Grant glanced at the floor, his brows tightening, then smoothing out.
“It’s just a photo frame,” he said dismissively. “So it broke, what’s the big deal? Is it really worth getting so upset over?"
He then shot me a look, his voice rising. "I think you’ve lost your mind, all this over a bonus.”
Regina, standing off to the side, let out a perfectly timed sniffle, looking even more fragile and helpless.
“Mr. Jefferson, please don’t blame Avery. Maybe it’s really my fault. I must’ve done something to upset her…” she murmured, eyes glistening.
Grant looked at her, his anger spiking.
“Avery, I gave you a chance. You didn’t appreciate it. Now, pack up your things. Get out of the company immediately,” he ordered, voice like ice.
Quietly, I picked up the photo and placed the last of my personal belongings into my bag.
The silence and calmness in my actions caught both Grant and Regina off guard. They probably expected me to explode, to argue, to lose my composure.
But I didn’t. Instead, I zipped up my bag and walked straight toward the door.
As I passed Grant, I stopped.
Turning slightly, I met his eye, my voice steady and flat. “Mr. Jefferson, remember what you said today. I hope you won’t regret it. And I hope Regina… truly is as ‘competent’ as she’s trying to appear.”
Grant’s brow furrowed, as if he wanted to say something. But I didn’t give him the chance. I stepped forward, leaving without looking back.
There was nothing left for me to stay here for.
...
Back at home, my mom, just out of the hospital, was resting on the sofa.
When she saw me get home much earlier than usual and noticed the change in my demeanor, she looked at me with concern.
“What’s wrong? Did something happen?”
I didn’t hide anything. I told her everything about resigning and losing the bonus.
My mom didn’t blame me at all. She simply took my hand and gently patted it.
“You did right,” she said softly. “That kind of company isn’t worth my precious daughter’s sacrifice. Your health comes first, and peace of mind is even more important. I still have some savings. Don’t rush to find a new job. Take some time to rest.”
Her words washed through me like a warm current, easing something tight in my chest.
...
In the days that followed, it felt as though my life was moving at a snail's pace.
In the mornings, I went with my mom to the market, listening to her haggle with effortless skill as we picked the freshest vegetables.
In the afternoons, we'd head to the park, and I'd awkwardly join the older folks practicing yoga, fumbling through the movements.
Afterward, we'd sit on the balcony, sipping herbal tea, watching the leaves drift by, and chatting about family stuff. Time passed by slowly, quietly, and peacefully.
That long-forgotten, steady rhythm started to heal the numb heart I’d crushed in the corporate world.
In that rare quiet, the past few years played back in my mind like faded film reels, each frame sharp again.
I remembered the company’s hardest early days. To break through the technical barriers of our first game, I led a handful of core game developers and spent three straight months in the office, eating and sleeping there.
When we were wiped out at night, we’d spread cardboard under our desks and grab a nap.
In the end, we didn’t just solve the problems; we crafted an optimization plan that exceeded expectations, helped the company achieve its first real profit, and built our reputation in the industry.
I also recall an incident where a competitor maliciously attacked our servers, nearly bringing our services to a standstill.
Clients were furious. The system was hanging by a thread.
I stayed awake for forty-eight hours straight, leading the team to trace the attack. Not only did we successfully fend off the assault, but we also identified a loophole on their side, saving the company from huge losses and delivering a decisive counterpunch.
That battle catapulted our reputation in the industry.
And then there was the game that won the international award.
