Seraphina's Point Of View
It had been two weeks.
Two full weeks since I stepped into the Headquarters as an employee instead of a problem, and not once, not even by accident had I run into any of them.
I had never been more grateful for anything in my life.
I had planned it that way. Carefully. Meticulously. Different elevator schedules. Different lunch hours. I memorized meeting rooms like escape routes and learned which corridors carried the least traffic.
Avoidance wasn't cowardice, it was survival.
And work helped.
Work always helped.
My days blurred into spreadsheets, contracts, calls, negotiations. Numbers that made sense. Clauses that behaved logically. Deals that responded to effort instead of emotion.
I poured myself into it like a drowning woman gripping driftwood, and to my quiet relief, it held.
The deals assigned to me? Closed.
Every single one.
