Maya's POV
The steady hum of the alarm clock dragged me from the depths of my sleep, a harsh reminder that morning had arrived. I groaned, my hand reaching out from under the warmth of the blankets, and slapped the snooze button with a practiced motion. A few extra minutes of sleep would make all the difference, I thought, but deep down, I knew I had no choice but to get up.
I blinked at the morning light seeping through the curtains, casting soft shadows on the cream-colored walls of my bedroom. The apartment was quiet, serene. A space I had meticulously curated—a reflection of my success, my taste. It was everything I had worked for. The open-plan living area boasted
floor-to-ceiling windows that framed a stunning view of the Toronto skyline. The sleek furniture, neutral tones, and artistic touches made it feel like a retreat from the world.
I stood up, stretching my arms overhead, trying to shake off the last remnants of sleep. My body ached, but it was the good kind of ache—the kind you get when you've worked hard for something. And that's exactly what I had done. My event planning business had taken years to build, from humble beginnings to a thriving enterprise that now catered to high-profile clients and major events.
Life was good.
As I stepped into the bathroom, I ran my hands under the cool water, splashing my
face awake. The coolness made my skin tingle, sharpening my senses. I brushed my teeth quickly, before moving on to my makeup. My routine was quick and efficient, the way it had to be when you didn't have time to waste. I was always moving, always pushing myself to be better. I had to be perfect.
The events I planned weren't just about parties or social gatherings—they were about creating experiences, crafting memories that would last forever. And that's what I did. Every detail mattered: the venue, the food, the decorations, the lighting, the flow of the evening. It had to be flawless. After all, it wasn't just about creating an event; it was about creating an image, a brand. And my brand was everything.
As I finished applying a final coat of mascara, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My long, dark hair cascaded over my shoulders in soft waves. I looked composed, confident, ready to face the world. That's the image I had perfected over the years—Maya Rain, the successful businesswoman with it all figured out. I had the life most people dreamed of. A booming career. A loving boyfriend. A close-knit group of friends. And, of course, my loyal business partner, Rachel.
It wasn't all just a façade. I had built this life with blood, sweat, and tears. It wasn't always easy, but I had earned every bit of it. Nothing had been handed to me.
I walked out of the bathroom and into the kitchen, grabbing a cup of coffee before heading out the door. My heels clicked on the polished hardwood floor as I made my way to the elevator. I checked my phone for messages as I stepped out into the cool Toronto morning.
Rachel had already sent me a text.
"Hey, just wanted to confirm we're still on for the 10 am meeting to go over the proposal for the Smith account. We're almost there."
I smiled at the message. Rachel. My right hand. The person who had been by my side through thick and thin. I had always trusted her, not just as a business partner, but as my best friend. We had started this business together, scraping together every penny we had to rent a tiny office and take on our first event. Those were the days when we stayed up late into the night, dreaming of the future. And now, here we were, on the verge of planning one of the biggest charity galas the city had ever seen.
I knew it wouldn't be easy. It never was. But I was prepared. I was always prepared.
As I walked through the doors of the office, the usual buzz of activity greeted me. Staff members were moving quickly, phones ringing, people talking. But amidst the noise, I felt a calmness. This was my domain. My empire. The hustle and bustle were just part of the rhythm of the day. I had a team that was as dedicated as I was, and together, we made things happen.
I rounded the corner and entered the conference room, where Rachel was already sitting, papers spread out in front of her. Her face lit up when she saw me.
"Hey, girl," she greeted me with a smile, her voice warm. "You look amazing today."
I returned the smile, though I could sense the slight edge in her voice. "Thanks, you too. Ready to tackle this proposal?"
Rachel nodded, but her smile didn't quite reach her eyes. Something was off. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but I knew her well enough to sense when something was wrong. Still, I pushed the thought aside. We had work to do.
We spent the next few minutes going over the details of the Smith account proposal. Rachel was meticulous as always, pointing out each minor detail that needed adjustment. I admired her precision. We complemented each other in a way that made us unstoppable. She was the organized, analytical one, while I thrived in the creative, high-pressure aspects of event planning. Together, we had built a reputation for producing some of the most exclusive, high-profile events in the city.
But beneath the surface, I could feel the tension building. There was an undercurrent of discomfort that I couldn't ignore. Rachel had always been a little more intense, a little more focused than me, but today it felt different. Like she was holding something back.
"So," Rachel began, looking up from the proposal, "I was thinking about the flowers. Maybe we should change the vendor. I don't know... something's just not sitting right with me about their designs."
I blinked, taken aback. "Rachel, we've already confirmed everything with them. They're top-tier, and we've worked with them before. Are you sure about this? Is there something else going on?"
She hesitated for a moment, tapping her pen on the table. "I just want everything to be perfect, Maya. I'm just trying to help us make sure the gala is flawless."
The words sounded rehearsed.
I studied her face for a moment longer, trying to read her. Rachel was my best friend. My business partner. She had always had my back. But today, something about the way she spoke seemed... off. Like she was deflecting, avoiding something.
"I'm sure everything will be fine, Rachel. Let's not overthink it, okay?" I replied, trying to brush it off. I didn't want to confront whatever was bothering her. Not right now.
Before she could respond, my phone buzzed with a message from Emily, our assistant.
"Maya, just confirming that the Smith proposal is on track for the meeting today? Also, the catering vendor just called—everything's confirmed for the gala."
I nodded, glancing at Rachel. "Looks like we're all set. Let's move on."
But Rachel's eyes lingered on me, her expression unreadable. I couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.
The meeting continued, but my thoughts kept drifting back to the unease in the room. Rachel's perfectionism had always been one of her strengths, but now it felt like a wall. Something was blocking her, and I wasn't sure how to break through.
Rachel's POV
I watched Maya as she shifted her attention to her phone, her face softening in concentration. She didn't seem to notice the subtle shift in the air between us. It wasn't just about the flowers anymore. It was about everything.
Maya had always been the face of our business—the one who carried the weight of it all, who made it look effortless. She was brilliant, creative, driven. But lately, I had started to notice cracks in that perfect exterior. I could see it in the way she would work herself to exhaustion, always pushing harder, always aiming higher. I had watched her burn herself out for years, and yet she never seemed to slow down.
But today, something felt different.
I hadn't wanted to say anything, hadn't wanted to bring it up, but I was worried. Maya was always so controlled, so together, that I was afraid to say the wrong thing. I didn't want to add to her stress. But I couldn't help it. I was starting to feel like we were both drowning—her in the expectations she had set for herself, and me in the shadows of her success.
I couldn't help but feel like I was losing her. She had always been my anchor, my closest friend, but there was a distance between us now that I couldn't explain.
When I suggested changing the flower vendor, I knew it wasn't just about the flowers. It was about trying to regain control over something—anything. It was about me trying to find a way back to her. But I wasn't sure if she was even noticing.
Maya had been my partner in everything—business, friendship, life. But today, I felt like she was slipping away from me, and I didn't know how to