Chapter 2

My friends often chatted about the latest movie releases and their weekend camping trips—all of them conversations I couldn't join. That kind of life just felt like it belonged to a different, parallel world altogether.

I would just lower my head, pretending to reply to an endless stream of work messages.

Whenever my stomach flared up, I'd swallow a handful of antacids. Once the medicine kicked in and the burning sensation was forcibly suppressed, I would go right back to sitting in front of my computer.

Every time my body sounded an alarm, I never said a word about it and just gritted my teeth, pushing through with sheer willpower.

By the third week of pulling all-nighters, my heart began to skip a beat every now and then. I'd splash cold water on my face in the restroom, then head back to the screen to walk through the project logic with perfect ease.

During our morning meetings, Steven would often say, "Look at our teammate here! Now that's what you call dedication! That's what 'taking ownership' really looks like!"

My stomach would churn every time I heard him say that.

There were things I wanted to tell him, too. I wanted to tell him that I'd had a ringing in my right ear for a week straight. That my lower back ached so much I could barely sit. That I hoped, once this project wrapped up, I might be granted some time off during which I wouldn't have to answer a single phone call.

But I was afraid. I was afraid that if I admitted I couldn't keep going, I'd betray his trust and become the person who dropped the ball at the most critical moment. I was afraid of seeing the disappointment in his eyes, of hearing him ask me if I just wasn't pushing myself hard enough.

I was afraid that my own personal "discomfort" might become the final straw that crushed the team's morale.

Later that night, I remained in the empty office building, working overtime again.

My medical check-up report lay in my email inbox. The attachment displayed a few lines in bold that stood out, shocking and stark.

"Abnormal cardiac enzyme levels, suggesting possible myocardial injury. Signs of severe sleep deprivation and prolonged physiological stress. Abnormal hormone levels consistent with chronic stress.

"Immediate cessation of work, adequate rest, and urgent medical evaluation are strongly recommended. Continued overexertion may increase the risk of serious cardiac complications, including sudden cardiac death."

As the sky outside began to pale with the first light of dawn, I finally made up my mind.

If my body were to truly collapse—if I became a liability to the project, causing everyone's hard work to go to waste—then perhaps leaving voluntarily before that happened would be the most ideal and professional choice.

My phone vibrated with a text message from Steven. He said, "I've reviewed the materials, and they're excellent! Get some shut-eye—we've got a meeting at 9:00 am sharp. Let's win this battle together! I know you can do it!"

I stared at the final line he wrote on the screen. My fingertips felt ice-cold as I slowly typed back a single-word reply.

"Okay."

Voices and footsteps began to echo through the office building. A new day and a new battle were just about to begin.

I closed the tab containing my medical report and opened a new document, naming it "Resignation Letter and Handover Instructions".

After printing it out, I folded the letter and placed it right in the center of my keyboard.

I then walked over to my office locker and opened the bottom compartment. Inside, a few personal items lay scattered, and among them was a small pill bottle.

I had bought these sleeping pills back when the stress was so intense that I couldn't sleep at all.

As I gazed at the white pills in my palm, a memory surfaced in my head. I remembered the team celebrating our last successful round of funding. Everyone's faces were lit and bright with joy back then.

A sharp ache rose in my chest just then, and hot tears spilled onto the pills. Suddenly, I felt a flicker of fear and a pang of reluctance. However, I closed my eyes and told myself, "Don't be so selfish."

Leaving now was the final bit of support I could offer them.

I took a deep breath, shoved all the pills into my mouth, and swallowed them down with a gulp of cold water. They tasted bitter on my tongue, but the sensation vanished almost instantly.

Outside the window, the light grew brighter. The birds began to sing and chirp merrily, but I closed my eyes, feeling utterly exhausted and longing for some proper sleep more than anything in the world.

I didn't know how much time passed, but some time later, I seemed to have "woken up" from my sleep.

My body felt weightless. Looking down, I saw my body still slumped over the workstation with my cheek pressed against the keyboard, just like those brief naps I'd taken during countless nights of overtime.

So, I had really just "logged off" like that. But now, I didn't know where to go from here.

Suddenly, I thought of Todd Addams, the youngest member on our team, who was always trailing behind me, asking one question after another.

Last night, after I finished revising the final version of the presentation deck, he had quietly poured me a mug of hot water. And now, I felt an urge to see him one last time before leaving.

No sooner had the thought crossed my mind than the scenery around me shifted instantly.

I found myself standing outside a private room in an upscale fine dining restaurant. Through a gap in the sliding door, I saw Todd raising his glass. There was an expression I had never seen on his face before—relaxed and rather sly.

Seated around him were not our colleagues, but several individuals in business-casual attire, their wristwatches catching the light with a subtle, understated gleam.

My gaze fell upon a briefcase Todd had casually set aside. It was a bespoke piece from a luxury brand, one I had once spotted in Steven's office. He'd claimed it was a gift from an important client.

But how could Todd have possibly—

Just as I leaned in closer, Todd's phone vibrated. He glanced at the screen and politely excused himself, his smile remaining unchanged as he said, "Sorry, I have to take this call from home."