Ethan could feel it—the slow, steady pull downward, like standing in quicksand. The harder he tried to stay above water, the more he sank. Every decision at work seemed to come with a set of impossible consequences, and even when he thought he’d made the right call, something would slip through the cracks.
But instead of slowing down and reassessing, instead of admitting to himself—or anyone—that he was struggling, he pressed harder. After all, wasn’t this what leadership was about? Shouldering the burden? Keeping up appearances, no matter the cost?
His breaking point came on a Wednesday afternoon, three months into his role as Regional Director. He had a call scheduled with the Board to discuss quarterly projections. They’d been on his case about the numbers for weeks now, pushing for expansion targets that he knew, deep down, weren’t achievable—not in the current economic climate. But what could he say? That he couldn’t deliver? That their star pick, the man they’d chosen to lead this ambitious new direction, was already faltering?
No. He couldn’t say that.
As the call began, Ethan found himself standing at the window of his office, looking out at the city below. He’d always loved the view—the way the skyscrapers pierced the sky, the cars moving like ants on the streets below, the constant hum of life. It used to inspire him. Now, it just made him feel small.
“Let’s talk about your numbers, Ethan,” came the voice of one of the Board members, a man named Griffin. His voice was cool, businesslike, but there was an edge to it. “We’ve noticed some… discrepancies.”
Ethan swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. “We’ve had a few setbacks,” he began, choosing his words carefully. “Some of the projections we made a few months ago didn’t account for recent market shifts. We’re adjusting as we go.”
Griffin’s silence on the other end felt like a judgment, hanging in the air. “Adjusting?” Griffin finally said, his voice calm but condescending. “Ethan, these targets aren’t suggestions. They’re expectations. We need results.”
The pressure was unbearable. Ethan felt his stomach knotting, his heart pounding in his chest. He’d been through dozens of calls like this in the past, but this time was different. This time, he didn’t have the confidence—or the numbers—to back him up.
“I understand,” Ethan replied, forcing a smile that no one could see. “I’ll make sure we hit those targets by the end of the quarter.”
“See that you do,” Griffin said before ending the call without another word.
Ethan stared at the screen in front of him, the silence in his office suddenly deafening. He wasn’t going to hit those targets. He knew it, they knew it, and yet… here he was, lying to himself—and to them—because the alternative was admitting failure.
He knew what needed to be done. He should have spoken up, told them that the goals were unrealistic, that his department was struggling. But instead, he took the path of least resistance. He nodded along, made promises he couldn’t keep, and told himself he’d figure it out later.
That was becoming his mantra. Figure it out later.
At home, things weren’t much better. Julie had noticed the change in him—how he was more distant, how his temper flared over the smallest things. The kids had noticed too, though they didn’t say much. It was in the way they tiptoed around him, in the way Emily would pause before asking him a question, as if she were afraid of triggering something.
One night, after a particularly tense day at work, Ethan came home to find Julie in the kitchen, chopping vegetables for dinner. The air smelled like garlic and rosemary, but instead of feeling comforted, he felt irritated. The clatter of the knife on the cutting board grated on his nerves.
“How was your day?” Julie asked without looking up.
“Fine,” Ethan replied, his voice sharper than he intended. He dropped his briefcase on the floor and loosened his tie, the tension in his shoulders refusing to ease.
Julie paused, her knife still in her hand. She glanced at him, her expression soft but cautious. “You’ve been saying that a lot lately.”
“Saying what?”
“That everything’s ‘fine.’” She set the knife down and turned to face him fully. “But you’re not fine, Ethan. You haven’t been for a while.”
Ethan sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s just work, Julie. I’ve got a lot on my plate right now.”
“I get that,” she said, her voice gentle but firm. “But I’m not talking about work. I’m talking about you. You’re different. You’re not yourself.”
For a brief moment, Ethan considered opening up—telling her everything. The sleepless nights, the anxiety that gnawed at him constantly, the overwhelming fear that he was in way over his head. But then the familiar voice in his head kicked in. The voice that told him to keep pushing, to keep everything together, no matter the cost.
“I’m fine,” he said again, this time with finality.
Julie’s shoulders slumped, and she turned back to the cutting board. “If you say so.”
The rest of the evening passed in strained silence. Even the kids seemed to pick up on the tension, quietly eating their dinner without the usual chatter. Ethan sat at the head of the table, feeling like a stranger in his own home.
The following week, the consequences of his “partial obedience” at work began to surface. The numbers still weren’t adding up, and Brad, his regional manager, was calling more frequently with problems Ethan didn’t have solutions for. He kept pushing deadlines, delaying decisions, hoping something would change. But nothing did.
One afternoon, Brad called with another crisis—this time involving a major client threatening to pull out of a deal. Ethan listened to the frantic explanation, his mind racing.
“What do you want me to do, Brad?” Ethan snapped, his patience wearing thin.
“I… I don’t know,” Brad stammered. “I just thought—”
“You thought what? That I could magically fix everything?”
“I thought you’d have a plan,” Brad said quietly.
A plan. Ethan didn’t have a plan. He hadn’t had a plan in months. He was flying by the seat of his pants, making promises he couldn’t keep, and hoping no one would notice.
“I’ll take care of it,” Ethan said, though the words felt hollow. He ended the call without waiting for a response.
As he sat there, staring at the phone, a cold realization settled over him. He was lying to everyone—his team, his bosses, his family. He wasn’t leading. He wasn’t even managing. He was pretending. And deep down, he knew that the façade couldn’t last forever.
But instead of taking responsibility, instead of coming clean, Ethan doubled down. He convinced himself that he could still fix everything, that he just needed more time, more effort, more… something. Anything to avoid admitting that he was failing.
The rebellion wasn’t in some grand, defiant act. It was in the small choices, the compromises, the lies he told himself every day. It was in the way he avoided the truth, the way he pushed aside the growing pile of problems in favor of quick fixes and temporary solutions.
And just like that, Ethan found himself walking the same path he’d always promised he wouldn’t—a path of half-truths and self-deception.
The worst part? He knew he wasn’t just fooling others. He was fooling himself.
Part 2 | Part 4
