“Fine,” I said, nodding once. “Let’s start simple.”
I lifted the folder in my hand and placed it gently on the reception desk.
“I came here to submit your sick leave.”
A few people nearby exchanged glances.
“Turns out,” I continued, “you’re not sick. Just busy living another life.”
Steven ran a hand through his hair, something he only did when he was overwhelmed.
“I was going to tell you,” he said.
I smiled.
“No, you weren’t.”
Genevieve stepped forward again, her tone sharpening.
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