TANGLED WITH MR BLACKWOOD

The email came in with a soft ding.

Subject: Payroll Notification – Blackwood Signature Events

Lexi stared at it like it might vanish if she blinked.

Then she opened it.

And there it was.

Her first real paycheck.

Not a late freelance transfer. Not a "partial" payment after too many follow-ups. Not an IOU from a flaky client who ghosted when it was time to pay.

This was different.

Real money.

On time.

Credited to her account by a company that spelled her name right, attached the right project code, and actually valued her work.

She let her laptop fall shut and leaned back into the worn cushions of her couch. For a few seconds, all she did was breathe.

The kind of breath that went all the way down — deep into her chest, her gut, her spine.

Not relief.

Not exactly.

It was proof.

Proof that she was no longer hanging by a thread.

That she was standing. Slowly. Steadily.

On her own.

6:52 PM – Zelle Transfer Complete

$400 sent to: Mom

Text sent:

> Hey Mom. First paycheck came in. Check your account. Love you.

Reply came fast:

Lexi!! You sent me money? Sweetheart, you didn't have to do that. Thank you — I'm so proud of you. But also… what's this big brown box by the door?

Lexi smiled.

It's an air fryer. Surprise! The old one was possessed. This one won't try to burn down your kitchen. 

Consider it a "thanks for raising a stubborn dreamer" gift.

She stared at the screen for a moment after. Her mother's words lingered. Not just the pride, but the softness in it — like for once, Lexi didn't have to prove she was okay. She just was.

And that was new.

She didn't splurge on designer bags or a fancy dinner.

Instead, she pulled on her sneakers and took a short walk around the block. The air was cool, the sky painted that dusky lavender that only appeared for ten minutes a day — right before night settled in.

She stopped by the corner bodega and grabbed:

Sea salt kettle chips

Chocolate-covered almonds

A strawberry sparkling water

And yes — two packs of instant noodles, because comfort food was comfort food.

Then, on impulse, she stepped into the tiny nail salon across the street. It wasn't anything fancy — just three massage chairs, soft music, and the faint smell of acetone. A quiet haven.

"Natural gloss, please," she told the nail tech. "Short. Clean. Neat."

Thirty minutes later, she stared down at her hands under the warm light.

No frills. No color. But they looked… right.

Like they belonged to someone who had somewhere to be.

Someone who was finally becoming the version of herself she'd dreamed of back when everything was falling apart.

Back at home, she padded barefoot into the kitchen. Tossed her keys on the counter. Rolled up her sleeves. And poured boiling water into the noodle bowl.

Jazz crackled softly from her Bluetooth speaker. The windows were open, letting in a hint of summer air and the occasional honk from below.

She sat on the floor — not because she didn't have a couch, but because something about sitting close to the ground made her feel more connected.

Noodles in hand, journal open across her knees, she scribbled:

First official paycheck 

Sent money home 

Bought Mom a new air fryer 

Got my nails done 

Had noodles on my own terms 

Mr. Blackwood said I'm "not bad at this"

And… I didn't faint in his office today 

She paused.

Drew a little gold star next to that last line.

Then underlined "not bad at this" twice.

That voice.

That calm certainty in his tone.

"You're not bad at this."

The words echoed. Gentle but grounding. Like a thread stitching itself into her bones.

Then — buzz. A voice note.

From Maya.

Lexi hit play.

> "Lex. You're literally living my dream. You walked out of that CEO's office like a goddess of logistics and quiet fury. I don't know what you said in there, but I know it was iconic."

Pause. Muffled snicker.

"Also — proud of you, girl. Just one tiny reminder from your bestie: DO. NOT. FALL. IN. LOVE. WITH. THE. BOSS. I don't care how tall or rich or brooding he is. Don't do it. Okay? Byeeee."

Lexi nearly choked on her noodles, laughing.

But then…

She stopped.

Because her mind — traitorous as it was — had flashed to him for just a second.

The way he'd looked at her when she said, "I came to matter."

The way he hadn't smiled… but something had flickered.

She stared at the ceiling. Then picked up her pen and wrote:

> "Maya's right. Focus, Lexi. Chill."

Enjoy the win. No distractions. Especially not ones with steel eyes and CEO authority.

Just before 9 PM, her phone buzzed again.

This time: Email.

From: Ava Sinclair 

Subject: Just a Note

> Miss Thompson,

Just saw your payroll summary and wanted to say — nice work on the Celeste & Co. negotiation. Saved us more than just budget. You're making yourself known.

Keep it up.

– Ava S.

Director, Blackwood Signature Events

Lexi blinked.

Ava.

Direct. Blunt. Not a woman who gave out praise for free.

It felt… massive.

She pressed a palm to her chest, as if that small square of praise needed to be physically anchored.

She whispered aloud to no one, "You're making yourself known."

Then closed her eyes.

The city was cooling down.

Lexi stepped out onto the building's shared rooftop with a fleece blanket wrapped around her shoulders and her journal tucked under one arm. It wasn't fancy — just a few rusted chairs, string lights, and the hum of traffic several stories below.

But up here, the chaos faded.

She sat, pulled her knees to her chest, and tilted her face to the sky.

The stars weren't bright — not here, not with all the light pollution — but she didn't need stars tonight.

She had something better.

Peace.

A paycheck.

A page full of quiet wins.

And a fire in her chest that said:

You're not done yet. This is just the beginning.