Steemit Challenge S26-w5 : Second chance romance - The Crack in the Glass

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On Monday, Dennis receives “Manager of the Year,” and a hairline crack runs through the carefully polished image. The city sees shine, a thirteenth-floor office over Tunis, a glass apartment near Berges du Lac, flawless numbers. Under the surface, a tightness grows into tremor.

Flashback returns like a tide. That evening, Jenny opens the office door. Work talk begins, then slides into the personal. A small error in a spreadsheet could have been corrected in private, instead, Dennis uses it in committee to protect a spotless reputation. One public sentence, one stiffened jaw, and Jenny walks out first the room, then the company, then Dennis’s life.

Perfection becomes a hedge, managed like a risky position, no room for loss, no room for softness. Weeks grind forward until a morning arrives when a hand hovers over a keyboard and cannot land. The façade splits. Therapy begins not grand, not cinematic, name the harm, avoid the “but,” leave space for silence.

Months later, a message appears. Jenny returns as an independent consultant, mandated to audit the very department Dennis runs. No chorus, no witnesses just two names. They choose neutral ground Belvédère Park, pines and peacocks and Tunis traffic soft behind hedges.

“Thanks for meeting,” Dennis says.

“The contract brought Jenny,” she replies. “Clarity first. Boundaries next.”

“Full access,” Dennis answers. “Emails, notes, decisions. No interference.”

“Then accountability on record,” Jenny says. “If documents show worse, the report keeps it.”

A folder rests between them like a third presence. Air moves, resolve settles.

The audit unfolds with distance and discipline. Jenny interviews, reads logs, threads timelines. Dennis steps back, responds to requests, stays out of rooms that invite performance. Findings surface what culture kept buried, a “no-mistakes” myth turning people cautious and quiet, pushing small faults underground until they erupt as bigger ones. The plan that follows is simple and stern, correct in private, apologize in public, document near-misses, celebrate repairs as much as preventions, record who was harmed and what repair occurred.

When the work phase closes, Dennis sends a message, coffee near Berges du Lac only if useful to the mandate. Jenny agrees. The water holds a late light, paper cups warm their hands.

“Second chances worry Dennis,” he says. “Control often hides inside them.”

“Then skip promises of a future,” Jenny replies.

“Start with one conversation, then another. Let outcomes stay earned, not claimed.”

Dennis speaks of insomnia and lists that read like survival spells. Jenny speaks of a climbing group in La Marsa, where the first lesson is falling before height. Facts anchor the talk, the TGM skims the lake, a jasmine seller crosses the boulevard, the wind smells faintly of salt and traffic.

“Falling teaches truth,” Jenny says. “Grip less, trust more. Weight on the feet, not just the hands.”

A week later, a photo arrives on Dennis’s phone: a climbing wall, chalk prints like constellations. Caption “Climb?” Reply:

“The void scares Dennis.” Response: “Perfect. Start by learning to fall.”

At the gym, halfway up a route, Dennis’s legs shake.

“Breathe,” Jenny calls. “Weight on feet.”

A slip happens. The harness bites, the rope holds, nothing breaks. Back on the ground, both laugh at the panicked clamp of fingers and at how fear like brik pastry looks thick and proves paper-thin.

Practice continues in ordinary rooms. When correction is needed, Dennis chooses a private door. When past harm is referenced, an apology follows in public, short and without varnish. Jenny keeps boundaries bright with clear terms, no blurred favors, outcomes over optics. Progress looks quiet, fewer grand statements, more small repairs; fewer mirrors, more windows.

One evening they cross Avenue Habib Bourguiba. Neon and bookshop lamps pool on the pavement. Reflection in a dark shopfront shows less sheen, more seams. Jenny’s hand rests on a table edge during pauses that once felt fatal.

“Presence over performance,” she says. “Every time.”

The conversation that began as audit notes widens just enough to include weather, sleep, and the light on the lake. No declarations with capital letters. Instead, a living contract asks before assuming, name the harm when it happens, repair where it happened, record the repair so the lesson outlasts the moment.

On the bridge between shores, train lights stitch the water.

“Second chances are not clean,” Jenny says.

“Second chances survive by procedure and sincerity,” Dennis answers. “Policy without apology is theatre, apology without change is the same.”

Wind lifts, rope fibers whisper in memory. Feet plant. Breath steadies. The city hums. Perfection stays brittle and unused. What remains is practice, knots learned, grips loosened, apologies spoken, boundaries honored. Two people, no heroes, building a steadier light one careful fall, one deliberate ascent, at a time.

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Thank you very much for reading, it's time to invite my friends @yonaikerurso, @drhira, @paholags to participate in this contest.

Best Regards,
@kouba01