the one he was supposed to work on — and began crafting a "business transition plan" for the fake family company he had just described.
He added fake logos. Listed fake deliverables. Even gave it a name:
Vos & Kin Importers – Cross-Border Agricultural Ventures.
It looked ridiculous.
But it helped him breathe.
Later that afternoon, Mateo returned from physio and walked slowly to his desk, one shoulder in a temporary brace. He lowered himself gently into his chair with a wince.
Liam looked up.
"Rough session?"
Mateo smiled faintly. "I'll live."
"You're still managing to log in though?"
"Only for light tasks. No strain stuff."
Liam tried to keep his face neutral, but the heat was rising in his throat.
He was the healthy one. The one everyone used to watch. And here he was — dragging, delaying, covering, and still stuck in the task.
That evening, as he passed the break room, he overheard Emilia speaking to Anika in a low voice.
"...we've posted the job externally," Emilia said. "But it'll take time."
"Liam's really leaving, then?" Anika asked.
"That's what he says."
There was a pause.
Then Anika said, "Let's see if he does."
When Liam got home that night, he stood in front of his bathroom mirror, brushing his teeth in silence.
He studied his reflection — the man who always knew what to say, always had a plan, always wore the spotlight like cologne.
Now he was lying to buy time from a task he still had to do, pretending to leave a job he wasn't ready to leave, and putting up a performance for people who were starting to see through the act.
He spat.
And muttered, "You're starting to believe your own script."