The next day at work hit like a freight train. The moment I stepped into the office, I could already feel the tension brewing. It was one of those days where you could sense things were about to go sideways, but you walked right into it anyway, hoping to survive.
I threw my bag onto my desk and glanced at my phone. Emails. Texts. Reminders. Every notification screamed "urgent," and it wasn't even 9 AM yet. Great. I groaned, rubbing my temples before heading to the meeting room for the design review.
The design team sat scattered around the table, looking half-awake and, to be honest, half-assed. I crossed my arms, leaning against the doorframe for a second before speaking.
"Okay, people," I began, my voice sharper than usual. "Let's see what we've got."
They pulled up the presentation, and the second I saw the designs flash across the screen, I nearly lost it.
"Wait, wait, wait." I raised a hand to stop them. "These are the designs?" I squinted at the screen as if somehow squinting would make them better. "Is this what we're going for now? Like, a Pinterest board of stuff I've already seen a thousand times?"
The room went dead silent. One of the junior designers, Ankit, cleared his throat nervously. "Well, uh, we thought—"
"I hired designers," I interrupted, pacing a little. "Not glorified copy-pasters. This—" I pointed at the screen, "—this isn't original. We're a brand, not some fast-fashion knockoff."
One of the senior designers, Neha, tried to jump in. "Maya, I think we were just trying to stay on trend—"
I spun to face her. "Trends are fine. But what's the point of trends if we're just regurgitating what everyone else is doing? We need to be ahead of the curve, not chasing after it like we're desperate."
Another designer, Aisha, nodded hesitantly. "But clients—"
"The clients come to us because they expect us to lead," I said, exasperated. "If they wanted basic, they could go anywhere. We need to give them something that makes them think, 'Damn, I need this in my life.' Not just something that'll look cute for an Instagram post."
The room stayed silent, and I could feel my frustration bubbling up again. I took a deep breath, trying to cool down.
"Alright," I said, pulling myself together. "We're scrapping these. Go back to the drawing board, and I want fresh concepts by the end of the day. Not tomorrow, not next week—today."
The team exchanged nervous glances but nodded. I could tell they knew I wasn't messing around. I gave them a curt nod before heading back to my office, feeling the weight of everything piling on me again.
As I sat down at my desk, my phone buzzed with a text. It was Amartya.
"How's the chaos going, boss?"
I rolled my eyes at the "boss" comment but couldn't help a small smile.
"Pure chaos. Just fired the designs for looking like Pinterest knockoffs. You?" I texted back.
Within seconds, he replied, "Living the dream. Dad's been on my case about the business again. Good times all around."
I chuckled under my breath, knowing exactly how that went for him. We were both stuck in our own pressure cookers, it seemed.
But at least, for a second, I wasn't drowning alone.
I leaned back in my chair, letting out a deep sigh as I stared at my phone. Amartya's messages always had this weird way of cutting through the stress, even when we were both dealing with our own messes. I could picture him on the other end, probably dealing with his dad's expectations and the pressure of running a business he didn't even want. It was funny in a messed-up way—we were both trapped by things we hadn't exactly signed up for but couldn't just walk away from either.
Before I could reply, my office door creaked open, and in walked Saira, my right hand at work and probably the only reason I hadn't completely lost my mind yet.
"Maya," she said in her usual no-nonsense tone, "I've got the production manager on the line, and surprise, surprise, there's another delay with the fabrics."
I let out a groan and dropped my head into my hands. "Of course, there is."
She crossed her arms, giving me a look. "Do you want me to handle it, or should I just go ahead and schedule your nervous breakdown for later today?"
I snorted, rubbing my temples as if that would somehow ease the headache forming behind my eyes. "Handle it, please. I can't deal with another crisis right now."
Saira nodded. "Got it. I'll try to light a fire under their asses. But you should probably prepare for another pushback on the delivery dates."
"Fantastic," I muttered, sinking further into my chair.
As Saira left the room, I glanced at my phone again. Amartya had sent another message.
"Meet me for drinks later? You're gonna need it."
I huffed out a laugh. He wasn't wrong. At this rate, a drink sounded like the only thing keeping me sane today. I shot him a quick reply.
"You read my mind. After work. Usual spot?"
"Done." He replied almost instantly. "And hey, don't stress too much. The world isn't gonna end because of a few crappy designs."
I shook my head, smiling at his attempt to lighten the mood. If only it were that simple.
By the time I wrapped up the day, I felt like I'd been through the wringer. The team had managed to pull together some half-decent concepts by the end of the day, but I could still feel the tension clinging to my skin like humidity. Everything felt like an uphill battle lately, and I was starting to wonder if it would ever ease up.
I grabbed my stuff and headed out, making my way to the bar where Amartya was already waiting. The second I stepped in, I spotted him at our usual booth, a drink in front of him and that signature lazy grin on his face.
"There she is," he called out as I approached, raising his glass in a mock toast. "How's the queen of chaos?"
"Exhausted," I replied, sliding into the booth across from him. "And slightly homicidal, but that's nothing new."
He chuckled, taking a sip of his drink. "Tell me about it. My dad's been on my case all day. 'When are you going to take this seriously, Amartya? You're going to have to step up sooner or later.' Blah, blah, blah."
I gave him a sympathetic look. "Still giving you grief about taking over?"
He nodded. "Yep. Same old story. Sometimes I wonder if I'm ever gonna get out from under it."
I leaned back in the booth, swirling the drink the waitress had just placed in front of me. "You ever think about just... I don't know, walking away from it all?"
Amartya laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Every damn day. But walking away isn't that easy when your entire life has been built around it, you know? It's not like I've got some secret dream job waiting for me."
I understood that all too well. "Yeah, but doesn't it make you feel... trapped?"
"Like I'm in a cage with no door?" He raised an eyebrow, his voice laced with sarcasm. "Every day."
We fell into a comfortable silence for a moment, both of us lost in our own thoughts. It was weirdly comforting, knowing that even though we were in completely different worlds, we both felt stuck in the same way.
Finally, I took a deep breath and looked at him. "You know, we don't have to figure it all out right now. Maybe we can just... wing it, like we said yesterday."
He smirked, raising his glass. "To winging it."
I clinked my glass against his and took a long sip. Maybe we didn't have all the answers. Hell, maybe we didn't even know the right questions. But for now, just for tonight, it felt like enough to just... exist.
After a few rounds, the tension in my shoulders had loosened, and I actually felt halfway human again. We were sitting in the booth, laughing at some stupid meme Amartya was showing me on his phone when I felt my phone buzz on the table.
I glanced down at the screen and instantly felt my mood dip. An email from work, with the subject line "Urgent: Fabric Shipment Delay."
"Seriously?" I muttered, half-tempted to just throw my phone across the room.
Amartya noticed the shift in my mood. "Work again?"
"Yeah." I rubbed my temples, already feeling the headache creeping back. "It's like they're trying to test how close I can get to the edge without falling off."
He leaned back in his seat, a thoughtful look crossing his face. "You ever think about just... dropping it all for a bit? Taking a break?"
I let out a humorless laugh. "I can't exactly afford to take a break, Amartya. This isn't your dad's cushy company. I'm barely keeping this thing afloat."
"Yeah, but what's the point of killing yourself over it if it's just making you miserable?" He shrugged, taking another sip of his drink. "I mean, I'm not saying walk away forever, but maybe you need a breather. A real one."
I stared down at my drink, thinking about it. A break. The idea sounded nice, but it also felt impossible. There was too much riding on me to just... disappear for a while.
But still, a tiny part of me wondered: What if I did? What if I just stepped back, even for a little while?
I sighed, shaking my head. "I don't know, Amartya. It's complicated."
"Everything is," he said, his tone serious for once. "But you gotta look out for yourself too, Maya. Otherwise, what's the point?"
I looked at him, really looked at him, and for a moment, I saw past the jokes and the laid-back attitude. He was right. Maybe I did need to look out for myself a little more.
But for now, I wasn't sure how.