The Wellness Protocol

The lightning strike had been three months ago, but Elena still woke at 3 AM, heart racing, the flash burned into her retina. Not the weather kind—the corporate kind. The Friday email from HR, the meeting room with its hum of recycled air, the way Sarah wouldn't meet her eyes.

"It's not personal," Sarah had said, her voice smooth as a vitamin supplement pitch. "It's the new protocol. Wellness optimization."

Now Elena sat across from her at the coffee shop, watching Sarah arrange her supplements in a neat row. Vitamin D, magnesium, some unpronounceable nootropic compound. Sarah had always been gathering things—knowledge, connections, alliances.

"You look good," Sarah said, and something about the way her eyes darted away made Elena's stomach clench.

"I've been taking my vitamins," Elena said, her smile sharp enough to cut. "Trying to optimize my wellness."

The irony was bitter as black coffee. Sarah had foxed her out of her promotion—slid in sideways, all professional concern and strategic timing, positioning Elena's sudden leave of absence as a liability rather than the mental health crisis it had been. The wellness committee Sarah chaired had used Elena's medical records against her. HIPAA violations were hard to prove, harder to care about when you were drowning.

"I heard about the new position," Elena said, watching Sarah's fingers fidget with the supplement bottles. "Congratulations."

"It's not what you think." Sarah's voice cracked. "I tried to warn you."

"Warn me? You chaired the committee that decided I was too unstable for leadership."

"I fought for you," Sarah said, and for the first time, Elena saw something genuine in her face—fear, maybe. "The decision came from above. I told them you needed support, not sidelining."

"So you took the role they offered you?"

"Someone had to. If I said no, they'd have given it to Mark." Sarah's laugh was dry. "You think he would have protected your reputation?"

Elena thought about Mark, who called her "emotional" during meetings, who made jokes about PMS during budget reviews. The friend she'd chosen, back when they'd bonded over bad coffee and worse management, had been flawed. But she'd thought Sarah was different.

"So you're the lesser evil?" Elena asked.

"I'm your friend," Sarah said quietly. "And I'm trying to fix this from inside. But I need you to trust me."

Outside, summer lightning flickered through the window, brief as a camera flash. Elena thought about trust—how it corroded slowly, then failed all at once. How some supplements were placebos, and some were poison, and most people couldn't tell the difference until it was too late.

"Trust," Elena repeated, watching the storm gather beyond the glass. "Like a fox guarding the henhouse?"

Sarah's smile was tired. "Or maybe like a fox who realized the hens were actually her friends all along."

The rain started, sudden and hard, washing them both in gray light. Elena picked up her coffee, cold now, and wondered if she'd ever be able to swallow it down.