The café was curated minimalism, glass walls, quiet steel, plants that probably had trust funds. It smelled like overpriced caffeine and ambition. People in tailored suits treated power like perfume. Perfect backdrop for an existential crisis disguised as a coffee meeting.
Mariella was already seated, scrolling through emails with the emotional detachment of someone who considered chaos a coworker. Her posture was flawless, spine straight, expression unreadable. Her phone reflected a battlefield of deadlines and legal threats. Her fingers moved fast, precise. Efficient. Ruthless.
Sari rushed in, breath uneven, energy frayed at the edges.
“You’re late,” Mariella said without lifting her gaze.
“Traffic.”
A single brow rose, elegant, unimpressed.
“In Taguig? Try again.”
Sari caved with
