The Resignation

The emergency meeting began at 6:41 AM.

This was unusual.

Nothing good happened at 6:41 AM.

Aditi 2 was already seated.

Aditi 1 entered carrying coffee.

Aditi 3 entered carrying optimism.

Aditi 2: I have an announcement.

Aditi 1: You look serious.

Aditi 3: Concerningly serious.

Aditi 2 slid a document across the table.

The title read:

RESIGNATION LETTER

The room froze.

Aditi 1: Excuse me?

Aditi 3: What?

Aditi 2: I'm tired.

Nobody spoke.

Aditi 2: I'm tired of carrying everything.

Still nobody spoke.

Aditi 2: The meetings.

The deadlines.

The forecasts.

The planning.

The constant feeling that if I stop moving everything falls apart.

Aditi 1 looked down.

Aditi 3 stopped smiling.

Aditi 2: I don't want to do it anymore.

For a moment, the room was completely silent.

Then Aditi 1 spoke.

Very softly.

Aditi 1: You know we can't function without you, right?

Aditi 2: That's the problem.

Aditi 1: No.

Aditi 2: Yes.

Aditi 3: Wait.

Both turned toward her.

Aditi 3: I think we're talking about the wrong thing.

Aditi 2: What do you mean?

Aditi 3: You don't want to resign.

Aditi 2: I absolutely do.

Aditi 3: No.

Aditi 2: I wrote a letter.

Aditi 3: You want help.

Aditi 2: ...

Aditi 3: Those aren't the same thing.

The room became quiet again.

Aditi 1: Oh.

Aditi 3: You don't want to disappear.

You just don't want to carry everything by yourself.

Aditi 2 stared at the resignation letter.

Then at the two of them.

Then back at the letter.

Aditi 2: Maybe.

Aditi 1: Definitely.

Aditi 3: Absolutely.

Aditi 2: I hate when you're right.

Aditi 3: I know.

Aditi 1: Can I say something?

Aditi 2: Proceed.

Aditi 1: You're always trying to save us.

Aditi 2: Someone has to.

Aditi 1: I know.

Aditi 2: And neither of you make it easy.

Aditi 3: Fair.

Aditi 1: Very fair.

Aditi 2: You start projects.

Aditi 3: Correct.

Aditi 2: You start emotional investigations.

Aditi 1: Also correct.

Aditi 2: And somehow I end up cleaning everything up.

Aditi 1: Yeah.

Aditi 3: You do.

For the first time, nobody argued.

Because it was true.

Aditi 2: Sometimes I feel like the only adult here.

Aditi 1: That's because you're measuring adulthood incorrectly.

Aditi 2: Excuse me?

Aditi 1: You think adulthood means responsibility.

Aditi 3: Interesting.

Aditi 1: But it also means joy.

Aditi 1: And creativity.

Aditi 1: And curiosity.

Aditi 1: And love.

Aditi 2 didn’t respond.

Aditi 1: You keep protecting the life.

Aditi 3: But we're the reason you want the life.

The room became very still.

That landed.

Aditi 2 looked at the resignation letter.

Then folded it in half.

Then folded it again.

Then tossed it into the trash.

Aditi 1: Good.

Aditi 3: Good.

Aditi 2: Don't get excited.

Aditi 1: Too late.

Aditi 3: Way too late.

Aditi 2: I am not staying because I suddenly love everything.

Aditi 1: Okay.

Aditi 3: Okay.

Aditi 2: I'm staying because we're not finished yet.

Aditi 1 smiled.

Aditi 3 smiled.

Aditi 2 immediately regretted sounding inspirational.

Aditi 2: Stop looking at me like that.

Aditi 1: Like what?

Aditi 2: Like I just gave a speech.

Aditi 3: You absolutely gave a speech.

Aditi 2: Wonderful.

Narrator:
The resignation letter remained in the trash for approximately three hours.

At 10:14 AM, Aditi 2 quietly retrieved it.

Not because she planned to use it.

Just in case.

End of Chapter 10.