"You don't have to say it so quiet,ya know?" He asks,looking up from the screen. "I love you too." Caden chirps in his usual tone.His phone ringed and he scoffed,picking it up Caden stepped through the grand double doors of his mansion, the cool air inside only doing so much to wash away the tension clinging to him. He had barely gotten through the door when his phone buzzed again, the ringtone cutting through the otherwise quiet space like a knife. Without even looking, he pulled it out of his pocket, already feeling his blood pressure rise.
The moment he answered, his tone was sharp and biting. “This better be good.”
"Hey, Caden, it’s—"
Before the voice could finish, Caden cut in, his frustration already bubbling over. "Don’t start with me. You want me to do what now? Again? I’ve been over this, and I’m not dealing with it right now."
There was a brief silence, and then the other person on the line tried to stay calm. “Caden, we really need you to go out and handle this situation—it's critical.”
“Critical?” Caden scoffed, running a hand through his messy hair, his hoodie slipping slightly off one shoulder. “I swear, you guys must think I’m a damn superhero. You want me to go back out there and clean up another mess, after everything that’s happened?” His voice started to rise with each word. “You think this is just some walk in the park for me? This isn’t a favor; it’s my damn life on the line!”
The voice on the other end didn’t skip a beat, but there was a hint of hesitation in their response. “I know it’s been hard, but you’re the best at what you do. We need you.”
Caden’s chest tightened, and he let out a frustrated laugh. “The best? No. You’ve got the wrong guy. I’m done being the guy who cleans up after everyone else’s mistakes.” He rubbed his eyes, his gaze falling to the polished floors beneath his sock-clad feet. "And don’t give me that ‘easy job’ crap. It’s never easy. It never has been."
A long silence stretched out before the voice spoke again, trying to placate him. "Caden, we know this isn’t an ideal situation, but we really don’t have anyone else we can rely on."
Caden’s face tightened, and he stood in the middle of the massive entryway, pacing in small, angry circles. "You always come to me when things go wrong. And I’m done." His free hand gestured in frustration, as though the air itself could carry his words out to whoever needed to hear them. "I’m over it. I’ve given everything I’ve got, and you want me to keep going back out there? For what—more danger? More mistakes? No thanks."
Another pause. Caden could practically feel the frustration on the other end of the line, but it only fueled his anger. “I’ll have someone else take a look. But think about what’s at stake, Caden. The company needs you.”
“Yeah, well, the company doesn’t need me to be a damn punching bag!” Caden snapped. “And I’ve had it with this ‘easy job’ nonsense.” His voice was thick with sarcasm as he clenched the phone tighter. “Easy job my ass.”
He ended the call with a sharp click and tossed the phone onto the plush, velvet couch nearby. His breath came out in a short, frustrated huff as he plopped down beside it, running both hands through his hair.
The grand mansion—large and eerily quiet—felt cold and empty around him. The high ceilings and towering walls did nothing to drown out the buzz of stress and frustration swirling inside his chest. He stared across the room for a moment, his eyes unfocused, trying to let the silence of the space calm him.
His hoodie was a bit too big, sleeves covering his hands as he crossed his arms in frustration. He let out a long sigh, his legs stretched out in front of him, toes curling slightly against the softness of the carpet beneath him.
"Easy job," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head as if the very thought of it was ridiculous. "Sure, easy for you guys to say when you're not the ones getting dragged into this mess every damn time." His voice was quieter now, almost defeated.
The mansion felt even bigger now, the silence pressing down on him as he sat there, trying to shake off the weight of the day. He had everything—this mansion, the nice clothes, the luxury of not needing to worry about the small things. But none of that helped with the pressure of the work he did, the constant weight on his shoulders from his job in the medical industrial field, where every decision could mean life or death.
Caden leaned forward, elbows on his knees, looking down at the floor as if trying to find a way to focus on something, anything other than the constant pressure of the call, of the expectations, of what was being asked of him.
"Maybe it’s time I take a damn break,” he muttered, rubbing his face in frustration. “Yeah, easy job my ass.”
The words hung in the air, but no one was there to answer him. And honestly? It didn’t matter. All that mattered was the weight of it—the job, the decisions, the never-ending cycle of being the one who picked up the pieces.
He didn’t know how much longer he could keep doing it. But he wasn’t about to back down just yet. He couldn’t. Not when so much was at stake.
He let out a breath, slumping further into the couch, his eyes drifting toward the windows. Maybe tomorrow would be different. But right now, it didn’t feel like it.
Breezy and Pleasant
