Glad to see you again...

My “Law b***h” mug radiates heat between my palms, the warmth seeping into my skin as I clutch it tightly. I let out a long sigh and inhale deeply, savoring the rich, chocolatey, caffeine-laced aroma—liquid gold that I hope will jolt me out of this fog. I need it to shake off the grogginess that’s clung to me since I opened my eyes this morning. There’s something strange about today. I can’t quite explain it, but something just feels... off. I look at the clock—it’s only 8:30 a.m. Work doesn’t officially start until 9:00 a.m., so I’m free to do whatever the hell I want for the next 30 minutes. I’m here, alone, in the common break room of my office building. Early—like a bird chirping at the break of dawn. I don’t know why I do this to myself. Last night, I went to sleep at the darkest hour of midnight after finishing the first draft of my submission for tomorrow morning’s hearing. I still woke up at 5:30 a.m. to go jogging at the park. I need to make sure every second of my day is productive—filled with activities that make me feel like I’m living to the fullest. I need to ensure that I’m physically and mentally healthy so I can stay focused at work. Especially now, with rumors of a Partner promotion lingering in the air. My eyes can barely stay open as I sit down on the chair and my elbows are pressed firmly against the cold, small steel table. I love that the office is quiet this morning, so I can have this moment to myself before I get ready to face the day. I always come to the office at 7:30 am. I am currently the junior associate at one of the finest law firms in New York, Greggs & Steele, and part of the 9-lawyer litigation team. I don’t want to brag, but I am one of the best and continue to prove that I am the best at what I do. That is why I came back home from the office at 10 pm last night, continued working on my damn submission until midnight, and then crashed and burned on my bed. Michael, my paralegal who also is one of my best friends here since I moved to New York from Boston 5 years ago. “You look like s**t,” he says, as he pours himself a mug of coffee from the espresso machine that I made earlier. “Good morning to you too,” I said, rolling my eyes at him. He chuckles, and takes the seat next to me. “I guess since Kathy left, Richard dumped all her active cases on you, huh?” Sigh, poor Kathy. She was laid off a month ago because she had an alcohol addiction, and it consumed her during one of the most important trials that we were having this year. She went off mouthing the witness on the stand, our witness because allegedly they had slept together the night before, and he left her apartment the next morning without saying goodbye. She felt betrayed and drank herself almost to oblivion 3 hours before the trial started. It was a huge catastrophe for our firm. Richard, the head of litigation department, chucked me in to the case and expected me to clean her mess up. Which I did. After her debacle, Kathy’s ass was thrown out of the firm immediately, and I had to ask for postponement of the trial date to next week so I could catch up on the case. I spent nights after my spin classes reading up on the file. “Yeah. It’s a lot to take in, but you know, I got to prove to them that I can take everything that they throw against me, so by the end of the year, I’m a partner.” Mike lets out a low whistle. “That’s... wow. You know, I’ve always admired how driven you are. You show up early, take just an hour for your spin class or gym, then come right back to keep working—all for that Partner title? That takes serious determination. Especially considering you’re only 28,” he says. “Turning 28,” I corrected him. “You know how much making partner means to me. I’ve been chasing this goal since I started here five years ago. I’ve poured in my time, sweat, and tears to get to this point,” I say—and that’s probably why I only have three close friends in this city, with Mike being one of them. Mike pulls a face—somewhere between admiration and pity—and leans against the table. I can tell he was gearing up to say something that would probably rub me the wrong way. I blew gently on my coffee and took a sip, mentally preparing myself for the verbal whiplash I knew was coming. “But…that’s the thing, right? You sacrificed a lot. A lot of your time. You’re in your twenties, Kitty, that’s when you’re supposed to live life, meet people, mingle and date around. "When was the last time you went on a date?” He asked, using my nickname. Only my closest friends and family call me ‘Kitty’, short for Katherine. I flash him a smile and a knowing look. “Almost two years ago—our last movie date.” Mike and I dated around that time, not long after he started at the firm. We hit it off quickly, but it only lasted about eight months. The s*x and chemistry were great, but the complications of working together, with me being his boss, made things messy. In the end, we mutually decided to call it off. He smiles and takes my hand. “You know I’ll always care for you, Kitty,” he says, leaning in to kiss my forehead. We both know there might still be some lingering feelings, but neither of us is interested in revisiting the past. Our careers come first, and getting involved again would only complicate things. I’m not even sure if there’s an official policy against coworkers dating, but even if there isn’t, mixing work and personal life just doesn’t work for us—especially when I find myself getting irritated over something as small as a missing comma or a misplaced semicolon in his drafts. “I just want you to remember—you’re not going to stay young forever,” he says. “You’ve got to get out there and live your life, Kitty. You don’t want to be lying on your deathbed one day thinking, ‘Man… I can’t believe I won that case!’” I make a face. “Hey, that’s such a low bar for me. What if I’m thinking, ‘Man… all those trips to London and Paris I took with the money I earned with my own two hardworking hands’?” He doesn’t laugh. Instead, he gives me a serious look. “Just think about it. Sometimes you need to step back, take a deep breath, and give yourself time—to take care of yourself. Or find someone who will.” I roll my eyes, suddenly irritated with the direction of the conversation. So what if I don’t have a man in my life right now? I’m perfectly fine going home to my two-story row house on Fifth Avenue, case files in one hand and a Starbucks coffee in the other. I’m still… content. But I know I’ll be truly happy once I make Partner. He notices I’m starting to get irritated with the topic, so he backs off. “Anyway… you might be getting that load off your back soon,” he says, nodding in the direction of Kathy’s leftover cases. I furrow my brows. “What do you mean?” He leans in slightly. “Word is… another associate’s joining the team today.” “Really? I haven’t heard anything about that,” I reply. Richard hadn’t mentioned a thing. We’re not exactly close, but he usually loops me in when someone new is coming onboard. Mike shrugs. “Apparently, this guy’s a big deal. The firm’s been after him since he graduated from Yale Law, but he went with another firm instead. Left that one about a year ago and been working as a consultant ever since. But now he’s ready to get back into practice—and once our firm caught wind, they didn’t waste time. Sent him a shiny care package screaming ‘Pick us!’” Suddenly, I can feel my heartbeat pick up. I’ve been the rising star in this department, the one with her name constantly floated for Partner. And now? A new guy with a golden resume and fast-tracked reputation? Anxiety flashes across my face—and Mike notices. He lets out a sigh. “It’s not always a competition, Kitty.” “He’s already a firm favorite, and he hasn’t even walked through the door!” I snap. “Well, you can’t blame the firm for wanting him. He was a promising recent graduate, and once he got into the game, he was winning cases left and right. He could turn a losing case into a victory! That’s real talent!” I start to panic. “But that’s me too! I win cases all over the place, and yet I don’t get a care package every time I do!” He looks at me with disbelief, “This isn’t a competition. That’s all in your head. Yes, you’re the firm’s best football player, and that will always be the case! Who knows, when this guy shows up, his star might not shine as brightly as yours. The firm recognizes how great you are as a counsel, and that’s enough. This guy isn’t even here yet, and maybe he’ll be a valuable asset to the firm if you give him a chance.” I bite the inside of my cheek, a habit I always fall into when my anxiety spikes. I’ve always been at the top of everything—the top of my high school class (though it was a rough time), the top of my graduating class at NYU, and the top of my cohorts at Harvard! Just the thought of being knocked off that pedestal gives me the chills. My dad has always been proud to have a top performer as his child. From a young age, he made sure to tutor me, pushing me to be the best in both sports and academics. He beamed with pride when I was listed on Forbes' Top Litigators Under 30. But it was a different story with my mom. While my dad was my biggest supporter, my mom often played the role of the pessimist. Just being a runner-up was enough for her to consider me a failure. I’ll never forget the time in high school, during junior year, when I tied for first place with another student, both scoring 99.9%. My mom completely shut me out because I couldn’t get that last 0.001%. The pressure was so intense that I ended up studying for my senior year on the very last day of junior year. I’ve done everything to get to where I am today. I joined the debate team, the MUN team—anything that would shape me into the best advocate for the firm. I am terrified that when this new guy shows up, I’d no longer be the firm’s star, and that the partner position would slip through my fingers. Mike can see the anxiety on my face, and he takes my hand again. “You’re getting that partnership this year, Kit. I have no doubt about it.” I smile at him, though it doesn’t quite reach my eyes, as I still can’t shake the disbelief swirling in my mind.