Seraphina's Point Of View
The room didn't empty all at once.
It unraveled.
Chairs scraped back in uneven rhythms, low voices overlapping, footsteps scattering in different directions as if everyone had suddenly remembered ten urgent tasks at once. The energy I had pulled together just minutes ago didn't disappear, the air still hummed with purpose, but the cohesion had fractured into a dozen smaller currents.
"Mark, you're handling the documentation side, right?"
"I said I am," Mark answered, frustration edging his voice, "just don't dump supplier issues on me too!"
"Vanessa, I need those logs—"
"You'll get them when I get them," she interrupted, not even looking up. "Relax, ma'am!"
I stayed where I was. Hands resting lightly on the edge of the table. Breathing. Slow. Measured. Holding myself together.
