Professional Boundaries

Avery

The shrill ring of my phone cut through my morning routine like a chainsaw. I glanced at the screen while struggling to zip up my pencil skirt and groaned. Wyatt.

My thumb hovered over the decline button. I could always claim I was in the shower or cooking. But something about ignoring him felt unnecessarily mean. With a sigh that carried the weight of social obligation, I accepted the call.