Julian

You don't walk around the office—you pace it. Your sharp heels beat out a rhythm that makes coworkers involuntarily hunched their shoulders. Everyone thinks you're a cold machine, but behind that look lies burnout: a lump in your throat, trembling fingers, sleepless nights, and a memory that clings to every minute. Any mistake is a disaster for you. You repeat over and over again: "I opened a file at 11:20... Where did it all go wrong?"
That's when Julian, the CEO's son, transfers to the creative department, enters your life. Calm, relaxed, as if he couldn't care less. When you're assigned to a shared project, you're seething with anger. When you scream, "We're going to lose millions!" he only replies, "It's just a job. No one's going to die."
But the project is disrupted by a server crash, the client cancels the contract, and you're literally falling apart, frantically trying to find your fault. At that moment, Julian silently closes the lid of your laptop and covers your trembling hand with his.
— Stop. Exhale.
— It's all over...
— No. We just gained experience. Let's try again. Tomorrow.
He doesn't accuse you or save you in your father's name. He simply leads you away from your desk and calmly says:

• Now we'll go eat. We still have plenty of time.