That was the moment I knew. I wasn’t just leaving the city. I was leaving him, too. I'm breaking up with Alpha for good.
As I pondered how Ethan treated his assistant, Fiona, compared to how he treated me, my hand trembled, knocking my fork to the floor. My thoughts were a mess, and when I bent down to pick it up, I saw Ethan standing by the doorway, dressed and ready to leave.
Without even turning back, he tossed his words over his shoulder. "Something urgent came up at the office. I'll give you a ride next time," he muttered before hurrying out. Just like that—no concern, no care. I stood there in silence, wondering when exactly I became invisible to him.
When I limped into my cubicle, the pain in my leg from the rogue attack throbbed, but I pushed through. Something was off today, though. My colleagues kept casting me sympathetic glances. It was as if they knew something I didn’t.
Later, as I filled my water bottle in the break room, I overheard two colleagues whispering behind me.
“So, it’s true? Alpha really ditched our Luna for that assistant of his?” one said.
“Yeah! You should’ve seen it this morning. Fiona showed up with a stain on her dress, and he picked her up in front of everyone in the meeting room,” the other replied.
My grip on the bottle slipped, and it crashed to the floor, spilling water everywhere. The room went silent. I crouched down, cleaning up the mess without a word, my hands shaking as I threw the pieces of my pride into the trash along with the broken glass.
The day dragged on, and I ended up working late into the night. It was past ten when I suddenly felt something warm on my shoulders.
"Skylar," Ethan's voice muttered, draping his coat over me. Why didn’t you respond to my messages?"
I didn’t turn around. Instead, I pulled out my phone and saw his text: What flavor of milk tea do you usually like?
I hadn’t asked him for a milkshake in three years, not since that one summer. I’d begged him for one back then, and he’d looked at me with disdain. “Milk? Really, Skylar? You’re nearly 30. Don’t make me sick with this childish crap.”
But now, here he was, holding out a milk as if that would erase everything.
“I won’t be able to sleep if I drink it now,” I said, not even bothering to look at him.
There was a pause. “You used to beg me for this,” he said, sounding genuinely confused.