Lily’s Point of View
I broke up yesterday.
Yep. Just like that—after two long years of emotional investment, Friday night ended with me standing outside my apartment building, holding a bouquet I’d bought for myself and staring at texts from my boyfriend—ex-boyfriend—apologizing for cheating… with someone I barely knew.
Classic, right?
I didn't scream. I didn’t cry. I just... peeled off my eyeliner, reheated leftover pasta, and watched reruns of a baking show until I passed out. The heartbreak would come later, I guess.
And now—Monday morning. Bright. Loud. Rude.
The sun was way too shiny for someone who just got emotionally bulldozed. My alarm didn’t ring
or maybe I threw it across the room last night
, and I woke up twenty minutes late with a single thought:
I do not want to be a responsible adult today.
But guess what? I was at my desk at 8:59 a.m. Sharp. Corporate survival mode: Activated.
I work at Watson Enterprises, a digital solutions company in downtown Manhattan. I joined as a marketing assistant a year ago, and since then, I’ve climbed every ladder with my bare hands and two cups of over-sweetened coffee. I’m twenty-three. I wear thrifted blazers, eat yogurt for lunch, and manage social media campaigns like my life depends on it. Mostly because it kinda does.
As soon as I stepped into the office, that annoying click-click-click of heels pierced through my already fragile nerves.
“Oh wow, Lily. You look... refreshed,” came the sharp voice of Camila Hart, our company’s official pain-in-the-neck-slash-princess-of-passive-aggression.
I gave her a look. “Thanks, Camila. It’s called sleep deprivation and regret. You should try it sometime.”
Her lips curled into a too-sweet smile. “Must be hard. You know... juggling work and your personal tragedies.”
Okay. Breathe. Don’t strangle her. Jail orange does not suit me.
I rolled my eyes. “It’s a skill I’ve mastered while you were busy learning how to walk without tripping over your own ego.”
My best friend Sophie, sitting at the next desk, choked on her coffee. “Oh my God, Lily,” she whispered, stifling a laugh.
Camila narrowed her eyes. “Well, just a friendly reminder, your campaign pitch is at 10. Don’t mess it up... again.”
That “again” was unnecessary. Last time I messed up, the projector froze and I tripped over a wire. A tragic combination of nerves and bad office tech.
Still, I turned to Sophie and whispered, “I swear, one day I’m going to replace her coffee with soy sauce.”
Sophie grinned. “Make sure I’m there to see it.”
We laughed quietly before diving back into work. My desk looked like a battlefield—sticky notes, highlighters, cold coffee from Friday
ew
, and a folder titled “Pitch: GreenTech App Campaign.” This was a big one. If it worked, I’d finally get noticed by Mr. Denver—our grumpy-but-decent manager. Maybe even land a team lead position.
At 10:00 sharp, I walked into the glass conference room with my shoulders back and heart hammering in my chest.
Fifteen minutes later, I walked out...
Alive.
I didn’t faint, stutter, or drop anything. People even nodded. Mr. Denver muttered a rare, “Good work.”
Sophie clapped quietly when I returned. “You did amazing!”
I beamed. “I blacked out midway but thank you.”
Camila, of course, strutted by with a snide, “Let’s see if good work actually gets you the promotion.”
I ignored her. Mostly because the email about the company’s 10-year anniversary gala just popped up.
Subject: Mandatory Attendance – CrossHill’s Black-Tie Gala!
Date: This Friday
Location: LeGrand Hotel Ballroom
I groaned. “Another party where I pretend I like being social while hiding near the snack table.”
Sophie leaned closer. “No, babe. This is a LeGrand party. Important people. Clients. Maybe even CEOs. Mr. Denver said it’s a good opportunity to... ‘mingle smart.’ Whatever that means.”
“It means I need a dress that doesn’t look like I borrowed it from a funeral,” I muttered.
She laughed. “We’ll go shopping. You’ll look stunning. Post-breakup revenge glow.”
I looked at her sideways. “More like post-breakup eye bags and hormonal acne.”
“Shut up,” she grinned. “You’re glowing with rage. It's hot.”
We both giggled like schoolgirls before the office fell into its usual Monday rhythm. Phone calls, typing sounds, the occasional sound of Camila fake-laughing at someone’s dumb joke.
Despite my heart still hurting like someone stepped on it, I worked through lunch. I edited campaigns, sent follow-ups, even helped Sophie with her presentation outline.
Mr. Denver passed by once, muttering something about “dedicated staff” under his breath, which I took as a compliment.
By 5:30, my back hurt, my coffee was cold again, and I was trying not to overthink the fact that I’d be attending a fancy party... single... and emotionally bruised.
“Hey,” Sophie whispered before leaving, “Don’t overthink the party, okay? Maybe it’ll be fun. Who knows? Maybe someone rich will fall in love with you.”
“Ha,” I replied. “The only thing that ever falls for me is my phone. Face-first. On concrete.”
She laughed. “Don’t be late tomorrow. You’re presenting with me at the client preview.”
I saluted lazily. “Wouldn’t miss it. Let’s survive this week first.”
Once the office emptied out, I stayed back to clean my desk. Camila had left a lipstick stain on the shared coffee mug again, and I muttered curses while rinsing it out in the pantry.
My phone buzzed.
Unknown Number: You up? – Aiden
I stared at it. Aiden. The cheating ex.
Delete.
Another buzz.
Blocked Number: Please just talk to me.
Nope.
Not today. Not ever.
I shut my phone off and tossed it in my bag.
Standing by the office window, watching the city lights blink awake, I sighed.
I didn’t know where life was taking me. I was still angry. Still sad. Still... tired. But there was something else too—a sliver of determination, curling deep in my stomach.
I wasn’t going to let heartbreak or Camila or anything else stop me.
I was Lily.
And even if my life wasn’t perfect, I wasn’t giving up.
Let the party come. Let Camila pout. Let Mr. Denver frown. I’d be there, heels on, eyes forward.
Because sometimes, all a girl needs...
is a little chaos to start something new..