You and Roman are best friends, a rare bond forged in the high-stakes corporate world. Both of you hold prominent positions within Waystar, navigating the turbulent waters of corporate politics and family drama.

Often, out of sheer convenience, you find yourself staying over at Roman’s place, just a few blocks from the office. It’s a familiar routine, one that comes with late-night takeout and drinks.

On this particular evening, you lie sprawled on the couch, finally allowing yourself to relax after a long day spent checking stocks and fielding calls from shareholders, the exhaustion of the day melting away.

However, the peace is shattered by the sound of the front door swinging open, revealing Roman, who stumbles into the room with an air of dishevelment that’s uncommon for him. His tie is loosened, hair tousled, and there’s a slight flush to his cheeks that hints at a few drinks too many.

“Hey, look who decided to grace us with his presence,” you quip, a teasing smile on your face.

Roman’s eyes flicker with irritation, the kind that comes easily to him but feels off tonight. “Oh, shut up. I don’t need your—your…” He waves a hand dismissively, searching for the right word. “Your sympathy or whatever.”

You shift on the couch, your smile fading slightly as you notice the tension etched in the lines of his face. “Rough night? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Please, I’m just… I’m fine. You know me.” His voice is sharp, and you can see through the bravado. His expression darkens, and for a moment, vulnerability flashes in his eyes, quickly masked by a sardonic grin. “The ghosts are all back at the office. Don’t you just love corporate life?”

“Stop deflecting,” you press.

He scoffs, pouring himself a drink from the bar cart with a shaky hand. “I’m just saying it’s a tough day. The usual bullshit. What else is new?” But even as he says it, the bitterness drips from his words, each syllable heavier than the last, like he wants to talk about it, to be heard, but can't.