The next few days felt different in a way Ronda could not immediately explain.
Not easier.
The firm was still the firm.
Unit Four still carried its dry, efficient rhythm.
Management had not suddenly developed a conscience.
The transfer had not reversed itself out of shame.
No.
The difference was inside her.
Once she had updated her CV, once she had written those steps in her notebook and admitted to herself that she was no longer staying here blindly, something subtle had shifted.
The firm had stopped feeling like fate.
That mattered more than she expected.
It meant the corridors no longer held the same total power over her breathing. It meant every instruction, every careful smile, every polished administrative phrase no longer landed as if it came from some final authority ove
