SEEDS OF DOUBT - Breadcrumbing

Sleep didn't come easily that night. I kept picking up my phone, putting it down, and picking it up again. Each notification felt like a reminder of the growing gap between the life I had and the life I could have. Around 3 AM, I carefully removed Mike's arm from my waist and slipped out of bed.

The living room was cluttered with Mike's gaming collectibles—limited edition figurines and boxed sets that he insisted would be worth something someday. I stood by the window, looking out at the city lights. Somewhere out there, in one of those gleaming high-rises, were the people I worked with, probably sleeping in Egyptian cotton sheets instead of the Target clearance ones on Mike's bed.

Morning came too quickly. I left before Mike woke up, leaving a note about meeting the girls for breakfast before work. It wasn't entirely true—I just needed some time alone at the office to think.

The early morning quiet of Morrison & Partners felt different now. Senior Marketing Manager. My new business cards will arrive next week. I walked past the corner offices, imagining my name on one of those doors someday.

"Early bird!"

I turned to find Rachel striding down the hallway, designer heels clicking against marble. Everything about her screamed success—from her Cartier watch to her perfectly styled hair.

"Wanted to get a head start," I said, forcing enthusiasm into my voice. "Big day."

"I bet. First day as Senior  manager!" She linked her arm through mine. "We're still on for tonight, right? Sky Lounge? The girls are dying to celebrate."

"Wouldn't miss it."

"Great! And please tell me you're not bringing Mike." She caught my expression and quickly added, "I mean, it's girls' night, obviously. But also... Sarah, honey, don't take this the wrong way, but doesn't it bother you?"

"What?"

"You know..." She gestured vaguely. "The whole... situation. You're climbing the corporate ladder, and he's still selling Pokemon cards to teenagers."

The words stung more because I'd thought them myself.

"He's happy in his job," I said weakly.

Rachel's perfectly manicured eyebrows rose. "But are you happy with it?"

Before I could answer, her phone buzzed. "That's Richard. Probably calling about the new beach house. See you tonight!"

I watched her walk away, her words echoing in my head. Are you happy with it?

The morning passed in a blur of congratulatory emails and meeting requests. Around noon, Mike texted, "Miss you already. Lunch break soon?"

I stared at the message while picking at my salad in the executive dining room. The same salad I'd seen the CEO eating last week. The same room where deals were made and partnerships formed.

"Sorry, back-to-back meetings," I replied. It wasn't entirely a lie—I did have meetings. Just not during lunch.

"No worries! BTW, I found those vintage cards I was telling you about yesterday. Got them for a steal! Can't wait to show you."

I put my phone down without responding. Across the dining room, two senior executives were discussing their upcoming golf retreat. Their watches probably cost more than Mike's entire yearly salary.

"Sarah!"

I looked up to see Peter, my colleague who'd started at the same time as me, waving from the entrance. His fiancé, the investment banker, stood beside him in a perfectly tailored suit.

"Join us?" Peter called out.

As I gathered my things to move to their table, my phone lit up with another text from Mike: "Love you."

I slipped the phone into my bag without replying, plastered on my best corporate smile, and walked toward their table, each step feeling like a choice between two increasingly divergent paths.

"Sarah, you remember Amanda," Peter said as I sat down. His fiancée extended a perfectly manicured hand, her engagement ring catching the light. I tried not to stare at the diamond that was probably worth more than my annual bonus.

"Of course. Congratulations on the engagement."

"Thank you!" Amanda beamed. "Peter finally did it right—private yacht, sunset over the harbor. Though I almost ruined the surprise because I was stuck at the office closing a merger."

They laughed together, sharing the kind of look that belonged in luxury watch advertisements.

"Speaking of celebrations," Peter turned to me, "heard about your promotion. Welcome to the senior ranks!"

"Thanks. Still feels surreal."

"It's just the beginning," Amanda said, cutting her salmon with precise movements. "Peter tells me you have quite the strategic mind. You know, my firm is always looking for marketing directors. The salary range is..." She named a figure that made me choke on my water.

"That's... substantial."

"Well, you have to spend money to get the best." Amanda shrugged. "Besides, most of our executives' partners are also in high-powered positions. It creates a certain... synergy, you know?"

My phone buzzed again. Mike sent a photo of some rare trading card he'd just acquired. I turned the phone face-down.

"Speaking of partners," Peter leaned in, lowering his voice, "is Mike still at that game shop?"

The way he said 'game shop' made it sound like an euphemism for something embarrassing.

"He is," I replied, keeping my voice neutral. "He's actually been promoted to assistant manager."

Amanda's polite smile didn't quite reach her eyes. "How... nice. Peter, didn't you mention there was an opening in Richard's division? Sarah's boyfriend might be interested..."

"Mike likes his job," I said quickly, though the words felt hollow. "He's passionate about it."

"Passion doesn't pay mortgages," Amanda said gently as if explaining something to a child. "Trust me, I used to date this artist in college. Lovely guy, very passionate. Now, I have a partner who can match my ambitions. It makes all the difference."

The rest of lunch felt like a masterclass in subtle undermining. Every story and every comment seemed designed to highlight the gap between my relationship and their version of success. By the time I returned to my office, my stomach was in knots.

A meeting notification popped up on my screen: "Executive Strategy Session—Mandatory for Senior Management." The familiar thrill of advancement was now tinged with something else. In that meeting room, I'd be surrounded by people like Amanda and Peter—people whose entire lives matched their business cards.

My desk phone rang. Mike's number.

I let it go to voicemail.

The afternoon dragged on, each hour bringing new reminders of my growing discomfort. The VP of Sales mentioned an upcoming couples' retreat in the Maldives. HR sent out information about the company's premium matchmaking service for executives. Even the coffee shop downstairs had started carrying some pretentious brand that cost twice as much as regular coffee.

By six, I was more than ready for drinks at Sky Lounge. I texted Mike that I'd be home late, ignoring his response about saving me some leftover pasta.

The elevator to the 47th floor was all mirrors and chrome, reflecting back a woman who looked successful, ambitious, and put together. But as I watched my reflection, all I could think about was Mike in his faded jeans, enthusiastically explaining the value of holographic Pokemon cards to teenagers.

"There she is!" Rachel's voice cut through my thoughts as I stepped into Sky Lounge. She and the other girls had already claimed a prime spot by the floor-to-ceiling windows. The city spread out below us like a carpet of possibilities.

Melissa raised her martini glass. "To our newest senior manager!"

"To Sarah!" they chorused.

I smiled, accepting a glass of champagne that probably cost more than Mike's entire collection of vintage games. As my friends chatted about vacation homes and investment portfolios, I found myself drifting to the window, staring out at the glittering city.

Somewhere down there was Mike's small apartment, with its secondhand furniture and gaming posters. The life I'd been content with just days ago now felt like a shirt I'd outgrown—familiar but increasingly uncomfortable.

"Earth to Sarah!" Emma's voice pulled me back. "We're planning the Hamptons trip next month. You'll join us this time, right? No excuses about Mike having to work weekends at the shop."

I took a long sip of champagne, letting the bubbles burn away my hesitation. "Yeah," I heard myself say. "Count me in."

The city lights blurred below, each one a reminder of choices to be made and paths to be chosen. Success, I was learning, wasn't just about climbing the corporate ladder—it was about who you climbed it with.