Jeff's coffee was cold again. He sipped it anyway, staring at the spreadsheet like it owed him money. The numbers on the screen looked worse the longer he stared. Client spend was down, margins were tight, and nobody in management seemed remotely interested in fixing anything.
He closed the laptop harder than he needed to and leaned back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling tiles. Beige, industrial, lifeless. Like the rest of his day.
This wasn't how it was supposed to go. When he'd taken the job, it was pitched as a stepping stone. But that was almost five years ago. No promotions. No corner office. No "you're the future of this company" lunch. Just endless deadlines and meetings that circled the drain. And now, with layoffs rumors circulating, he was doing more for less. Again.
The one thing he could take pride in, the thing that helped him sleep at night, was that he kept it all together. The bills were paid, the fridge was stocked, the apartment was presentable. His wife, Svetlana, or Lana, as most people knew her, didn't have to worry about anything. That was his role, provider. He was the solid foundation for her and their future family. She didn't need to work, and that was supposed to be a good thing. A luxury. A sign that he was doing something right.
He unlocked his phone to check his bank app, then immediately locked it again.
---
Back home, the apartment was quiet when he walked in. A single lamp was on in the corner, casting a low glow across the minimalist furniture.
Lana stepped out of the bedroom as he was kicking off his shoes.
"Hey," she said. "I've been meaning to mention, I started browsing some job openings."
He stopped mid-motion. "Job openings?"
"Yeah. I was thinking maybe I could finally put my graphic design degree to some good use. I actually found a couple leads." She tried to sound casual, but she was watching him closely.
He stood up straight. "Since when?"
"A few weeks I guess. I've been poking around online."
"And now you're applying?"
She nodded. "I'm tired of sitting around, Jeff. I want to work again. I miss doing something creative. And let's be honest, we could use the extra income."
Jeff walked past her into the kitchen and opened the fridge. He grabbed a beer, then leaned against the counter.
"I thought we agreed you didn't need to worry about that."
"I never said I didn't
want
to work. That was you."
"We are doing fine," he said curtly.
"We're not drowning, but we're not exactly thriving either," she said. "And I'm not built to sit around all day waiting for you to come home with bad news from work."
He didn't answer. The beer bottle was sweating in his hand. He took a long sip and stared at the countertop like it would help.
"It's not that I think you aren't providing enough," she said. "It's just me, I feel like I'm going to rot here."
Jeff's voice was quiet, even, but tight. "So what kind of job are we talking about?"
"There's one I'm interested in at a company called Siren's Call."
He frowned. "What's that?"
"They make adult toys. The role is mostly product packaging, branding, that kind of thing."
He set the bottle down hard enough that it made a loud thud.
"You're serious?"
"Completely."
"You go from zero to sex toys?"
"It's a legit company. They've got a solid market. They need a designer, and I can do the job."
"You didn't think that might be something you'd want to run by me?"
"I'm telling you now."
"Yeah. After you've already decided."
"Because I knew you'd react like this."
Jeff turned and walked back into the living room, rubbing his jaw. He sat on the edge of the couch, hands braced on his knees.
"It's not like I'm trying to control you," he said. "It's just... do you see how this looks?"
"To who? Your coworkers? Your buddies from college?"
"No. To me." He looked up at her. "I'm the one out there grinding every day. I carry the weight. And now you're gonna show up with a job designing dildo boxes like it's some cute little art project?"
She narrowed her eyes. "It's real work, Jeff. And it pays well. We could use the money."
He didn't say anything.
Lana sighed. "I already submitted my application. You can either deal with it or not. But I'm not asking for permission from the man of the house like some Stepford wife."
She turned and walked toward the bedroom in a huff.
"You're not the only one in this marriage with ambition," she said as she slammed the door.
Jeff sat there in silence, the hum of the fridge was the only sound in the apartment. His beer sat untouched on the coffee table in front of him, beads of condensation sliding slowly down the glass.
---
Lana got the job.
She burst in bubbling with excitement, trying unsuccessfully not to let it show. With her lanyard in hand and a knowing smile on her face, she held it up by the strap and let it dangle.
"They really liked me," she said.
Jeff looked up from his laptop. She was already wearing a company hoodie, soft and black with the Siren's Call logo embroidered over the chest in small silver thread. The badge swung in a slow circle between them.
"You took it," he said.
"I accepted the offer, signed the papers, and start Monday," she said, giddy.
He didn't respond right away. He didn't trust his tone.
Lana dropped her keys on the table by the door and kicked off her shoes.
"You're not gonna say anything?"
