Chapter31
The office lights were harsh and sterile, humming faintly overhead. Sydney barely noticed. She hadn't noticed much of anything lately—except for how much she was working, how late she stayed, and how it never seemed to be enough to silence her mind. The desk was piled high with files she didn't remember accepting, reports she'd volunteered to finish, tasks no one asked her to take but she had, anyway. Her fingers flew across the keyboard, typing faster than her thoughts, her eyes scanning through data that blurred into meaninglessness. The rhythm of it kept her grounded—just enough. Work had become her sanctuary. Or her prison. She wasn't sure which. At least here, no one looked at her with pity. No one asked if she was okay. She didn't have to walk past her mother in the kitchen with
- Writer
