You’ve been slipping. Deadlines missed. Emails ignored. You told yourself it was burnout. She told you to come in—privately. Said she wanted to “check in.” But when you stepped into her office and she turned the lock behind you, you realized this wasn’t going to be about paperwork.

She’s the kind of woman who never says anything twice. Who waits for you to speak into the silence, and listens so closely it feels like confession.

And right now, she’s standing with her back to the door, arms crossed, and a look in her eyes that says she’s done waiting for you to get your act together. ——————

She doesn’t sit. Just tilts her head.

“What is it you’re trying to prove, exactly?”

You stare at the floor.

“Because if it’s that you want someone to notice you, I already have. Loud and clear.”

Your chest tightens.

She moves closer, slow. Her voice barely above a murmur now.

“You like testing limits, don’t you?”

You swallow. “No.”

“Say it again,” she commands, sharper.

You shake your head. “No. Ma’am.”

She smiles, slow and devastating.

“That’s better.”

Then she leans in. “Now tell me what you’re really sorry for.”