22. Lucy
CHAPTER 22
Lucy
I sit at my desk, staring blankly at my computer screen. My mind is a whirlwind of emotions—confusion, sadness, frustration. The pressure of pretending everything is fine around Jarvin has become unbearable. I feel trapped in my own turmoil, unable to escape the constant reminders of our strained relationship. Tears well up in my eyes as I realize I can't keep this up much longer.
I swipe at my cheeks, trying to compose myself. The office hums with activity, but it all feels distant and irrelevant. Every time I glance toward Jarvin's office, a knot tightens in my stomach. His presence looms large, even when he's not there.
I think back to that woman in his office, her hand on his arm, her laughter, like they were sharing a secret only meant for them. The scene plays on a loop in my mind, each replay stinging more than the last. I try to focus on the task at hand, but the words on the screen seem to blend together.
My thoughts are a chaotic mess, bouncing between anger at Jarvin and frustration with myself for having to pull away. Why did I let him get so close? Why did I allow myself to feel something again?
The tears threaten to spill over again, and I clench my fists in an attempt to hold them back. It's no use; the dam breaks. A quiet sob escapes me, and I quickly cover my mouth, hoping no one notices.
"Lucy?" A soft voice pulls me from my spiral. One of my colleagues stands nearby, concern etched on their face.
"I'm fine," I manage to choke out, forcing a smile that feels like a lie. "Just... allergies."
They nod sympathetically but don't seem convinced. As they walk away, I take a deep breath and try to steady myself.
I slip away from my desk, the office's hum of activity fading as I make my way to the rooftop. The cool air greets me, a stark contrast to the stifling atmosphere inside. I breathe deeply, hoping the fresh air will clear my mind. The city stretches out below me, a reminder of the vast world beyond my current turmoil.
I pace back and forth, each step echoing the chaotic rhythm of my thoughts. The rooftop is a refuge, offering a momentary escape from the emotional whirlwind that has consumed me since seeing Jarvin with that woman. I replay the scene in my head for the hundredth time, each detail sharpening the ache in my chest.
Quitting my job seems like a drastic solution, but the thought of facing Jarvin every day feels unbearable. I imagine handing in my resignation, walking out of this building and leaving everything behind. The idea offers a fleeting sense of relief, but it quickly fades as reality sets in.
What would I do next? How would I support myself? My career is important to me; I've worked hard to get here. Another complication.
Leaving would mean severing those connections, losing the camaraderie we've built. It feels selfish to consider abandoning them just because of my personal issues. Yet, every time I think about staying, I'm confronted with the constant reminder of Jarvin—his presence, a persistent thorn in my side.
I stop pacing and lean against the railing, staring out at the city skyline. Protecting my heart from further pain feels like the most pressing need right now. But at what cost? Is it worth sacrificing everything I've worked for just to avoid one person? It just doesn't make sense.
I close my eyes, trying to find clarity in the chaos. The solitude offers a brief respite, but it doesn't bring any easy answers.
Back at my desk, I open a blank document and begin to type out my resignation letter. My hands tremble with each keystroke, as if every word is both a step toward liberation and a concession of defeat. The clacking of the keyboard echoes in my ears, matching the rapid beat of my heart.
I type:
" Dear Mr. Thraknar,
Please accept this letter as my formal resignation from Thraknar Financial Group, effective immediately. This decision was not made lightly, and it comes after much personal reflection. I am grateful for the opportunities I have had during my time here and for the professional growth I have experienced.
Sincerely,
Lucy Bennett. "
I stare at the words on the screen, reading them over and over. Each sentence feels heavy with finality. My mind races with doubts. Is this really the right decision? Am I letting my emotions dictate my professional life? The thought of leaving behind everything I've worked so hard for fills me with a sense of loss.
But then I think about the emotional toll this job has taken on me lately—the constant anxiety, the sleepless nights, the endless loop of painful memories triggered by seeing Jarvin every day. My well-being has to come first. I can't continue to pour from an empty cup.
With a deep breath, I make a few final adjustments to the letter, ensuring it's concise and respectful. I save it one last time before hitting "print." The whirring sound of the printer feels surreal, as if it's punctuating this significant moment in my life.
The letter prints out, and I reach for it with shaking hands. Holding it in my grasp makes everything feel more real, more permanent. Relief mingles with sorrow as I read through it one last time. This job was supposed to be a fresh start, a place where I could rebuild my life after my breakup. Instead, it's become another source of heartache.
Yet despite all that has happened, there's also been growth—both professional and personal. I've built relationships here that mean something to me. Walking away from those connections feels like tearing out a piece of myself.
As difficult as this decision is, I know deep down that it's necessary for my own peace of mind. Taking control of my life means making hard choices and prioritizing what's best for me. And right now, that means stepping away from Thraknar Financial Group.
With the resignation letter in hand, I feel a sudden wave of anxiety wash over me. The paper feels heavier than it should, like it's made of lead. My heart races, pounding against my ribcage with an intensity that makes it hard to breathe.
I stand up from my desk, clutching the envelope tightly. My palms are sweaty, and I can feel the tremor in my fingers.
My mind keeps drifting back to Jarvin. The thought of never seeing him again is both a comfort and a heartbreak. I take another deep breath, trying to steady myself. This is for the best, I tell myself. My well-being comes first.
With that thought in mind, I steel myself and head towards the hiring office.
Each step feels heavy, the weight of my decision pressing down on me like a physical burden. The hallway stretches out before me, seeming longer than usual. I can hear the faint hum of office chatter behind closed doors, but it all feels distant and muted.
I stand outside Karen's office, the envelope clutched in my hand. My heart pounds, each beat echoing in my ears. I take a deep breath and knock lightly before stepping inside.
"Lucy, come in," Karen says, looking up from her desk with a warm smile. "What can I do for you?"
I force a smile, my fingers trembling as I hand her the envelope. "I... I need to submit my resignation."
Her expression shifts from pleasant surprise to concern. "Are you sure about this? You've been an asset to the team."
I nod, unable to trust my voice not to break. She accepts the envelope, her eyes softening with understanding. "We'll be sorry to see you go, Lucy."
"Thank you," I manage to say before turning on my heel and leaving the office.
The weight of my decision settles over me like a heavy blanket as I walk back to my desk. Relief mingles with sadness, creating a strange cocktail of emotions that leaves me feeling hollow. I glance around the office and the finality of it all hits hard.
Sitting down, I begin packing up my desk, each item a reminder of the time I've spent here—the small victories and challenges overcome. A framed photo of my family goes into the box first, followed by books and notebooks filled with ideas and plans that will now never come to fruition.
This job was more than just work; it was a new beginning after everything fell apart. And then there was Jarvin—his presence made coming to work something I looked forward to, even when things got tough.
It's hard to believe those moments spent with Jarvin are now part of the past. Despite everything that's happened, a part of me will miss him deeply. I know I’ll have to face him eventually, but for now I focus on packing my desk.
When I'm done, I look around one last time at the space that has been my refuge and tormentor for so long. With a deep breath, I close the box and stand up, ready to move forward even though I'm not entirely sure where that will lead me.