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My school applications are progressing okay, but so far, most of my job applications have been rejected—even before the interview stage.

Apparently, having CEO experience and trying to switch to a traditional employee role is challenging. I don’t know if it’s because recruiters think I’m overqualified, not willing to do nitty-gritty work, or that I’ll jump ship as soon as a more senior role comes along. I’ve tried to address these things in my cover letter, but still … nothing.

My phone on my desk starts ringing, and I reluctantly get out of bed, a throbbing pain pounding my head. My sleep has become even worse since I broke things off with Isabelle.

When I check my phone, it’s Lucy calling me.

She reached out to me, also shocked and heartbroken, after finding out about Mom and Andrew. We ended up having a long chat, and she assured me that nothing would change between us. At her encouragement, I started seeing a therapist to process my feelings about Mom’s infidelity.

My phone continues ringing.

I pick up the call, and it’s Anna’s cheery voice instead of Lucy’s, which rings through my phone’s speaker. “Hi, Uncle Jace!”

The last time I saw her was dinner at my place before everything exploded. I’d do anything to go back to then.

“Hi, Anna.”

“You sound sad.” I picture Anna frowning. “Are you sad, Uncle Jace?”

A lump forms in my throat. “I’m doing okay.”

Not really.

“I haven’t seen you and Isabelle in a long time. I miss you both.”

My heart cracks open. “Sorry, Anna.” I can’t bring myself to tell her what happened. “It’s been … busy.”

“That’s okay. Anyway, Mommy says you’re applying for a new job and architecture school. That’s amazing! I’m proud of you for following your dreams, Uncle Jace! Keep it up.” Anna giggles. “Don’t tell Mommy I used her phone to call you, though. She and Daddy won’t let me have my own phone until I’m twelve.”

For the first time in what feels like forever, a tiny smile pulls at my lips, warmth tugging my chest. “I won’t. I appreciate your encouragement, Anna.”

Anna’s right. Despite the job application rejections, I’m feeling more determined. Persistent.

For the first time in my life, I’m finally doing something for myself, and I don’t care how long it takes; I’m going to keep pushing forward and jump through as many hurdles as I have to.

More selfishly, I can’t let my conversation with Isabelle at The Daily Brew be the last we have. I just need to get my life together first.

After ending the call with Anna, I pull out my notebook and pen, flipping to a fresh page.

My therapist, Barbara, encouraged me to start journaling, and it’s been a helpful way to brain-dump my thoughts. Some days, I pretend I’m writing to Isabelle instead, telling her about my day.

After our second session this week, Barbara gave me a homework assignment—to spend thirty minutes doing something that makes me happy, something solely for me.

So, today, I do just that. I start sketching a floor plan of my dream house, letting my creativity lead me and pretending there are no limitations. It has four bedrooms, a pool, a spacious kitchen, a library, and a fashion studio.

The end product is messy and full of scribbles and nowhere near professional, but for some reason, it doesn’t feel imperfect at all.

And then I realize I only included a library and a fashion studio because of Isabelle—because she’s the only woman I envisage building my dream house with, the only woman I want to spend forever with.

I asked Aaron to ask Jen if Isabelle was doing okay, and I heard she’d been busy with work. I wonder what she’s doing right now. She’s probably occupied with final preparations for her fashion show.

God, I wish she were with me, wish I could cuddle and kiss her again.

My vision blurs, and I close my eyes, swiping my palm down my face. When I reopen them, there’s a spot in my sketch that’s blurred—wet from a teardrop that fell onto the paper.

The sudden sound of the front door unlocking causes my ears to perk up.

What the hell?