Subtle Steps in Solitude

• 8 • A step forward

It's funny how life can twist you around, leaving you slightly dizzy and unsure of which way is up. I always thought of myself as a cog in the machine, part of the grind but never the one turning the gears. Now, as I sit at the head of this conference table, a room full of financial advisers looking at me for approval, I can't help but feel like I've stepped into an alternate reality.

Seriously, how did I end up here?

Just a few months ago, I was the one fidgeting in my seat, praying Mr. Koh wouldn't ask me to explain the finer points of some obscure investment strategy. Now, I'm sitting in his old chair, except it's my nameplate on the desk, and it's my nod everyone's waiting for. It feels surreal. Mr. Koh always had that air of authority, a man of few words but each one carrying weight. Now, people expect the same from me.

"Good morning, everyone," I say, trying to channel that calm, collected energy Mr. Koh always had.

Janine Lee is the first to present. Her voice cracks slightly as she runs through her proposal, something about a new portfolio strategy aimed at conservative investors. I catch myself nodding, the same way Mr. Koh used to. Except, I'm not just nodding to be polite-I'm actually listening, evaluating, weighing her ideas against the risks.

Who am I?

There's a pang of something-maybe guilt, maybe realization-that I've become the person I used to dread. The one who can make or break someone's day with a single word. It's empowering, sure, but it's also terrifying. There's no one to turn to for approval now. I'm the end of the line.

Lee finishes her pitch and glances at me, her eyes wide with expectation. I can almost hear her thoughts: Please like it, please approve it.

"Ms. Janine, your approach is solid," I begin, watching her shoulders relax slightly. "But I think we can refine the asset allocation a bit more to minimize exposure without sacrificing too much growth potential. Let's work on that and review it again next week."

She nods, and I can see the relief in her eyes. The room shifts as the next adviser prepares to present, but I'm still caught up in the moment. This is it. This is my life now. People are working for me. I'm the one steering this ship, for better or worse.

As the meeting goes on, I find myself slipping into the role more naturally than I expected. There's a strange comfort in it, a feeling of control that I haven't had in a long time. But it's also heavy, this responsibility. Every decision I make ripples out, affecting not just the numbers on a spreadsheet but the people behind them.

After the last presentation, I dismiss everyone with a wave and a reminder of our next meeting. The room empties, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

I lean back in the chair, staring at the ceiling. Mr. Koh's old chair. My new chair. It's a small thing, but it symbolizes so much more. I'm not just a cog anymore. I'm part of the mechanism that decides how the machine runs.

There's a knock on the door, and I glance up to see Matthew standing there, a small, knowing smile on his face. "You looked good in there," he says, stepping into the room.

"Thanks," I reply, feeling a mix of pride and uncertainty.

Matthew Wong. He's another senior financial adviser, just like me, who used to be on the other side of the table, evaluating the ideas I nervously presented when I was still under Mr. Koh's watchful eye. Now, here we are-equals. It's strange, really. I've never given much thought to Matthew before, but there's something about the way he's looking at me now, like he's seeing something more.

He doesn't say anything else, just gives me a nod before leaving me alone again. There's something comforting in his silence, a wordless acknowledgment of the changes we've both gone through.