The fluorescent hum of the office lights felt like a physical weight pressing down on Isabella. It was well past midnight, and the city outside her window was a blurred tapestry of muted streetlights and distant sirens. She dragged a hand across her face, smudging the faint traces of lipstick still clinging to her lower lip.

This wasn't how her Friday night was supposed to end. Not with the cold glow of her laptop screen illuminating endless rows of legal spreadsheets, and certainly not alone in a near-empty bar. Johnny, the owner, had long since retreated to the back, leaving her to her solitary, self-imposed penance.

Her phone buzzed, a stark white email notification flashing across the screen. Another demand for revisions, due before 9:30 AM on a Saturday, a day she wasn't even contracted to work. A defeated sigh escaped her lips. This relentless grind was supposed to be her path to success, her carefully constructed future. But lately, it felt more like a gilded cage.

She picked up her lukewarm drink, the ice long melted, and stared at her reflection in the dark window. The woman staring back looked tired, a little lost, and undeniably trapped. A flicker of rebellion, small but persistent, ignited within her. There had to be something more than this.