The pointer hovered over the refresh button of Hye-jin's browser, her own heart hanging in suspension. Today was the day, where they would announce who's pitch got approved. The company had been strapped for a new game and Hye-jin saw her chance. She had a ton of ideas for the game she wanted to develop and has put everything she could into her pitch. Hers was the most detailed out of all the pitches she had managed to get her hands on. There's no way they wouldn't choose her.

Hence, the anticipation and the feeling like it might slurp her guts without leaving anything in return.

The phone rang and an incoming call notification popped into her screen. Keeping her groan to herself, she rolled her eyes and removed her pointer from the browser and told it to do her job. Her real job. As much as she liked to delude herself into thinking she's part of the actual writing and development team, this was her fate—doomed to answer customer calls for the rest of her life.

"Good day, valued customer. Thank you for calling us today. What can I help you with?" she said into the microphone jutting from her headset. She closed her eyes as the caller geared to spill all of their problems in life. Please, not another technically-challenged individual again.

Soon, she was guiding the caller into setting up a console. She could do it in her sleep and as she talked the person over how to turn it on, she wondered if her job could have finished quicker if she trekked to their house and did it herself. This was why she hated this job. Most of the people's problems weren't really problems at all.

Hye-jin's sigh could have dropped into a boat's hull and would have managed to sink it. She rested her head against the backrest of her chair, hands massaging her temples. Wearing these headsets for the whole day had started giving her migraines. All around her, people wearing the same uniforms hunkered into their desktops, fingers clacking away at keyboards and mouths running smoothly along practiced lines and modulated customer service tone. Multiply that into a thousand, overlapping tunes, and that's about how Hye-jin's day was going.

She needed a break.

A distinct ding! caught her attention. An e-mail notification waved at her from the corner of her screen. Her gut twisted in anticipation, her mind already going into places where she hadn't dared to as she was writing her pitch. She'd finally join the writing team, maybe even apply her computer science degree and get her hands on some delicious game codes. Then, maybe she'd finally be fulfilled with her career.

Good day, JOON HYE-JIN. This is to inform you that your proposal is rejected.

Hye-jin blinked. Then blinked again. Her proposal was what?

Rejected.

She scrolled to the bottom of the email. You are welcome to submit to us should another call for submissions be opened in the latter quarter of the year. Thank you for choosing Calnix Studios.

She dragged her eyes at the single word defining all her hard work. Rejected. Rejected. Rejected.

Well, at least she got a reply this time. All the one-hundred and thirty two proposals she sent out remained unanswered since the time they made it into the company's email. Groaning, she pushed her chair away from her desk, the wheels doing all of the work. She stood up and headed to the pantry. Along the way, she passed the wide glass windows showing the ongoing concept meeting with the company's higher-ups with the cohort of writers and developers. This new game was everything they're going on for the last few months.

She rounded a corner and came to an open bar room where at least a dozen coffee machines sat on the counters. Following her routine for the last two years of her life, she grabbed a paper cup, one pack of bland instant coffee, and snatched the heated water pitcher from the machines. She didn't have the luxury of brewing coffee considering she had to be back on her chair in case someone called about their device not connected to the internet again because it was absolutely Hye-jin's job to care about it.

As soon as she swirled the water enough to dissolve the powder, she dashed out of the pantry, carrying her steaming drink with her. She passed by the meeting room once more and did a double take. On the projection screen, a proposal presentation was flashed, bearing the words Cyberskull '98: The Siege of Darknaham.

Oh, was that the lucky proposal? That piece of garbage?

Without even realizing it, Hye-jin had forgotten her trip back to her desk and the intrusive thought of missing any work calls. Instead, she pressed herself against the glass. If only her glare and her hate could laser a hole into the window. That way, she could demand better treatment and judgment from the higher-ups. This was just unfair!

A man in a rigid suit waved his hand towards a woman with a face slapped with blush on and fake eyelashes so long she looked like she could weight-lift with her eyelids. She stood up, her heels clacking against the brittle tiles of the boardroom, the sounds carrying all the way to where Hye-jin was. Her skirt rode up to her thick but toned thighs as she came next to the man in the suit. Polite applause muffled by the glass windows resounded from inside the room.

Hye-jin's insides boiled. This was the proposal that got accepted? She skimmed through it. The world building was whack, the premise was just ripped off from the summer blockbuster from their rival company, and the stats system wasn't as refined as hers.

Unbelievable.

Fuming, she stalked towards her desk and flopped on her chair. She'd seen the way several of the men inside that room looked at the woman from top to bottom. It's...pathetic and, frankly, disgusting. If that was the only way a woman could get what she wanted, then count Hye-jin out of it. This wouldn't fly. Perhaps, it's better to remain as she was.

But...having her proposal rejected and ignored sure sucked.

Another call notification popped into her screen. She sighed and accepted it. Her coffee sat on her desk, forgotten until the slivers of smoke rising from its surface was replaced by the cold. She couldn't wait to go home.

And when she did, the house was dark. Nobody had bothered to turn on the lights. She inhaled and blew a breath through her mouth. She let the door click shut behind her, the silly tune telling her it's locked ringing at the back of her head. The ante bled before her, feeding off into the dim rooms of their apartment. She shook her shoes off her feet and stepped inside.

The curtains were drawn, and a solid silhouette occupied the couch. One glance at the watch on her wrist told her it's well past nine. She had stayed too long at work again, pulling all the overtime hours available to her. It's the only way they'd be able to keep their finances afloat and havea roof above their heads.

She came to the kitchen and set her work bag on the counter. The dining table was void of any food, not even the reheated leftovers from last night. Her stomach growled. She whirled to the living room's direction and saw not just one, but two people on the couch.

Ichika-san sat on the end nearest the kitchen and Rin took the other. His head was slumped against the armrest in such a position to warrant him a stiff neck if he stayed there longer. He's still in his work attire, though he had shed the gray jaacket and laid it crumpled over the back. His tie and collar were in tatters, as if he loosened them in a hurry. And he's fast asleep.

His mother was awake, but didn't bother looking at Hye-jin as she approached. As much as it annoyed her to come home to a house with no warm dinner waiting for her, she couldn't blame Rin. She couldn't blame his mother, either. They were trying. All of them were.

So, she gave Ichika-san a quick squeeze on the shoulder and retreated to the kitchen, makign way towards the fridge. The amber light blasted her eyeballs when she yanked the door open. A blast of cold breeze smacked her in the face as she studied the contents. Apart from a half-consumed carton of milk that's about to go bad, a few wilting greens in the crisper, and a container filled with a mystery dish, there's nothing there. Not even a sweet treat for her to devour in secret at midnight.

It'd been so long since their fridge didn't look like a wasteland.

She sighed. Had been doing so for the last few weeks. She shut the fridge and plucked her phone from her pocket. It's takeout day. Again.

When her order was confirmed, she made her way to the living room to wait. She might have to sit on the rug as she didn't want to wake Rin or tell Ichika-san to scoot over. A sharp wail tore through the entire apartment. Rin flinched and snapped upright, his hair in disarray. In another world, Hye-jin would have laughed and teased him incessantly about it, but not now.

He rubbed his eyes, looking around like he often did when he came off a shallow sleep. His eyes landed on her on her way to check the source of the sound. "Oh, Hye-jin," he muttered under his breath before tousling his hair behind his head. "What time is it?"

Not a "you're back?". Not even a "how are you?" or "how's your day?". How far had they drifted away from each other in the mere months they've been stuck in this cage? She swallowed against the blockage in her throat and checked her phone. "It's 9:30," she replied. The wails had gotten louder. Rin ran a hand down the back of his neck and staggered towards the room where it's coming from. "Have you eaten?"

Instead of answering, Rin dragged himself past her. "I got it, Kaasan," he said, stopping Ichika-san halfway from rising from the couch. "Just...focus on getting better."

Hye-jin followed Rin. "What do you need help with?" she asked. "What time did you get home?"

The door to the nursery swung open and the cries washed over them in unhampered waves. Rin hurried to the table of supplies and started whipping up his brother's evening meal. A dark cloud passed across his face. He had shut down once again. He's bound to do that when he feels overwhelmed about something. Be it his work, his family, or anything under the sun.

Hye-jin felt her fists clenching at her sides. How would she know, if he doesn't fucking tell her anything? He had changed. In the few years she had known him, somehow, Nagara Rin managed to become someone Hye-jin didn't know how to deal with anymore.

Well, whatever. It's not like she could control Rin. He would still do what he wanted to do, with or without Hye-jin's opinion.

Her phone dinged and lit up. Dinner was here. She cast one last look at Rin who was now rocking an infant and feeding him. He could handle it. Maybe. Hye-jin needed not butt into his business.

She tramped to the door and received the package, thanking the guy who brought it. Something simmered beneath her skin. She didn't have a name for it. Fine, then. It's every person to themselves. They've got both lives to live, and Hye-jin would be better off living hers.

At least, that's what she should keep telling herself until she didn't feel bad about it anymore.