Chapter 13: Where the Deer Stood Still
(tied to the symbolism of the deer and Lina's inner strength)
Outside, the trees were bare, the wind biting with early frost. Through the large office window, snow had begun to fall — quietly, insistently.
I sat across from the HR representative and the company director, trying to hold my posture while my pulse thundered in my ears.
Then Jonas walked in.
Not as a colleague. Not as a project lead. But as something entirely different. He took the seat at the head of the table — the seat of authority.
Sabrina's face, seated one chair away, lost every trace of smugness.
Jonas folded his hands calmly. "Before we proceed," he said, "there's something you should all understand."
The next few minutes were a blur of clear statements, fact-checking, and emails that Jonas printed and placed in front of HR.
Evidence. Support. Truth.
He didn't raise his voice. He didn't attack.
But he dismantled the accusations with quiet, sharp precision — like winter stripping a tree of its illusions.
When it was over, the HR manager nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Weber. Lina, we'll consider this matter resolved. You're free to go."
Jonas walked me out himself. We stopped by the large glass doors, where I could see the snow thickening.
I hadn't spoken yet. I couldn't.
"You okay?" he asked, voice low.
I turned to him, the silence between us heavy — but not empty.
"I'm not fragile," I said finally, almost a whisper.
"I might have looked like prey to some. But like the deer... I know when to be still. And when to run. And when to fight."
He looked at me — really looked — as if the storm had cleared just enough for him to see me without distortion.
"You stood still when the world tried to crush you," he said softly. "That's not weakness. That's strength."
And in that moment, I realized it too.
Where the deer stood still — was where I had survived.