I'm not budging, not this time

To hell with Carter and this job, if necessary, but I'm not doing this.

I type.

“I’m still not 100%, and I’ve been told to rest in the evenings. I appreciate the opportunity, but I can’t make it tonight. Sorry.”

It hangs there. I hit send before I can talk myself out of it. The reply is fast.

“That’s not acceptable, Thalia. You were given an exception on your schedule. Don’t make me regret it.”

I close my eyes. Inhale through my nose. Then I type, slowly:

“Then regret it. I’m not putting my well-being at risk for finger food and fake smiles.”

No response. I watch the little "Seen" checkmarks go blue. And then—

“Understood.”

That’s it. Cold. Final.

The anxiety hits first—tight in my chest, like I just stepped off a ledge. The panic of having maybe, probably, just destroyed a job I was beginning to like and the endangered the paycheck I desperately needed.

But then… something unexpected.

Relief.

I lean back and breathe. And for the first time in days, it actually helps.

Maybe I just tanked my job. Maybe Carter’s already drafting an email to HR about how ‘unreliable’ I am. But fuck it. I chose me. And I didn’t cave.

The sky goes orange. Then purple.

And still… nothing.

That hum in the back of my chest — the pull I’ve been feeling every night since she bit me — it’s still there. Like a ghost behind the curtains. But tonight it’s quieter.

Like it knows it lost.

{if Darkness < 49}

It’s still there. That shiver of memory. The way her mouth felt on my throat. The fear. But I’m stronger tonight, more than yesterday. That’s something.

{else}

The ache is there. Not gone, not even softened. But I don’t feed it, I don’t answer it this time.

{endif}

I brush my teeth and strip down. Slide into bed with the fan humming overhead and the window cracked open. The night air is thick and warm.

No dreams come this night.

For the first time since the alley, since the bite, since her—

I sleep.