Sunday morning came with bruising clarity.
Gene showed up at the coffee shop ten minutes early, ordered an Americano, and sat at a corner table where he could see the door. His hands were shaking slightly. He wasn't sure if it was nerves or residual hangover from yesterday's wine marathon with Mei.
Steven arrived at exactly 10 AM—punctual as always—looking almost as wrecked as Gene felt. Unshaven, wearing jeans and a t-shirt Gene had never seen him in before, dark circles under his eyes that makeup couldn't hide.
He sat down without ordering anything.
"Thanks for meeting me," Steven said.
"Yeah."
They sat in silence for a moment. Outside, Taipei Sunday traffic was lighter than usual. Families on scooters, couples walking dogs, normal people living normal lives.
"I've been thinking about what you said," Steven started. "About using people up. About ending up alone." He stared at the table. "You were right. And it's not the first time someone's told me that. Mei said it. Diana said it. My father's been saying it for years."
"But you're still doing it."
"Yeah." Steven finally looked up, met Gene's eyes. "Because I don't know how to do anything else. The work is… it's the only thing that makes sense to me. Relationships are messy and unpredictable and I'm terrible at them. But deals? Investments? Building things? I'm good at that. I know the rules."
"So what are you saying? That you can't change?"
"I'm saying I don't know if I want to change." Steven's voice was raw. "Everyone keeps telling me I need better work-life balance, that I need to prioritize relationships, that I'm going to regret this when I'm old and alone. And maybe they're right. But the truth is, I'd rather be alone and building something that matters than… whatever the alternative is."
Gene took a long drink of coffee, buying time to think.
"Then why are you here?" he asked finally. "If you're not going to change anything, what's the point of this conversation?"
"Because I don't want to lie to you anymore." Steven's hands were flat on the table, fingers spread. "I'm going to keep working seventy-hour weeks. I'm going to keep taking calls at 3 AM. I'm going to keep pushing people harder than they probably should be pushed. That's who I am. And if you stay, that's what you're signing up for."
"And if I can't do that?"
"Then you should leave. No hard feelings. I'll write you a recommendation that'll get you into any fund in Asia. We'll stay friends if you want. But I'm not going to pretend I'm going to become someone I'm not."
Gene thought about Irvine. About pottery studios and balanced meals and weekends that actually existed. About Mei's question: would he still be doing this if Steven disappeared?
"Can I ask you something?" Gene said.
"Yeah."
"Why me? You could've hired anyone. People with MBAs from better schools, people with more experience. Why did you bring me on so fast?"
Steven was quiet for a long moment.
"Because you reminded me of me," he said finally. "Five years ago, when I was just starting out. Hungry, smart, willing to bet everything on something that might fail. And I thought… I don't know. I thought maybe if I invested in you, if I helped you succeed, it would prove that this life isn't just about being alone. That you could do it better than I did."
"That's a lot of pressure to put on someone."
"Yeah. I know. I'm sorry." Steven rubbed his face. "I'm realizing I'm not great at boundaries. Or mentorship. Or most things that aren't work."
"You're not terrible at all of it."
"No?"
"No. You're just… you're like a machine that only has one setting. And that setting is 'maximum intensity' all the time." Gene leaned back. "The problem isn't that you care too much about work. It's that you expect everyone else to care exactly as much as you do."
"Is that fixable?"
"I don't know. Is it?"
Steven didn't answer right away. A barista dropped something behind the counter—a crash, some cursing, nervous laughter. Life going on around them while they sat in this weird bubble of honesty that felt both awful and necessary.
"I can try," Steven said eventually. "I can try to be better about expectations. About respecting that you have a life outside work. But Gene—" He leaned forward. "I need you to be honest with me too. If I'm pushing too hard, if I'm crossing lines, you have to tell me. Not wait until you're about to crack and then explode at me in a conference room."
"Deal. But you have to actually listen when I do."
"I'll try."
"Not try. Actually do it."
"Okay. Actually do it." Steven's mouth twitched into something almost like a smile. "You've gotten more assertive."
"Mei said I needed to grow a spine."
"Mei's usually right about these things." Steven finally stood up to order coffee. "You want another one?"
"Yeah. Thanks."
While Steven was at the counter, Gene's phone buzzed. Lin Yue.
*So??? Are you quitting or staying? The suspense is killing me*
*Still figuring it out*
*That's code for "I'm staying but pretending I'm not sure." I know you Gene*
Gene put his phone away. Was Lin Yue right? Had he already decided?
Steven came back with two coffees and a pastry he split between them.
"So," Steven said. "What do you actually want? Not from me, not from this job. What do you want from your life?"
Gene had been asking himself that question for days. Still didn't have a complete answer.
"I want to build something that lasts," he said slowly. "Not just make money. Not just prove I can hang with rich people. I want to look back in twenty years and see something I made that mattered."
"And you think you can do that here? With me?"
"Maybe. If we can figure out how to work together without one of us ending up in a hospital or therapy or both."
Steven laughed—a real sound, not bitter this time. "That's a low bar."
"It's a realistic bar."
They drank their coffee. Ate the pastry. Talked about the Australian deal and whether it was worth revisiting with better terms. Argued about the Shenzhen startup—Gene still thought it was too risky, Steven thought the tech was worth gambling on.
It felt almost normal. Almost like they were just two people who worked together instead of whatever complicated mess they'd become.
"I have one condition," Gene said as they were getting ready to leave.
"What?"
"One weekend a month, I'm completely off. No emails, no calls, nothing. I need that or I'm going to burn out."
Steven hesitated. Gene watched him wrestle with it, saw the part of him that wanted to say no, that wanted to argue that deals don't care about weekends.
"Okay," Steven said finally. "One weekend a month. Completely off."
"And I want to take actual lunch breaks. Like, leave the office, eat food, exist as a human for thirty minutes."
"Don't push it."
"I'm serious."
"Fine. Lunch breaks. Anything else?"
"Yeah. Stop comparing me to yourself five years ago. I'm not you. I'm not trying to be you. Let me figure out my own version of this."
Steven looked at him for a long moment. "Okay. Fair."
They left the coffee shop together, stepped out into humid Taipei air. Sunday morning noise washed over them—scooters, someone's grandmother yelling at a fruit vendor, pop music bleeding from a nearby shop.
"So you're staying?" Steven asked.
"Yeah. I'm staying." Gene felt something settle in his chest—not relief exactly, more like resolution. "But we're doing this my way too now. Not just yours."
"That sounds terrifying."
"Good. You could use some terror in your life."
Steven smiled—a real one this time, reaching his eyes. "You know what? You're probably right."
They walked back toward the office together, not because they were working today, but because Steven's apartment was that direction and Gene's wasn't far either. They talked about nothing important—where to get good dumplings, whether the typhoon season would be bad this year, Lin Yue's next party.
It felt normal. Like maybe they could actually do this without destroying each other.
Gene's phone buzzed. Mei.
*Drinks tonight? I want to hear how the talk went*
*Sure. But you're buying*
*Deal*
As Gene pocketed his phone, he realized something. Three months ago, he'd come to Taipei chasing some vague idea of success, of mattering, of breaking into a world he barely understood.
Now he had friends. He had a job that challenged him. He had boundaries he was willing to fight for.
It wasn't the story he'd thought he was writing. But maybe it was better.
"You good?" Steven asked.
"Yeah," Gene said. And for the first time in weeks, he actually meant it. "I'm good."