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I wake up the next morning feeling groggy and disoriented. I can't seem to shake the memory of Damien's anger, the way he made me feel like I was completely incompetent.

I drag myself out of bed, going through the motions of getting ready for work. I put on my most professional outfit, a sleek black pencil skirt and a crisp white blouse. I tie my hair back into a severe bun, determined to project an image of unshakeable efficiency.

When I arrive at the office, I'm greeted by the same sleek, modern lobby. But today, instead of feeling excited and energized, I feel a sense of dread settling in the pit of my stomach.

I ride the elevator up to the executive floor, my palms slick with sweat. As I step out into the hallway, I can feel the weight of curious stares from the other employees. They're all wondering the same thing: how long will the new girl last?

I keep my head down as I make my way to my desk, avoiding eye contact with anyone. I sit down heavily, feeling like I'm carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders.

Before I can even boot up my computer, Nina appears at my desk, her face etched with concern. "Hey, Nova," she says softly. "How are you holding up?"

I force a smile, not wanting to let her see how much I'm struggling. "I'm fine," I say, my voice sounding false even to my own ears. "Just ready to get to work."

Nina gives me a knowing look. "Sure you are," she says, her tone gentle. "Listen, I know it's tough. Damien can be... challenging, to say the least. But you've got this. You're tougher than you think."

I want to believe her, but it's hard to shake the feeling of inadequacy that's been dogging me since yesterday. "I don't know," I admit, my voice small. "I feel like I'm in over my head. Like I'm never going to be able to measure up to what he expects."

Nina reaches out and squeezes my shoulder. "You will. Trust me. Just take it one day at a time, one task at a time. And don't be afraid to ask for help when you need it. That's what I'm here for."

I manage a weak smile. "Thanks, Nina. I appreciate it. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Nina grins. "Probably crash and burn in a spectacular fashion. But luckily for you, you've got me in your corner. Now, let's get you through this day. One step at a time, okay?"

I nod, feeling a flicker of determination sparking to life in my chest. "Okay. One step at a time."

With Nina's encouragement ringing in my ears, I turn to my computer and start tackling my to-do list. It's going to be a long day, but somehow, with Nina's support, I feel like I might just be able to make it through.

As the hours tick by, I lose myself in my work, trying to block out the whispers and the stares. But it's hard to concentrate when I feel like I'm constantly being watched, constantly judged.

Around noon, I decide to take a quick break. I head to the break room, hoping to grab a cup of coffee and clear my head. But as soon as I step inside, I realize my mistake.

The room is filled with my colleagues, all of them huddled around the coffee machine, talking in hushed tones. As soon as they see me, the conversation dies down, and a tense silence falls over the room.

I feel like I'm walking into a lion's den. I force myself to keep my head high, to meet their gazes with a steady stare. But inside, I'm quaking.

I pour myself a cup of coffee, trying to ignore the weight of their stares. But as I turn to leave, I hear a snippet of conversation that stops me in my tracks.

"Did you hear about Nova?" one woman asks, her voice dripping with glee. "Apparently, she made a huge mistake yesterday. Damien was furious."

"Really?" another woman chimes in. "I'm surprised she lasted this long. I mean, have you seen her? She's so out of her depth."

"Totally," the first woman agrees. "I give her a week, tops. Damien won't tolerate anything less than perfection."

I feel like I've been punched in the gut. I want to turn around, to defend myself, to tell them that they're wrong. But I know it would only make things worse.

So I do the only thing I can do. I turn on my heel and walk out of the room, my head held high. But as soon as I'm out of sight, I let my facade crumble.

I lean against the wall, my hand shaking as I bring the cup of coffee to my lips. I take a sip, but it tastes bitter on my tongue.

I know I should go back to my desk, should buckle down and try to salvage what's left of the day. But I can't bring myself to move. I feel like I'm frozen in place, paralyzed by the weight of my own inadequacy.

I want to cry. I want to scream. I want to run as far away from this place as possible. But I know I can't do any of those things. I have to keep going, no matter how much it hurts.

I take a deep, shuddering breath, trying to compose myself. I can't let them see me like this. I can't let them know how much they've gotten to me.

I straighten my spine, lifting my chin. I'm Nova fucking Raines, and I'm not going to let a bunch of petty gossip girls break me.

I walk back to my desk, my head held high. But inside, I'm crumbling. I feel like I'm drowning, like I'm suffocating under the weight of everyone's expectations.

As I sit down at my desk, I can feel the tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. I blink them back, refusing to let them fall. I won't give them the satisfaction.

I turn to my computer, trying to lose myself in my work. But it's hard to concentrate when my mind is spinning with doubts and fears.

I keep thinking about the conversation I overheard. What if they're right? What if I am out of my depth? What if I'm not cut out for this job?

I feel like I'm on the verge of a panic attack. My heart is racing, my palms are sweating, and my breath is coming in short, sharp gasps.

I close my eyes, trying to steady myself. I take deep, calming breaths, counting to ten in my head.

In... two... three... four...

Out... two... three... four...

In... two... three... four...

Out... two... three... four...

Slowly, gradually, I feel the tension starting to ebb. My breathing evens out, and my heart stops pounding quite so hard.

I open my eyes, feeling a little more centered. I can do this. I can get through this day, one step at a time.

I turn back to my computer, determined to focus on my work. But as I start typing, I can't help but feel like I'm going through the motions. I'm not really present, not really engaged.

My mind keeps wandering back to the conversation in the break room. Those women's words echo in my head, taunting me. "She's so out of her depth." "I give her a week, tops."

I grit my teeth, trying to push the thoughts away. I can't let them get to me. I have to focus on the task at hand, on doing the best job I possibly can.

But it's hard to concentrate when I feel like I'm constantly being judged, constantly being found wanting. Every mistake I make, every little slip-up, feels like a glaring neon sign, broadcasting my inadequacy for all the world to see.

I start to wonder if maybe they're right. Maybe I'm not cut out for this job. Maybe I'm just a fraud, a pretender playing at being something I'm not.

I shake my head, trying to clear it of those destructive thoughts. I can't think like that. I have to believe in myself, have to trust in my own abilities.

I take a deep breath, squaring my shoulders. I'm Nova fucking Raines, and I'm not going to let a bunch of gossipy bitches break me.

I dive back into my work, attacking each task with a renewed sense of determination. I may be struggling, I may be doubting myself, but I'm not going to give up. Not now, not ever.

As the day wears on, I start to feel a little more settled. The voices in my head quiet down, the doubts and fears receding to the background.

I'm still not where I want to be. I'm still making mistakes, still feeling like I'm constantly one step behind. But I'm learning, I'm growing. And that's all I can ask for.

By the time 5 o'clock rolls around, I feel exhausted but accomplished.