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."

Nothing I said would've changed a thing.

"Mr. Cromwell, don't be upset. I'm sure Yara just got a little emotional because she cares," Molly cooed, running a hand down his back like she owned the place.

Then she turned to me, all fake-sweet. "Yara, don't get the wrong idea. I just had a headache, and Mr. Cromwell was helping me relax so I could keep working. Everything we do is for the company—you really don't need to overthink it."

I didn't know the full story, but I could feel it—this whole setup had Molly's fingerprints all over it.

Sandy, always the diplomatic one, knew better than to speak up. Molly was Derrick's favorite, and she wasn't about to get caught in the crossfire.

Not that it mattered. Even if she told the truth, Derrick wouldn't have listened.

I kept quiet, but he wasn't finished. Still pissed, he snapped, "No need to explain anything to her. Personal matters stay personal. This is a workplace—we follow the rules. Since Yara broke protocol, cancel her bonus this month. And dock half her salary."

Sandy blurted, "Mr. Cromwell, Yara already—"

She probably meant to mention my resignation, but Derrick shut her down with a glare. "I don't want to hear excuses. Do as I said."

Sandy didn't push it. She just turned and walked out.

I was about to do the same when Derrick suddenly called out.

He sounded calmer now—maybe yelling helped him feel better. "Yara, I'm not targeting you. These are just the rules. If I don't enforce them, no one will respect them."

Molly jumped in, all helpful. "Exactly, Yara. Next time something's unclear, just ask Mr. Cromwell. Or me, if he's busy."

Derrick nodded like she'd solved world peace. "Molly really puts the company first. She knows more than anyone."

Then he turned on me, cold. "Unlike you. Always jealous. Always dramatic. Maybe you should try learning something from Molly."

Learn what? How to slide into someone else's relationship? Fake innocence while poking the bear? Steal credit, sabotage others?

I let out a quiet laugh. No point calling her out.

Derrick took my silence the wrong way. Thought I was feeling guilty.

He stepped closer, reached up to adjust my collar—nothing was wrong with it—and said, all serious, "I know what this drama's really about. I'm disappointed in you.

"But hey, you've matured. So here's your reward—let's take our wedding photos tomorrow.

"We'll move the date up. But don't get too excited—marriage is just—"

"Marriage?" I cut in, laughing under my breath.

I brushed off his hand and handed him the resignation form I'd prepped. "Derrick, we're done. I've already quit. Starting today, we have nothing to do with each other."