A Different Breed
“I’m fucking tired, Lana!”
His voice cut through the restaurant like a blade.
He stood there breathing hard, chest rising and falling rapidly, his hands slightly clenched as if he didn’t even know what to do with them. A few diners turned immediately, startled. Conversations died mid-sentence. Forks paused halfway to mouths.
Then all eyes shifted.
To the woman seated across from him.
Lana.
She didn’t flinch.
Didn’t rush.
Didn’t even look offended.
She simply sat back in her chair, one leg crossed over the other, perfectly composed in a tailored corporate outfit that looked effortless but expensive in every detail. Her posture was straight, controlled, almost detached from the scene unfolding in front of her.
Her glass of wine was still in her hand.
For a brief second, she looked at it, then placed it down gently on the table without a sound.
Only then did she look up at him.
“So,” she said calmly, her voice steady, almost soft in contrast to his outburst. “You called me out of work just to yell at me?”
That made him exhale sharply, like her calmness irritated him even more.
“I’m done,” he said, louder now, gesturing vaguely between them. “I’m done with this relationship, Lana. I’m tired. I’m tired of your attitude. Of the way you question everything I do like I’m constantly doing something wrong.”
Silence followed his words.
Heavy. Uncomfortable.
People nearby were now openly staring, some pretending not to, others not bothering to hide it.
Lana didn’t react immediately.
She just studied him.
Her expression stayed composed, but there was something unreadable behind her eyes. Not shock. Not anger.
Something closer to clarity.
She looked… mature. Beautiful in a quiet, intimidating way. Her wavy brown hair fell neatly over her shoulders, framing a face that didn’t look like it belonged in chaos like this. Her makeup was minimal, her features sharp but soft at the same time, like someone who had learned how to exist under pressure without breaking.
And still, she didn’t raise her voice.
“You’re done,” she repeated slowly, as if testing the weight of the words.
Then she leaned slightly forward.
“Or you’re just tired of being seen clearly?”
That landed differently.
His jaw tightened.
Lana finally leaned back again, her fingers resting lightly on the edge of the table. Calm. Controlled. Almost distant.
And in that moment, she didn’t look like someone being broken up with.
She looked like someone deciding whether the conversation was even worth continuing.
The entire restaurant seemed to hold its breath, waiting to see what she would do next.
She stood up slowly.
No rush. No hesitation. No anger.
Just a quiet, deliberate movement that made the entire restaurant feel even smaller around her. Her chair barely made a sound as she pushed it back.
For a moment, she adjusted her blazer, smoothing it down like this was still just another meeting she was late for.
Then she picked up her bag.
Her eyes met his again.
Calm. Steady. Finished.
“It’s over,” she said simply.
Not loud. Not dramatic.
Final.
The man blinked at her like he hadn’t fully processed it yet, his expression shifting from anger to disbelief in seconds. His mouth opened slightly, but nothing came out at first.
“Lana—”
But she was already turning away.
That was what unsettled him most.
Not tears. Not begging.
The ease.
She walked through the restaurant with quiet confidence, every step measured, her heels clicking softly against the polished floor. People still stared, some pretending not to, others openly watching her leave like they were witnessing the end of something they didn’t fully understand.
She didn’t look at anyone.
Didn’t acknowledge the whispers.
Didn’t turn back.
Outside, the night air hit her softly as she stepped out of the restaurant, the city lights reflecting faintly off her composed face. She walked straight to her car, posture unshaken, movements controlled, like nothing inside her had been disturbed at all.
Behind her, she could hear him.
“Lana! Lana, wait!”
His voice carried across the pavement as he followed her out, frustration breaking into desperation now. A few people outside turned to look.
But she didn’t stop.
Didn’t even slow down.
She reached her car, unlocked it, and got in smoothly, placing her bag beside her like this was just another ending she had already accepted long before today.
"Lana!" He called her name again, closer this time.
But the door was already shutting.
The engine started.
And when he finally reached the car, she had already pulled away from the curb.
No glance back.
Just the soft hum of tires against the road as she drove off into the night, leaving him standing there, still calling her name long after she was gone.
...
She got home much later than she expected.
The apartment was quiet when she stepped in, the kind of quiet that only comes from a space too expensive to ever feel chaotic. Floor-to-ceiling windows stretched across one side of the living room, pulling the entire city skyline into view like it belonged to her. Lights from the buildings outside shimmered against the glass, painting the room in soft gold and deep blue tones.
Everything inside was minimal but intentional. A cream-toned sofa, a low marble table, abstract art on the walls that looked like it had cost more than most people’s rent. There were no unnecessary things. Nothing loud. Nothing out of place.
It looked like her life now.
Controlled.
She dropped her bag on the couch and loosened the button of her blazer slightly as she walked further in, already reaching for her phone when it rang.
Her expression softened immediately when she saw the caller ID.
“Mum.”
She answered it while walking toward the kitchen. “Hi, mama.”
Her mother’s voice came through warm and familiar, full of comfort in a way only a parent’s voice could be.
“My baby,” her mother said softly. “How are you? You sound tired.”
Lana smiled a little, leaning one hand against the kitchen counter. “I’m fine. Just work. Nothing I can’t handle.”
“Hmm,” her mother hummed, unconvinced but affectionate. “Work, work, work. You are always working. My daughter is no a boss hm
?”
That made Lana chuckle under her breath.
“I guess I am.”
“Not guess,” her mother corrected immediately. “You are. I’m proud of you, you know that?”
Lana paused slightly at that, her gaze dropping for a second. Then she nodded even though her mother couldn’t see her.
“Thank you, mama.”
She opened the fridge with her free hand, scanning it briefly before pulling out a bottle of wine. Her movements were slow now, more relaxed. She grabbed a glass from the counter and poured herself a small amount.
Her mother kept talking in the background, asking about her day, her health, reminding her to eat properly.
“I am eating, mama,” Lana said softly, though there was a faint smile in her voice. “I promise.”
“Good. Don’t let work swallow you whole.”
Lana leaned back against the kitchen counter now, turning slightly so she could look out through the glass windows. The city stretched endlessly in front of her, glowing, alive, distant.
“It won’t,” she replied gently. “You raised me too strong for that.”
Her mother laughed softly at that. “Strong, yes. But don’t forget to rest too.”
“I will.”
There was a short pause, the kind that felt comfortable rather than awkward.
Then her mother’s voice softened again.
“You’ve grown so much, my baby. My little girl is now a boss in the city.”
Lana smiled properly this time, taking a slow sip of wine.
“I’m still your baby though.”
“Always,” her mother said immediately.
Lana’s phone buzzed again in her hand.
She glanced at the screen.
Another incoming call.
Work.
Her eyes flickered slightly, but she didn’t rush to end the call.
Her mother noticed anyway.
“I’ll let you go,” she said knowingly, her tone still warm. “Go and do your boss things.”
Lana exhaled softly, almost amused. “I’ll call you later, okay?”
“Yes. And don’t forget—eat something proper.”
“I will.”
“Love you.”
Lana’s voice softened fully now.
“Love you too, mama.”
The call ended with small exchanged kisses through the phone, the kind that still managed to feel real even through distance.
For a moment, she just stood there holding the phone.
Then she set it down gently on the counter.
The second call was still ringing.
She picked up without checking properly this time.
“Hello?”
Her tone shifted instantly back into business mode.
A familiar colleague’s voice came through, slightly rushed.
“Ma'am, sorry for calling this late, but the mural proposal just came through again. There client agreed and signed to the few adjustments we made concerning the mural in the contract.”
She turned slightly, wine glass in one hand now, her attention already sharpening.
“Send it to me,” she said calmly.
“It’s already in your email. Also, the external workers confirmed availability for the site meeting next week.”
That made her pause for half a second.
“Good,” she replied simply.
Her eyes stayed on the city outside as she listened, the glow of the skyline reflecting faintly in the glass.
“Anything else?” she asked.
“No, that’s it for now.”
“Alright. I’ll go through it tonight.”
“Okay. Thanks, Ma'am.”
She ended the call and lowered the phone slowly.
Silence returned to the apartment again.
She took another sip of wine, still looking out at the city.
Beautiful.
Distant.
Unbothered.
But her mind was already elsewhere, even if her face didn’t show it.
...
The next morning, Lana stepped into the company like she always did.
Composed. Measured. Unbothered.
The glass doors slid open automatically as she approached, and the reception area immediately shifted in subtle recognition. Conversations didn’t stop, but there was a quiet adjustment in tone, a soft awareness that she had arrived.
“Good morning, ma’am,” the receptionist greeted respectfully.
Lana gave a small nod as she walked past. “Morning.”
Her heels clicked against the polished floor, steady and unhurried. Staff members along the corridor acknowledged her presence with polite greetings, some standing slightly straighter as she passed. She didn’t slow down for any of it. Just a calm, presence moving through a space that already knew her rhythm.
By the time she reached her floor, one of her team members was already waiting near the hallway.
The woman straightened immediately when she saw her.
“Ma’am,” she said quickly, stepping forward with urgency that didn’t fully match her tone. “Good morning. I have the final updates on the mural project.”
Lana paused just long enough to acknowledge her. “Go ahead.”
The woman adjusted the files in her hands, slightly out of breath as she fell into step beside her.
“The client approved most of the concept revisions. The artist agreed to the adjustments on lighting balance and scale proportion, but there are still a few minor details he wants to refine before the final submission.”
They walked together toward Lana’s office as she spoke, the woman’s voice steadying as she explained.
Lana pushed her office door open and stepped inside, placing her bag on the chair before turning slightly toward her desk. The space was quiet, clean, and perfectly arranged, like everything else in her life.
The woman continued immediately, as if trying to make sure she didn’t miss anything.
“And he also requested feedback on the—”
“Pause,” Lana said gently, without raising her voice.
The woman stopped mid-sentence, blinking once.
Lana exhaled lightly as she sat down. “I just got in. Give me a second to settle, please.”
For a brief moment, the woman looked startled, then quickly nodded, a faint awkward smile appearing on her face.
“I’m sorry, ma’am.”
Lana shook her head slightly. “It’s fine. Just sit.”
The woman hesitated, then took the seat opposite her desk, still holding the folder in her hands like she wasn’t sure if she was supposed to relax yet.
For a moment, she just watched Lana.
Not in a disrespectful way. More like careful observation, the kind people did when they weren’t sure what version of someone they were going to get that day.
Lana opened her laptop, her movements calm and precise. She didn’t look rushed. Just focused.
After a few seconds, the woman spoke again, softer this time.
“Ma’am… are you okay?”
That made Lana pause.
Her fingers still rested lightly on the keyboard, but her attention shifted slowly to the woman across from her.
For a moment, she didn’t answer.
Then she gave a small, controlled smile. Not bright. Not heavy. Just enough.
“I’m… kind of,” she admitted quietly. Then she exhaled through her nose, as if resetting herself. “But I’ll be fine.”
There was no breakdown behind it. No excess emotion. Just honesty, carefully contained.
The woman nodded slowly, accepting that answer more than questioning it.
Lana closed her laptop slightly.
“Now,” she said, her tone returning to business smoothly, “continue from where you left off.”
And the conversation resumed.
