How to Be Perfectly Fine While Falling Apart

Chapter 2: Day at work

The meeting is already running. Nina listens, pen in hand, nodding as Dave presents the new proposal. She adds a few points - sharp, precise, controlled. From the outside, she looks composed. Inside, she’s counting seconds between sips of coffee, pretending she didn’t wake up three times last night to check emails on her phone.

Her screen fills with numbers and talking heads. She leads the negotiation like she’s done a hundred times before - calm, confident, competent. The call ends with polite smiles, and Dave gives her a thumbs-up. “Good work,” he says. She smiles back. “Thanks,” she replies. But the word lands flat in her throat.

Her phone vibrates on the table. One message. Two. Then a call. The school nurse. “Your daughter isn’t feeling well. Can you come?” Nina’s stomach tightens. She types a quick message, her fingers barely pausing between thoughts. “Mom, could you please pick up Emma from school? She’s sick again. I’ll be in meetings all afternoon. Thank you ❤️.”

She stares at the screen for a moment, thinking she’ll call back later - but she never does. Another meeting has already started.

By noon, the office hum feels heavier. Everyone’s moving fast, voices low but urgent. Nina stands in line at the canteen, coffee in hand, scanning her inbox. She doesn’t even taste the drink anymore - it’s just something to hold between emails and expectations.

She sits down by the window for a moment. Outside, sunlight flickers across parked cars and pale November leaves. Her reflection in the glass looks… different today. A little pale. A little distant.

How long can I keep doing this? The thought comes quietly, like an echo she doesn’t want to hear. But before she can finish it, her phone lights up again.

Her husband. “Hey, can you pick up Max from football later? I’ll be stuck in traffic.” She exhales slowly. “I’m still at the office,” she says. “Maybe Mom can take him?” “That’d be great,” he says, relieved. “Thanks.”

She sends another quick message: “Mom, could you please get Max too? I owe you dinner.” One more thing off her list - and another piece of herself handed away.

The rest of the afternoon blurs. Emails. Calls. Problem-solving. Her brain feels like a computer with too many tabs open. She pushes through - because that’s what she does. That’s what everyone expects her to do.

When she finally gets home, it’s after seven. Her mom is in the kitchen, stirring soup, the smell warm and familiar. Emma’s asleep on the couch, cheeks flushed but peaceful. Max is upstairs, doing homework. Her mother turns and smiles. “You should eat,” she says softly. Nina nods. “I will. Just one email first.”

Her laptop screen lights up the counter - the glow pale against the evening light. She glances at her daughter, then back at the screen.

How long can I keep doing this? The question feels heavier now. But she already knows tomorrow will start the same way.

Only this time, someone will finally ask her if she’s okay. And she might - just might - tell the truth.

The house is quiet now. Her mom has gone home. The laptop hums softly on the counter.

Nina glances at her daughter, asleep on the couch - and then back at the glowing screen. For a moment, she wonders which one of them she’s taking care of less.

How long can I keep doing this?The question lingers, heavier this time - not just in her mind, but somewhere deeper.

She picks up her phone, hesitates, then starts typing. “Hey… can we talk tomorrow?”

It’s a small message. But maybe, this time, it’s the start of something changing.

Tomorrow: Chapter 3 - The Conversation with Her Friend