Urich was in the kitchen that morning, still half-asleep, making breakfast for himself and his family. He had been doing this for almost a week now — the same slow, quiet routine since he was laid off because od he hate being lazy. The house felt unusually still.No calls. No meetings. No new offers.
He had always been the kind of man people fought to work with, but now, after what happened with Michael, it was like the whole industry had gone silent.
Even though he tried to act like it didn't bother him, deep down, it did.
The toaster beeped, and just as he reached for it, his phone vibrated on the counter. He glanced at the screen lazily — then froze when he saw the name.
Dayo.
He blinked, thinking maybe he was imagining it. But the message was real. His hands trembled a little as he unlocked his phone and started reading.
By the time he reached the end, a small smile crept across his face — the kind of smile he hadn't worn in days.
