Not long ago, Derrick and Molly turned a business trip into a vacation. While they were off playing house, I slipped in my resignation. Derrick was too distracted to notice—he approved it without even reading.

Three more days.

Once the handover's done, I'm out.

I paused, then called Prof. Harrington, my old research supervisor, now overseas at a top institute.

Back when I graduated, I landed a high-tier spot there straight out the gate. But Derrick said he needed help starting his company, and like an idiot, I dropped everything and ran back to Arlencia. Prof. Harrington told me not to. I didn't listen.

Looking back now... yeah, I was dumb.

Feelings? They shift. Career? That never stabs you in the back.

When the call went through, I explained why I was reaching out. I braced for a lecture. Instead, Prof. Harrington sighed.

"I already heard... was thinking about asking you to come back. But this time... are you actually sure?"

"I'm sure. The resignation's done."

"Resignation? What resignation?"

The voice didn't come from the phone.

I turned.

Derrick stood in the doorway.

***

The call had ended.

I locked my phone without a word.

While I was still trying to figure out what to say, his phone buzzed. Molly again. She'd found a stray kitten and stopped to buy it a sausage.

"So cute," Derrick said in a voice message.

She shot back right away: "The kitten's cute, or I'm cute?"

Then came a selfie—her holding the kitten, pouting with a peace sign.

Derrick smiled. "The kitten's cute, but you're cuter."

Then, like suddenly remembering I existed, his face shut down. He turned to me, all cold.

"Didn't I tell you to get some rest? Why are you still up?"

The tone shift was whiplash. Nothing like how he talked to her.

And he'd already forgotten I said I resigned.

I gave a faint smile. "Just wrapping up a few things."

He frowned deeper. "It's late. What's even left? You seriously need to manage your time better, Yara. This procrastination thing is getting out of hand."

I didn't bother saying it was his constant last-minute crap that caused it. No arguing. No justifying. I stayed quiet.

He didn't push. Just walked off to the bedroom.

A minute later, I heard him laughing. Like, actually laughing.

Hadn't heard that sound in forever. He only laughed like that with Molly.

I tuned it out, sat at my desk, and pulled out some research journals I hadn't finished.

The institute had changed a lot in five years. Even with Prof. Harrington backing me, I'd have to prove I still had it.

Good thing my foundation was solid. I'd catch up fast.

"You're reading research journals?"

I hadn't even heard him come back in.

He picked one up, flipped through it, then tossed it back with a smirk. "Why are you reading this stuff? Do you even get it?"

I stacked the papers. "Just browsing."

I asked, "Did you need something?"

Back then, I used to light up when Derrick dropped by just to chat. Not this time. He froze like he didn't expect me to be so blunt.

His face shifted—awkward, like he'd stepped in something. "Yeah, actually. Molly just wrapped up a big project, so I'm thinking of promoting her. Should give the team a boost. What do you think?"

He looked straight at me.

Sure, he said he wanted my opinion, but we both knew that wasn't true.

I just nodded. "I don't mind."

Then he added, "But rewards should come with penalties too. You haven't finished a project in a while, so I'm thinking of moving you to a lower-level position. Just for now.

"Once things calm down, I'll bring you back. Don't worry—it's for the greater good. You're my fiancée, so you'll support me, right?"

I laughed—silently, in my head.

He still had no clue I'd already quit.

He could read Molly like a book—knew her mood from a glance, remembered every little thing she liked. But his own fiancée handed him a resignation letter he signed, and he didn't even realize.

That's what it looks like when someone just doesn't care. You can tell in one or two lines.

When I stayed quiet, Derrick assumed I was gearing up to argue, like always. His face darkened. "Even if you disagree, it won't change anything. The announcement's already out. Your office belongs to Molly now."

"Either accept the transfer or leave," he said. "But just a heads-up—the company's going public. Might wanna think twice before walking away."

He really thought I'd stay.

It wasn't new. I'd been shoved down the ladder more than once, all because of Molly's petty comments.

I took it back then. Derrick figured I'd cling even harder now.

I gave a dry smile. "I didn't say I disagreed."

"Then it's settled," Derrick said, sounding relieved.

To him, silence meant agreement.

He was halfway out the door when he turned back. "Didn't you used to keep our photo on your desk? Where'd it go?"

That's when it hit me.

It wasn't just the desk. I'd plastered our photos everywhere—my phone, the bedroom wall, my wallet. Little reminders that no matter how cold he got, he still loved me.

He used to laugh at that. Said I was obsessed with those "silly little things." He never got it. Never understood they were the only thing keeping me from walking.

Later, I saw them for what they were—proof of how pathetic I'd been.

"I broke the frame," I said flatly. "Put it away."

He frowned, immediately scanning the floor. "Try not to be so clumsy. Make sure you cleaned it up—don't want anyone getting hurt."

His tone softened a little, probably because I wasn't arguing. Then he left the study.

I watched him go and almost laughed.

That warning wasn't about me.

It was about not letting Molly get hurt.

This was supposed to be our home. I'd been the one keeping it together—until a few months ago, when I found a hair tie in his study. Pillows on our bed, out of place. That's when I knew. Molly had been here. More than once.

I called him out—I had to. Like he saw it coming, he slapped down proof they were just talking business, then turned it on me, calling me jealous and dramatic. To punish me for "overthinking," he started bringing Molly over like it was nothing.

She didn't even try to hide the way she looked at me—like she wanted a fight.

Thing is, they never technically crossed a line.

After a while, I started questioning myself. Every day felt like a loop of, 'What if it's just me?'

Honestly, if I'd put that energy into literally anything else, I'd be way ahead by now.

***

The next morning, Derrick proudly announced Molly's big promotion—right after dropping me to the bottom rung.

He hesitated at first, but once I stayed chill and acted like it didn't faze me, he bought it. Thought I'd accepted everything.

He was riding high. So was I.

While he threw Molly a fancy banquet, I was getting my visa approved.

While they chilled at an amusement park, I was packing. One suitcase—that's all I needed.

While they toasted clients at some club, I wrapped up my final handover.

***

Two days later—my last day at Vantrel—I wrapped things up with Sandy in HR.

Without even glancing up, she said, "Before you go, stop by the CEO's office. Mr. Cromwell wants to see you."

I was about to say no, then stopped.

I was flying out tonight. If Derrick went out with Molly like usual, this'd be it. No more run-ins. No more anything.

After five years, maybe a final goodbye was fair.

So I headed upstairs.

Right as I reached for the door, I caught a glimpse through the glass—Derrick kicked back on the couch, and Molly, in a long dress, was lying with her head in his lap. Way too close for "just business."

He said something, and she cracked up, covering her mouth like it was the funniest thing ever.

***

I froze.

Was about to turn back when Molly saw me. She shot up, startled. "Yara, what are you doing here?"

Derrick's jaw clenched. He yanked his wrinkled suit into place and barked, "Yara Yenford, who said you could come in? Didn't I tell you not to come upstairs without permission?"

He had said that once—but back then, the rule was 'no one but me' could disturb him up here.

I used to think that meant I was special. Now I knew better.

Not that it mattered. I was already out the door.

I kept my voice steady. "Sandy said you were looking for me."

He scoffed, stomped to his desk, and hit the intercom. Sandy showed up minutes later.

"You told Yara I needed to see her?" he asked, cold as ice.

Sandy clocked the tension. She glanced at Derrick's face, then at Molly's guilty one, and hesitated—way too long—before mumbling, "I don't remember."

Derrick let out a dry laugh, smug as hell. He turned to me, all frost and venom. "Wow, Yara. Thought you'd grown up, but you're still the same—always plotting.

"If you're that paranoid, why not just move in upstairs? Better yet, plant a camera on me. Then you can stalk me 24/7 and finally give that nosy little brain of yours a break."