Sophia sat in her corner office, the skyline stretching out before her like a mosaic of ambition and power. The glass walls shimmered in the morning light, catching the reflection of her own figure—poised, perfect, unreadable.Yet beneath the surface, she felt the fractures.Her assistant had just left after reviewing the day’s agenda, her voice brisk, professional, and efficient. Normally, Sophia would have been equally sharp, cutting through every item with precision. But this morning, her eyes had wandered more than once to the phone on her desk.The unread thread still sat there, mocking her.Couldn’t-not.Two words. Simple. Incomplete. And yet they carried the weight of every sleepless night, every half-formed reply she had written and deleted, every crack forming in the polished armour she wore so carefully.She reached for the phone, fingers hovering. For a second, her mask slipped. She typed a single word: Why?
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