Chapter 60
Days blurred together. I woke up, I went to work, I came home, I stared at the ceiling, I slept. Repeat.
The rhythm was mechanical, hollow, like I was moving through a life that didn't belong to me anymore. I felt haggard, worn thin, like someone had scraped out the inside of me and left only the shell behind.
I couldn't go back to the life I had before him. That was the worst part. Before Caspian, I had been fine. Not happy, not fulfilled, but functional. I had my routines, my work, my quiet apartment. It had been enough. Or at least, I had convinced myself it was.
But now that I knew what it felt like to be seen, to be loved. To have someone who made the world feel less empty. I couldn't un-know it.
I had gotten used to the breakfast baskets and the tulips and the way he walked beside me without needing to fill the silence. I had gotten used to him.
And now he was gone.
He had kept his word. He had given me space. He hadn't shown his face, hadn't sent flowers, hadn't left breakfast at my door. Nothing. Complete silence. Like he had never existed at all.
I knew it was what I had asked for. I knew I had no right to be upset.
But I was. I was so upset. A selfish, petty part of me wanted him to break his promise, to show up anyway, to fight for me.
I wanted him to prove that he couldn't stay away, that he loved me enough to ignore my boundaries and chase me down.
But he didn't. He respected my wishes. He gave me what I asked for.
And I hated it.
I hated that I had pushed him away. I hated that he had listened. I hated that I was sitting here, alone, wishing he would come back when I was the one who told him to leave.
His contact was still there. Vinegar Jar. I had saved it weeks ago, back when everything was simple, back when I thought I could handle him. I stared at his name more times than I could count, my thumb hovering over the call button, my chest aching with the weight of everything unsaid.
I never pressed it.
What would I even say? I'm sorry I pushed you away, but also I'm still scared of you, but also I miss you, but also I don't know if I can handle who you really are.
It was too complicated. It was too much.
So I would put the phone down. And wait for the feeling to pass.
The office was the same as always, but I felt different, smaller, like I was taking up less space than I used to.
The tulips were gone, the desk bare, and I found myself staring at the empty corner where they used to sit, remembering the way the white petals had looked in the morning light, the way the notes had made me smile before I even had my coffee.
I wondered what Anne would say if she were here.
She would have ridiculed me, probably, laughed at the fact that I had lost the favor of my mysterious "sugar daddy."
She would have found some way to twist it into proof that I was pathetic, or that I had finally gotten tired of pretending there was a man who never existed, that I was destined to be alone.
I realized with a start that I hadn't heard anything about Anne in weeks.
She had left work, supposedly for a better job, but it was like she had completely disappeared.
No gossip, no sightings, no nothing. It was strange, but I didn't have the energy to think about it.
I had too much on my plate already. Her life was her problem now.
A sharp knock on my desk snapped me out of my daze.
I looked up. Sienna was standing there, one eyebrow raised, her arms crossed over her chest. She didn't say anything. She just looked at me with that unreadable expression she had, the one that made you feel like she could see straight through every excuse you had ever told yourself.
She jerked her head toward her office and walked away without waiting for a response.
I followed.
The glass door closed behind me, and I sat down in the chair across from her desk. She slid a folder across the surface, and I opened it. My heart sank. Red marks everywhere. Corrections, notes, annotations. Several typos, all in one report.
"More than twenty typos," she said, her voice flat. "In a single document. I understand mistakes happen, but twenty? From you? I expect better."
I stared at the file, my hands gripping the edges. I had been so consumed by everything, so distracted that it was a matter of time before Sienna found it.
"If you want that promotion," Sienna continued, "you need to show your colleagues you deserve it. This isn't the way to do that."
I kept staring at the file, my hands gripping the edges too tightly. My vision blurred. She was right. She was completely right. I had been so distracted, so consumed by the emptiness, that I had let my work slip. I had let myself slip. And now I was paying for it.
Sienna sighed. It was a heavy sound, the kind that came from someone who was tired of watching someone make the same mistakes over and over.
"Is it that man?" she asked. "The one you picked up from the bar?"
That made me look up at her. She had guessed correctly.
"It's the second time you've been like this," she said. "No... the third time, actually." She leaned back in her chair and studied me with those sharp eyes. "Elera Carter. I thought you were better than this. I thought you had a little brain."
I stayed silent, my jaw clenched, my hands still gripping the folder.
Then, in a small voice I barely recognized as my own, I said,
"He wasn't who I assumed him to be. But he told me everything. He told me about himself, probably more than he's ever told anyone. And then I saw... what he was. And I... I couldn't accept it. So I ran away."
I paused, my throat tightening. "And this time, he isn't chasing me. Which is making me lonely, even though I told him not to."
I didn't know why I kept pouring my feelings out to Sienna.
This was the second time I had done it, the second time I had let her see the cracks I was trying so hard to hide.
Maybe it was her no-nonsense attitude, her complete refusal to coddle me.
Maybe it was the way she never judged, never pitied, never tried to make anyone feel better with empty platitudes.
She just listened, and somehow that was enough.
Or maybe I was too desperate for someone to listen.
She let out a huff. "And what did you expect from a man you picked up from a bar?" She shook her head. "No offense, but you could do better. Out of all places."
I bristled, but she wasn't finished.
"And Carter." She leaned forward, her eyes sharp. "You're a coward. A big coward. Whenever things get hard, you run away. You run away and think about it by yourself and torment yourself and everyone around you. I've known you long enough to see the pattern. You always run when things get too hard."
She paused, letting her words sink in. "How long do you plan on doing that? Just say yes if it is, slap them if it's no, and don't look back."
Something inside me snapped. Her words hit a nerve.
I felt them land deep in my chest, sharp and unwelcome.
She was right. I knew she was right. I had run when I saw Anne and Oliver together.
I had run when things got too hard in my old apartment, even though I was the one who had been wronged. And I had run now, too.
"It's not that simple!" My voice rose before I could stop it. "Not everyone can brush off feelings and emotions like you! Not everyone is strong and independent like you! Saying and doing are totally different things!"
The words hung in the air between us.
Sienna was silent for a moment. She studied me, her expression unreadable, and then she let out a dry chuckle.
"Yeah, I know. They're different. I'm a coward too, you know?" She leaned back in her chair. "But the difference between you and me? I accept it. And I'm glad you called me emotionless in anger, not someone who rose from nepotism and connections."
I sat there, my jaw clenched, my chest heaving. The anger was still there, simmering beneath the surface, but underneath it was something else. Shame. Guilt. The bitter taste of knowing she was right.
I mumbled, my voice barely above a whisper, "I have seen you work. Harder than the rest of us. That's not nepotism."
I stood up, taking the folder with me. "If that's all, I'll correct this and give it to you. Ma'am."
I walked out before she could respond.
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