My apartment was “affordable” by New York City standards, but on my salary it was still a stretch, an expense I justified because I loved the space so much. Tiny, yes, and occasionally visited by a cockroach or two. But it was all mine.

And, of course, I had big plans to knock down some of my credit card debt and pay off that trip I took to Miami three years ago, where I ordered a $300 bottle of wine by accident at dinner and was too embarrassed to tell the waiter I’d made a mistake.

I’d put all my hopes and dreams for the year on the vision board I’d made alongside my two best friends, Cleo and Lola, and a mound of bagels from Russ & Daughters on a Sunday morning in early January. A promotion at work, financial freedom, a vintage black Chanel purse made of soft buttery leather with a gold-chain strap. Losing my job had definitely not been on there. And I still didn’t have that Chanel bag. I guess at least now I could definitively say vision boards were 100 percent BS.

Doug, the head of IT, circled our communal desk with an awkward look on his face, logging us out of our computers with a few quick taps. Melinda was never going to get a reply from me about the bright-red velvet couch I’d sourced for her Austin living room. The fact that she’d be sitting there, irritated and awaiting my reply, was the only bright spot in this otherwise garbage day.

A stack of cardboard boxes was now in the center of the office, strewn atop the bright-pink couches that served as our design team’s morning meeting gathering space. Ramona, my quiet, introverted, and brilliant coworker, who created life-size papier-mâché sculptures at her art space in Queens on the weekends, stood across from me, sniffling as she placed a few items from her desk into a box.

“Ramona,” I said as I caught her eye. “I’m so sorry.”

She wiped her eyes on the back of her sleeve and gave me a weepy smile. “I haven’t told anyone here yet, but I’m pregnant.”

My mouth fell open. “Oh god.”

She nodded. “And Chris—” She got choked up again as she said her partner’s name. “He just quit his job so he could do culinary school full-time. We’re so screwed.”

My stomach flipped with that about-to-puke feeling at the thought of how they were going to afford everything they needed for a baby.

“It’s so messed up,” I said. “My student-loan bills are already a nightmare. I don’t know how I’m going to pay them down now.”