I balance on the edge between my career and motherhood.
My daughter is constantly sick, and the work process doesn’t stop for even a second.
I’ve learned to look for halfway solutions, sometimes bringing my ailing child straight into the office. There’s no choice—I simply adapt to the situation as best I can.
Life seems manageable, but only for a while.
Unexpectedly, my boss tells me good news that sounds wonderful: the company is moving to a place where the sun shines, the beaches turn white, and housing is paid for by the employer. I only need to give my consent—and I’ll be able to start a new life in this paradise.
I should be happy, but I’ve long lost faith in miracles.
My intuition screams that behind this beautiful offer there are moments my boss preferred not to mention.