A Journey from Bitterness to Truth

Chapter 183

“Tomorrow, we’ve got another client swinging by.” Hala finally finished typing up the day’s work, ran a spellcheck, and printed out several copies. She handed out the A4 sheets like a dealer at a poker game, “Take a look at the script, folks. If it’s all good, we’ll roll with it for next month’s launch. I’ve planted a ton of forks in the road, including two tragic endings–one where the lead bites the dust and another where the player kicks the bucket.”

“Oh man, those endings are gonna get us roasted alive,” someone groaned.

Baxter, tying her long hair back with a scrunchie, said, “Matilda, tough first day, huh? Burning the midnight oil already.”

“No worries,” Matilda replied, genuinely enjoying the vibe here. There was none of that cutthroat competition she’d seen in other workplaces.

“Let’s circle back for a quick meeting later. Orson, you done with those sketches?”

“Nope.” Orson had bags under his eyes big enough to qualify for carry–on luggage, a sure sign of sleep deprivation. Matilda half–expected him to face–plant into his monitor and snooze. “Hala just mentioned a client coming tomorrow, and I’m not in the mood to play host. Whoever’s got the bigger cojones can take it.”

Luna quipped, “That’s practically a dig at me.”

“I might be well–endowed in that department,” Hala added, “but I’m not going. Matilda, your turn.”

that they all dodged like a pop quiz?

really say no. “Guess I’ll give it

they’ll cough up a few million for our startup fund,” Orson said, eyeing Matilda as he tweaked a graphic. “You’re passable, with

whole girly sim game in a heartbeat!” Yoshi piped up from a corner. “I’d be crafting the next big

a pillow,” Orson

looked baffled. “What

to dream.”

Chapter 183

marketing department. The place was a ghost town, which

spark in her that had been dormant for far too long. As she stepped outside, she

up to her, umbrella in hand–a precaution he took ever since the rainy season started, keeping it stashed at the studio just

stand under the shelter of the doorway, taking his sweet time before he

The studio was nestled within an office building, and by ten at night, all the lights on the first floor were off, leaving only the emergency exits and the elevator glowing faintly. In the shadowy light, Orson’s face seemed distant, almost

his

Matilda shuffled over