Chương 4
Alexandra almost smiled.
“I understand why it feels strange to you.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“Then what do you mean?”
Marcus rubbed his forehead.
The movement made him look older.
For a brief second, Alexandra saw the person behind the arrogance.
A man who had built his identity around being the one who knew what was happening.
The one who gave advice.
The one who had answers.
And suddenly he was sitting across from someone whose entire life had existed outside his understanding.
“I thought you were struggling,” he said.
“I was.”
“But not like that.”
Alexandra looked down.
The sentence stayed between them.
Not like that.
She understood what he meant.
He thought struggle had one appearance.
Bills.
Rejection.
Failure.
A person asking for help.
He did not understand that sometimes struggle looked like success from the outside.
Sometimes it looked like working eighteen-hour days in a nice office while wondering if everything you built would disappear next month.
Sometimes it looked like smiling at meetings after investors questioned whether you were experienced enough.
Sometimes it looked like telling your family you were fine because explaining the truth required more energy than you had left.
“I lost two employees in the same month,” Alexandra said.
Marcus looked up.
“What?”
“Two people I hired quit because they didn’t believe we would survive.”
She looked toward the kitchen.
“I spent three nights trying to figure out payroll.”
Her voice remained steady.
Not because it did not hurt.
Because she had repeated the story to herself enough times that the sharp edges had worn down.
“I remember sitting on my apartment floor with my laptop open, trying to decide who I could let go.”
Nobody spoke.
“Those were people who trusted me.”
Marcus shifted.
“That sounds…”
“Scary?”
He nodded.
“Yes.”
“It was.”
Alexandra looked at her hands.
“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want everyone watching me struggle.”
Her mother returned from the kitchen carrying coffee.
She stopped when she heard the last sentence.
Alexandra continued before she could interrupt.
“Everyone has opinions about failure.”
She glanced at Marcus.
“You were already telling me what I should do when you thought I was failing.”
Marcus looked away.
“And I knew if I told you how bad it actually was, everyone would either tell me to quit or feel sorry for me.”
Her mother placed the coffee pot down carefully.
“I would never feel sorry for you.”
Alexandra gave a small, sad smile.
“You would try not to.”
Her mother did not answer.
Because she knew.
That was the difficult thing about families.
Sometimes the people who loved you could still make you feel smaller.
Not because they wanted to hurt you.
Because they were trying to protect you from a version of life they were afraid of.
Jennifer returned from the kitchen a few minutes later with a plate of pie.
The normal act seemed almost strange after everything that had happened.
A dessert plate.
A fork.
A family pretending they knew how to continue.
She sat beside Marcus.
“I searched your company.”
Alexandra raised an eyebrow.
“You searched it?”
Jennifer looked slightly embarrassed.
“I was curious.”
“That was fast.”
Jennifer gave a small shrug.
“I’m good at finding information.”
Marcus glanced at her.
She ignored him.
“I saw the articles.”
Alexandra waited.
Jennifer looked down at the pie.
“They called you one of the youngest founders to negotiate an agreement that size.”
Alexandra nodded.
“Some articles did.”
“And you hate that.”
Alexandra looked surprised.
Jennifer noticed.
“You have that expression.”
“What expression?”
“The one people have when they’re being complimented for something they don’t think matters.”
Alexandra stared at her.
That was the first accurate observation Jennifer had made about her in years.
“I don’t hate it.”
“But?”
Alexandra smiled faintly.
“But I know how quickly people change their minds.”
Jennifer nodded.
That answer seemed to make sense to her.
Maybe because she understood something about appearances.
Jennifer had built her own life around them.
Perfect clothes.
Perfect apartment.
Perfect social media posts.
Perfect dinner conversations.
Alexandra had always thought Jennifer did it because she cared too much about what people thought.
Now she wondered if Jennifer cared because she was afraid of what happened when people stopped approving.
“I think I owe you an apology too,” Jennifer said.
Marcus looked at her.
“Really?”
She turned toward him.
“Yes, really.”
The sharpness in her voice surprised everyone.
“You weren’t the only one making comments.”
Marcus looked uncomfortable.
Jennifer continued.
“I laughed.”
She looked at Alexandra.
“When you talked about your work, I treated it like a hobby.”
Alexandra did not know what to say.
Jennifer looked down.
“I remember when you showed me that first project.”
A small smile appeared.
“You were so excited.”
Alexandra remembered.
A tiny apartment.
A cheap bottle of wine.
Jennifer sitting on the floor looking through early concepts.
“You told me it was impossible,” Alexandra said.
Jennifer winced.
“I did.”
“And then you told me I should get a normal job.”
“I was wrong.”
The words came out simply.
No excuse.
No explanation.
That mattered.
Alexandra nodded.
“Thank you.”
It was not forgiveness.
Not yet.
But it was a place to begin.
Marcus stood suddenly.
The chair moved loudly against the floor.
Everyone looked at him.
“I need some air.”
Nobody stopped him.
He walked toward the back door.
Alexandra watched him leave.
A part of her expected satisfaction.
She had imagined this moment so many times.
Marcus realizing he was wrong.
Marcus unable to speak.
Marcus finally seeing her.
But reality was quieter.
He was still a person.
A flawed one.
A person who had spent years believing he understood the world.
And now the world had become larger than he expected.
Outside, the backyard lights reflected against the glass.
Marcus stood alone near the steps.
Alexandra considered following him.
Then stopped.
That surprised her.
The old Alexandra would have chased.
May you like
She would have explained.
She would have tried to make him comfortable with the truth.
