January 3, 2030
The first Friday of the year showed its teeth early.
By nine, Timothy had already signed off on three approvals he did not care about and declined two meetings he did not need. He did it fast, clean, and without explanation. The building was back in full rhythm, and that meant the requests came in like water pressure finding cracks.
He kept his door half-closed. Not to be dramatic. Just to cut noise.
Hana did not knock when she came in. She never did anymore. She walked in with her tablet, her hair tied back, and a face that said she had already handled four separate fires before breakfast.
"Before you say anything," she said, "no, we are not doing an interview."
Timothy looked up from the folder on his desk. "I wasn't going to ask."
Hana dropped into the chair opposite him and exhaled once, controlled. "Good. Because I already told comms we're not feeding the rumor cycle."
