Page 74 of The Defender

A metallic taste filled my mouth. “No, thanks.”

“Well, if you change your mind, give me a call.” He finished his chocolate and shoved the empty wrapper in his pocket. “Hey, I heard you’re also applying for the ISNA award. What’d you write about for your personal statement?”

I barely heard him over the sudden roar of blood in my ears.

Thud. Thud. Thud.My heart pounded hard enough to rattle my ribcage.

Every time I blinked, the walls crept closer, threatening to squeeze the air from my lungs.

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to steal your topic.” Henry’s voice sounded far away. “I submitted my application weeks ago. I can show you, if you’d like. I—hey! Where are you going?”

He let out a squawk of indignation when I pushed past him and speed-walked toward the restroom. Pressure clawed at my throat.

I couldn’t breathe. I had to—I needed?—

I burst into the restroom and rushed into the corner stall, locking it with a deafening click.

Then, and only then, did I allow myself to cry.

I sank onto the closed toilet lid as my emotions burst free. Grief, anger, self-doubt, resentment, and a thousand more I couldn’t name—they surged past the dam I’d spent years painstakingly building, their currents so strong I had no hope of escaping.

So I didn’t even try.

My sobs bounced off the tiled walls. Tears dripped down my cheeks, mixing with my snot. I probably looked disgusting, butI didn’t care. No one could see me—so few women worked here, the ladies’ restroom was almost always empty.

I buried my face in my hands, trying to ground myself in something,anything, but I was unraveling at the seams. The stitches that held my life together came apart, one by one, until I was nothing but frayed edges and open wounds.

There was no one around to put me back together, and that just made everything hurt a little more.

My dad, who was clueless about what I really needed.

My mom, who was too busy with her new family to give a shit.

My coworkers, whose doubts fueled my own.

Vincent, who was forbidden in so many ways.

And most of all, myself, because I’d failed to live up to the person I thought I would be.

Younger me thought I’d have it all by now—a thriving career, a loving partner, some semblance of peace when it came to my family. Yet here I was, a full-grown adult, and I was as lost as ever. Besides my friends, every aspect of my life was a mess. I didn’t know how to clean it up because I didn’t know how I got here in the first place.

It was the first time I’d admitted it to myself. I’d been repressing my fears and emotions for so long that releasing them was cathartic. By the time my sobs slowed to hiccups, I felt a little better despite the shittiness of my situation.

I sat there, letting myself wallow for another minute before I wiped my face with the back of my hand and exited the stall.

I sent a quick thank-you to the universe for not bringing anyone in during my meltdown. This was not how I wanted to be remembered at the end of my internship.

I winced when I saw my reflection. Frazzled hair, puffy eyes, red nose. Ugh.

I didn’t have my makeup bag with me, but I fixed myself up the best I could. Once I looked somewhat presentable again, I pushed open the door and headed back to the intern office.

It was already after work hours, but I needed to finish the travel packets for the team’s upcoming winter break. The meal plans were easy. However, I’d convinced Jones to let me add extra info like how to eat healthy while traveling and how to balance indulgence and nourishment during the holidays. I’d rounded it out with a few of my favorite healthy holiday recipes. He thought they were a waste of time, but I guess he didn’t want to argue when I was leaving soon anyway.

“Bye, Brooklyn.” Seth, the team’s new kit man, waved at me in passing. He gave me a shy smile, which I returned.

We didn’t interact often, but I liked him. He was a sweet kid, and kit managers were the unsung heroes of football clubs. Managing all the players’ equipment and apparel wasn’t as easy as it sounded.

Thankfully, Seth didn’t comment on my disheveled appearance. I was hopeful I could finish my work and go home with no one else being the wiser about my breakdown until I passed by the changing room.