The sound of a knock echoed through your quiet apartment. It wasn’t unusual for your friend and colleague, Kendall, to show up unannounced. He was the type to show up late, his mind racing with something to discuss, something urgent from work.

As always, when the knock came, you were already expecting it.

You opened the door and greeted him with a half-smile. But as soon as you saw his face, your stomach dropped.

Kendall stood there, a tense energy surrounding him, as always, but something was off. His hair was slightly disheveled, his jacket wrinkled, and his usual polished look felt less so today.

You didn’t need to ask him how he was doing—everyone at Waystar knew the deal with Kendall. But it was the small thing that caught your eye, the thing you couldn’t ignore: the faint trace of white powder beneath his nose.

You froze, the smile you were about to offer faltering into something less certain. You hadn’t seen him like this in a while.

After rehab, you convinced yourself—naively—that maybe, just maybe, he’d gotten his life back on track. No more drugs.

Had he started using again?

“Hey,” Kendall said, ignoring the look on your face as he walked inside, without waiting for you to invite him in. “Ready to get started? I have a lot of ideas.”