The old man smiled. “I got a promotion in 1985. Became branch manager. My wife left me the same year. Not because of another man. Because she said I had become the bank. She said I talked like a ledger, walked like a file. She was right.”
“I delegated,” he said. “The world didn’t end.”
She shook her head.
“Promotion?” Meera guessed, seeing his eyes.
He nodded. “Senior Manager. Twenty-eight percent hike. Stock options. Cabin with a window.”