Page 38 of Triplet Babies for my Ex's Best Friend

My phone buzzes.

Uber arriving in 2 minutes.

Right, this is it. I take a deep breath.

“You’re fine,” I tell myself. “You're a professional. You're capable. You're not going to think about the fact that your boss has…”

Nope.

Stopping that thought immediately.

The car pulls up.

Game time….

Chicago looks different when you’re not walking it aimlessly with emotional damage and a questionable caffeine budget.

From the backseat of the Uber, it feels bigger. Sleeker. More intentional.

Like maybe I can belong here.

Like maybe this can actually work.

The car turns into a quieter street, lined with tall buildings that scream expensive in a way I can’t even quantify.

And then we stop.

I blink.

Because…

Oh.

This isn't a building.

This is a statement.

Glass, steel, clean lines. The kind of place where people definitely have their lives together.

“Here we are,” the driver says.

“Right,” I reply faintly.

I grab my suitcases, step out onto the pavement, and stare up.

“Well,” I murmur. “No pressure or anything.”

The lobby doors slide open automatically, like they sensed my intimidation.

Cool. Love that.

I step inside and immediately feel underdressed.

It’s all marble, soft lighting, and quiet luxury. The kind of place where even your footsteps sound more expensive.

“Okay,” I whisper to myself. “Act like you belong here.”

I will never belong here, but I walk forward anyway.