The decision followed me through most of the next day before I finally stopped pretending it was still a decision. By lunchtime, I knew I was going back. Not because I had forgiven Timothy. Not because I suddenly believed Gabriel Callahan's job offer had been some wonderful act of generosity. And certainly not because I missed our morning conversations. I was going back because I was tired. For two days I had slept badly, spent my mornings drinking coffee that tasted like burned disappointment, and dragged myself through work with the kind of exhaustion that made every minor inconvenience feel like a personal attack. The entire experiment had accomplished nothing except proving that stubbornness was not a substitute for sleep. If anything, leaving Callahan Industries had made matters worse
