Here After!

31. Shadows of Stress

Giri

I leaned back in my office chair, staring at the ceiling, trying to ease the tension in my neck. Another day full of deadlines, endless calls, and the pressure to keep everything running smoothly—it was exhausting. The frustration sat like a heavy stone in my chest, and I could feel it growing, spreading into irritation I knew was bound to spill over if I wasn't careful.

By the time I got home, it was already late—too late. Just as I'd told Mom, she hadn't waited up for me. Exhausted, I had no appetite for food, and since it was already past midnight, I took a quick shower and headed straight to bed. I hadn't called or texted her all day, nor did I manage to respond to her messages. Feeling guilty, I sent a quick goodnight text before collapsing onto the bed, falling asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.

I woke to the sound of my alarm and noticed her lying beside me. I'd been so worn out I hadn't even realized when she came in and curled up next to me. Just as I turned to her, a text from a colleague pulled my focus back to work. I rushed through my morning routine and left for the office without even stopping for breakfast.

The office was no better than the day before. Some days, it felt like hell, and I couldn't shake the thought of quitting. But as a family man, with a wife and a mom depending on me, that wasn't an option. The internal politics in the IT world could be as ruthless as Indian politics. Some days, the managers seemed more like dramatic mothers-in-law than professionals.

The last few days in the office had been especially hectic. A portion of our team was being replaced by newcomers the client had hired, and handing off knowledge—or what we call KT (Knowledge Transfer)—felt like trying to draw a line in flowing water. It was frustrating; not only did they seem uninterested in actually understanding what we were explaining, but their polite nods and feigned attentiveness were more for show than substance. To make it worse, every session meant going back to basics, doing research all over again. It felt like an unnecessary burden we had to bear, with little assurance they'd actually retain anything.

The entire process was wearing me down. My juniors were constantly seeking guidance, each question adding more weight to an already heavy load. This triple effort of managing my tasks, fielding their questions, and shouldering the pressure was taking a real toll on me. I could feel the tension building, an invisible strain tightening inside me. I had no idea when my patience would finally snap—or who might end up as the unintended target of my frustration.

It was the fourth day in a row of staying late at the office. Each day this week, I'd come in early and stayed until late at night, and the lack of sleep was catching up with me. I was so drained I hadn't even spoken to Anu in days. The two precious hours we usually spent together each morning had vanished, replaced by a dead weight of exhaustion that had me sleeping like a log, barely aware of anything around me.

My inbox was filled with unread messages from her—a few "morning" texts, updates like "I reached the office," "I'm starting from the office," and "I'm heading home." I hadn't managed to respond to any of them. All I could do was try to make it through another day, caught in the relentless pull of work and fatigue.

By the time I got home, all I craved was a little peace, but it was already 3 in the morning. I took a quick shower and slipped into bed, exhaustion pulling me under almost immediately. Just as I began to drift off, a sensation of bright light flooded my eyes, interrupting my sleep. I flipped over, burying my face in the pillow, hoping to find solace once more. But just as I was about to drift back into oblivion, the noise began.

The clattering of objects being moved, chairs scraping against the floor—it was too much. I opened my eyes and sat up, my frustration boiling over. There stood Anu, a pile of clothes in her hands, attempting to offer me a smile. That was the tipping point. I grabbed the clothes from her grip and flung them aside, my voice rising as I shouted, "Can't you see I'm trying to sleep? Why are you making all this noise? Can't you do things quietly? Did I ever disturb you when you were sleeping? Why are you doing this to me? I barely hit the bed, and you start your torture all over again. Have you ever done anything for me other than disturb my peace and add to my stress?"

The words spilled out, heavy with pent-up frustration, the quiet of the night shattered by my outburst.

Anu's smile faded, replaced by a look of hurt and confusion. She opened her mouth to respond but seemed to think better of it. The silence stretched between us, thick with tension. I could see her holding back tears, and for a moment, I regretted my outburst. But the fatigue and frustration still churned inside me, demanding to be released.

"I'm sorry," she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't mean to wake you. I thought could...."

I rubbed my temples, trying to ease the tension that had taken residence there. "It's not just about tonight, Anu. It's every night. I come home exhausted, and I need some peace to recharge. It feels like I can never catch a break."

She nodded slowly, "I understand. I didn't realize it was bothering you so much."

With a quick apology, she gathered her things and walked out of the room. I felt a surge of frustration boiling within me, sharper than I intended. I caught the surprise flicker in her eyes, and that pang of guilt hit me immediately, but my emotions had already taken the lead.

I knew I needed to calm myself down before approaching her again. With that thought lingering in my mind, I turned back to the bed. Before lying down, I quickly sent a note of my leave of absence to my manager, letting them know I wouldn't be coming in the next day. I needed a moment to breathe, to collect my thoughts, and to sort through the chaos in my head.

As I lay there, the silence of the room settled around me, amplifying the regret I felt for my earlier outburst. I stared at the ceiling, wishing I could take back my words and the hurt I had caused. The exhaustion still clung to me, but now it was mixed with a heavy sense of unease about what I had done.

After a while, I closed my eyes, hoping that when I woke up, I would find the clarity to mend what had been broken between us.

I woke up to the dim light of a dark room, the realization hitting me that nearly 12 hours had slipped by while I slept. I quickly checked the time, wondering if Anu had already left for the office. After freshening up, I made my way to the drawing room and spotted Mom, busy giving tuition to a child. She glanced up and gave me a quick nod before returning to her task, her focus unwavering.

I wandered into the kitchen, reheating some leftover tea while my mind lingered on Anu. As I sipped the warm liquid, I checked my phone for any messages from her but found none. A twinge of worry crept in; perhaps she was upset. I considered calling her, but something held me back. I thought it would be better to speak directly when I saw her again, rather than through the distance of a phone call.

Finishing my tea, I took a deep breath, trying to clear my mind and prepare for the conversation I knew was coming. I didn't want to drag the tension out any longer; it was time to mend the rift and find a way forward together.