2. Jo #2
Names. Faces. Handshakes. I smile and nod automatically, but retaining anything is impossible because Matthias’s eyes are burning into my skin, a brand.
Those eyes used to be everything.
Now they make running seem like the only option.
The meeting drags on forever. Notes get taken that won’t be remembered.
Questions get answered that don’t register.
And the whole time, Matthias watches with that look on his face, smug, superior, a look that says I know something you don’t, that says you don’t belong here, that says you’re nothing.
I’m not nothing. The scream builds in my throat. I’m the mother of your child and you don’t even know it and I survived you and I’m still standing and you can’t break me anymore.
But I don’t scream. I smile. I nod. I pretend.
When the meeting ends, I stand and file out with everyone else, desperate to get out, to find a bathroom and breathe and figure out how the hell working in the same building as the man who destroyed me is supposed to work.
“Joanna.”
His voice stops me cold.
Everyone else has filed out by the time I turn around. Just the two of us now. Matthias and me. Alone.
He’s smiling, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. It never did, comes the realization. Being too young to see it was the only reason that smile ever seemed real.
“Fancy seeing you here.” He moves closer, casual, like we’re old friends catching up. “Small world, isn’t it?”
“Apparently.”
“I have to admit, I was surprised when your name showed up on the new hire list.” Another step closer. “Didn’t think you’d have the nerve to show your face anywhere near me again.”
“Excuse me?”
“Come on, Jo.” His voice drops, conspiratorial, cruel. “We both know how things ended between us. Running off in the middle of the night like some hysterical...”
“You were fucking someone else.”
The words come out sharp and cold, and watching them land is satisfying in a way that feels dangerous. His face flickers, surprise, maybe, or annoyance, hard to tell with someone who lies as easily as breathing.
“That was a long time ago.”
“Not long enough.”
“Look.” A sigh escapes him, heavy with condescension, like he’s the victim here. “I don’t know what game you’re playing, applying to my company...”
“Your company?” A laugh escapes, incredulous. “Your name isn’t on the door, Matthias. Your brother’s is.”
His jaw tightens. Good.
“You always did have a mouth on you.” He steps even closer, close enough that the expensive cologne he wears floods my senses, and suddenly standing in our old apartment is happening again, smelling that same scent on his skin after he swore nothing was going on.
“But let me make something very clear, Joanna. You might have fooled Nick into hiring you, but I know exactly what you are. A desperate little girl who couldn’t handle the real world, so she ran away and hid for seven years. ”
The rage that floods through me is so hot it’s almost blinding.
“Couldn’t handle the real world?” Each word comes out measured, controlled, even though screaming would feel so much better.
“I walked in on you fucking another woman in our apartment. While we were married. And when I confronted you, you tried to tell me it wasn’t what I thought.
You tried to make me feel crazy for believing my own eyes. ”
“You always were dramatic.”
“And you always were a lying, cheating piece of...”
“Careful.” His smile turns sharp. “I’m a partner here. You’re a junior architect who hasn’t even finished her first day. How do you think that conversation goes if you make this difficult?”
The threat lands exactly where he wants it to.
But backing down isn’t an option. I’m done running from him.
“I’m not here for you.” Each word is ice. “I didn’t even know you worked here. Trust me, if I had, I never would have applied. But I’m not going to let you run me out of a job I earned just because you can’t handle seeing the woman you betrayed.”
“The woman I...” He laughs, this ugly, dismissive sound. “God, you really haven’t changed, have you? Still playing the victim. Still acting like you’re so innocent.”
“I was innocent. I was your wife.”
“You were a child playing house.” He leans in, close enough that his breath hits my face, and disgust rolls through me in waves.
“And you still are. Look at you, shaking like a leaf, barely holding it together. You don’t belong here.
You don’t belong anywhere near me. And the sooner you figure that out and run away like you always do, the better. ”
My nails are cutting into my palms. The urge to slap him is almost overwhelming.
“I’m not running anywhere.” The words come out quiet, but they’re made of steel. “You tried to break me once. It didn’t work. And if you think you can do it now, with your fancy title and your corner office and your pathetic little threats, you’re going to be very disappointed.”
Something flickers in his eyes. Not anger, something closer to surprise. Like he expected me to crumble, to cry, to be the same scared girl he left behind seven years ago.
That girl is dead.
He killed her.
“Stay out of my way,” he says finally, the mask slipping back into place. “And I’ll stay out of yours.”
“Gladly.”
He stares at me for a long moment, jaw tight, something working behind his eyes. Then he turns and walks out without another word, leaving me alone in the empty conference room.
My hands are still shaking.
My heart is still pounding.
But I’m still standing.
And Matthias Anderson isn’t going to be the reason I lose this job.
The deep breath that fills my lungs feels like the first real one since walking into this room. The blazer gets straightened. The portfolio gets gathered.
And then I walk back out there, head high, shoulders back, ready to work.
Because that’s what survivors do.
We keep going.