Chapter 2

My phone buzzed repeatedly in my pocket. I pulled it out.

A string of WhatsApp messages from colleagues had popped up—shallow, superficial pleasantries.

"Keep grinding, Jack! Next year will be our year."

"The bonus was a little light this time, but the company's trajectory looks amazing!"

I didn't reply to a single one. I flipped the phone face down onto the coffee table.

From the bedroom came the muffled sound of Sarah weeping. It was quiet, but in the dead of night, every sob pierced through the stillness like a needle.

I stood up, walked out to the balcony, and lit a cigarette.

The thin plume of smoke vanished quickly into the freezing winter breeze, just like the blood and sweat I'd poured out over the past three years.

That sleepless night back in June, when I single-handedly ground out three thousand lines of pristine code to secure that twelve-million-dollar contract with Titan Corp.

That critical server outage in September, when I dragged myself out of bed at three in the morning to debug system architecture alone for four straight hours.

Every single time, it was Mark taking the applause in the boardroom while I sat quietly in the back corner sipping lukewarm coffee.

Every single time, it was reduced to: "Oh, and Jack lent a hand, too."

I stubbed out the cigarette and stepped back inside.

The bedroom door remained locked. I didn't knock. Instead, I simply stretched out on the living room sofa.

I barely slept a wink, tortured by those numbers and Sarah's cutting words.

The next morning, we had our annual family gathering at my parents' house.

Sarah was up early packing her bag, refusing to utter a single word to me.

The drive out to the suburbs was suffocatingly quiet.

A dozen times I opened my mouth to break the ice, but every time I caught the frost on her profile, the words died in my throat.

By the time we pulled into my parents' driveway, it was late afternoon. Mom had whipped up an entire feast. The moment we stepped through the door, her face lit up with a warm smile.

"You're finally here! You must be exhausted. Sit down, sit down, make yourselves comfortable."

Dad emerged from the den, giving me a solid clap on the back. "Year-end bonus come through yet?"

I froze for a second, stealing a glance at Sarah.

"Yeah. It did."

"How much did you clear?" Mom hurried over from the stove, her eyes gleaming with anticipation.

My throat felt parched. "Twenty-eight thousand."

Dad's hand stopped mid-air. The wide smile on Mom's face instantly froze.

"What did you just say?" Dad frowned deeply.

"Twenty-eight thousand."

The living room fell into an awkward, dead silence, broken only by the bubbling stew in the kitchen.

Sarah dropped her purse onto the armchair and let out a cold, sharp chuckle. "His company played him for a fool."

Mom's expression shifted uncomfortably, though she forced a strained smile.

"It's fine. Next year will be better."

Dad let out a heavy sigh, said nothing, and turned toward the kitchen.

Dinner was excruciating. A sitcom played in the background. Every burst of canned laughter set my teeth on edge.

Sarah barely touched her plate, keeping her eyes glued to her phone.

I pushed my food around, tasting nothing at all, before finally setting my fork down and declaring I was full.

Mom looked at me, hesitating, before softly saying, "Eat a little more, son. Don't go hungry."

Later that evening, as we sat watching the late-night broadcasts, Dad settled onto the couch next to me and struck a match for his pipe.

"Jack, you're not a kid anymore. There are some games in life you need to learn how to play."

"What games?"

"Office politics," Dad murmured, exhaling a cloud of gray smoke. "Just burying your head in work won't get you anywhere."

"Look at guys like Mark. They know how to schmooze. You need to start taking notes."

I stared at the television screen, watching the dancers twirl across the stage, and kept quiet.

"I know it stings," Dad said, resting a heavy hand on my knee. "But that's the real world. Learn to accept your lot."

I turned my head to look at him, an urge rising in my chest to scream that I would never accept it.

In the end, I swallowed it all back down and merely gave a slow nod.