Two days later, the quarterly review meeting loomed large on the horizon, casting shadows over everything. He spent the weekend holed up in his study, papers and notes scattered around him like fallen leaves.
I tried to breach the wall he had built, bringing him coffee, sitting quietly beside him, but his mind was somewhere else, locked in a battle I couldn’t see.
“Are you ready for the meeting?” I asked on Sunday night, hoping to draw him out.
“I think so,” he replied, the uncertainty in his voice belying his words.
“You’ll be okay,” I said, reaching out to touch his hand, grounding us both in the moment.
He nodded, a tight smile on his lips, but his eyes were miles away, lost in the what-ifs and maybes of the week ahead.
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