The next morning, Maya walked into The Pulse with her resignation letter burning a hole in her purse.
She thought she'd feel nervous. She didn't.
Mr. Langley barely looked up when she entered his glass-walled office. His desk was cluttered with papers, and his tie was slightly loosened—classic always-busy-but-never-really-listening Langley.
"What's up, Alvarez?" he asked, still typing.
Maya took a deep breath and slid the envelope onto his desk. "I'm resigning."
That got his attention. He stopped typing and leaned back, eyes narrowing. "Is this a joke?"
She shook her head.
Langley scoffed. "You're making a mistake."
Maya met his gaze, steady. "Maybe. But it's my mistake to make."
He sighed, rubbing his temples. "You have talent, Maya. But if you walk away now, don't expect to come back."
She expected that. And yet, she didn't hesitate.
"I appreciate everything I've learned here," she said, standing. "But I'm ready for something of my own."
She turned before he could respond, walking out of his office—and her old life—without looking back.
As she stepped onto the city streets, the air smelled like fresh rain and new beginnings.
For the first time in a long time, Maya felt free.