Life was running on autopilot. Days slipped through my fingers, each one like the last—packed with schedules, tasks, and a never-ending race against time. In a world where everyone’s always in motion, there’s no pause, no waiting. We wake up with our phones and fall asleep with them. It's like we've forgotten to care about what's real—about friends, about family. But then again, who has the time? Or maybe we’ve just stopped trying to make time.

This morning was no different. Except, as usual, I was late. Again. “In-time matters more than out-time,” they always said. And it was true—no one cares what time you leave as long as you punch in on time. But today, my clock was ticking against me. I rushed through the front doors, barely catching my breath, hoping no one would notice. But then I saw him—a tall figure cutting through the office space like he owned the place.

Stop right there. Before you start picturing a knight in shining armor, let me burst that bubble. This was my manager. Sure, he’s tall, maybe even a bit good-looking in that "stern boss" way, but that’s where the charm ends. His specialty? Offloading tasks onto his team while he happily smokes, watching other company employees with a cigarette in hand. He’s always planning—more for us than himself.

He was heading straight for me, a frown etched on his face. My mind raced. What had I left pending? There was definitely something, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. As he glanced around the room, I quickly dove into my chair, pretending to be engrossed in my screen, frantically scrolling my mouse up and down, hoping to look busy.

Then came the voice. That unmistakable, impatient voice, cutting through the office hum.

“Hurry up, Anna! How long are you going to take to settle into your place? Just like every day, you're late. When will you ever be on time? Where’s the project email? Have you sent it?”

My heart sank as realization hit me—I had completely forgotten about that email. I took a deep breath, forcing a smile, and turned to face him. “Good morning, Naiden… Had breakfast?” I tried, hoping to soften the blow.

But his face remained hard, his eyes narrowing with irritation. “First, send that email,” he snapped, his voice dripping with frustration. “Then you can smile all you want.”

Desperation kicked in. I started working on it immediately, but before I could make any...