“As for Marjorie Walker.”

John Henson turned to look at me：

“Your position, as of right now, officially passes to Kayla.”

I stared at him, unable to believe it.

He frowned.

Something close to reluctance crossed his brow.

It vanished just as fast.

He said：

“Marjorie, don't push your luck.”

Lesley Henson beamed：

“There now, Kayla. From here on, she answers to you.”

Kayla Fox looked down at the bracelet, back on her own wrist.

Her cheeks flushed.

She glanced at me, the corner of her mouth curling into a smugness she barely bothered to hide.

I watched the three of them put on their little show right in front of me.

And all at once I felt ridiculous.

I looked at John：

“Fine, Mr. Henson. As it happens, I no longer want this director's chair anyway.”

With that, I brushed past him.

Down in the underground parking garage, I had just unlocked my car door.

A hand caught me from behind.

“In a little while I'll move you under me as vice president. Kayla will still report to you, so don't read too much into this.

“Mother adores her. In a moment like that, I couldn't make her lose face.”

It was always like this.

After every fight.

He could always win back my forgiveness with a few explanations and a little softening.

I clenched my teeth.

And shook off his hand.

With him frozen there, watching, I got in the car and drove straight out.

Back home.

I found that John had already sent me a dozen messages.

The first ones were still explanations.

But the last one, against all odds, was a travel booking.

Seaside Bay.

A trip to the ocean.

【Marjorie, don't worry. While you're off after losing your post, I'll take time off too.

【That ocean you've always wanted to see, I'll take you. Call it our honeymoon.】

I couldn't even imagine it.

Once upon a time.

Reading a line like that.

How thrilled I would have been.

But this time, I replied with one simple line：

【No need.】

He answered right away：

【Be good, don't be angry. I've already booked the eight a.m. tickets for tomorrow. Tonight I'll work late and clear everything off my plate. Don't wait up for dinner.】

He tacked on a 【heart】 emoji.

I frowned.

Set down the phone.

Let it go.

Better to wait until he came back and say it all plainly.

I had already agreed to the matchmaking setup my family arranged.

This boyfriend.

I didn't want this anymore.

But the wait stretched the whole night.

By the time day broke.

He came back, faintly drunk.

And eight o'clock had long since passed.

“Didn't you say eight o'clock tickets, that we were going to Seaside Bay?”

I couldn't help saying it.

He narrowed his eyes.

Remembering something.

He smiled：

“Oh, I refunded those. Took Kayla instead.”

I went still.

“It's not like you haven't seen the ocean. You've seen it how many times now.”

He slumped onto the couch, plainly having gone a night without sleep：

“After I finished work last night, I meant to come home and pack with you.

“But Kayla had just been promoted, and the people at the office threw her a celebration. I had a few too many.

“She said she'd never seen the ocean.

“So I changed the plans on the spot.”

I held no hope.

And yet, in that moment.

I still couldn't stop myself：

“You promised me yourself.”

The alcohol slowed him down for a beat.

He smiled.

A smile that couldn't have cared less：

“Marjorie, how long have we been together? Almost ten years. We're an old married couple by now.

“Why are you hung up on a little thing like this?

“Besides, you've been to the beach three times already. Don't be greedy.”

When he finished talking, he leaned back into the couch and closed his eyes.

I watched him.

Something heavy lodged in my chest.

I had planned that ocean trip three times.

But I never made it. Not once.

The first time, the night before we were supposed to leave, John spiked a fever. I stood up my best friend and stayed by his side for three days, nursing him back to health.

The second time, he had a critical bid coming up. So I returned the tickets again and stayed up rewriting the proposal, draft after draft.

The third time, his schedule fell apart and there was no one to host an important client. I cancelled the trip the way I'd done it twice before, slipped on my heels, and went to meet the client.

Three times.

And not once did I actually leave.

Yet all he remembered was that I'd booked tickets three times.

I nudged his arm.

"Then I'll go with someone else."

His eyes stayed shut as he murmured back.

"Mm. Go with your friend."

"It's not my friend."

His eyes stayed closed.

I listened to his slow, even breathing.

I didn't disturb him.

I'd arranged a trip with the man from my matchmaking setup, leaving the day after next. Before then, I still had some files to hand off to a coworker. But the moment I walked into the office,

Kayla appeared in front of me, wearing the director's clothes.

"Oh? Marjorie, you're here?"

"Perfect timing. There are some documents that need printing, two copies of each. Once they're done, leave them on my desk.

"You know where it is, right? Right where you used to sit."

I looked at the stack of files she'd pushed up to my chest.

I shook my head.

"I came to drop something off, not to work."

"Marjorie."

Kayla smiled.

"Mr. Henson already announced it. I'm the director now. Did you forget?"

"I'm on leave at the moment."

"Did I approve that?"

Not a trace of the timid girl she used to be. She folded her arms across her chest, the very picture of someone who'd been sitting in that chair for years.

"Leave requires the signature of your direct supervisor. That's me. Did you ever submit a request?"

I looked her up and down.

"Do I need to submit anything to you?"

She frowned.

I let out a cold laugh.

Without so much as glancing at those files, I turned and walked away.

"Marjorie Walker."

Inside the president's office, John had just caught the whole scene.

Kayla looked over at him.

At once she scooped up that thick stack of documents.

"It's fine, Mr. Henson. Marjorie was my supervisor, after all. It wouldn't be right to make her do this.

"I'll go print them myself."

The files were stacked up to her chest. They might as well have weighed a thousand pounds. The instant she lifted them, she clenched her teeth and winced.

John's voice was cold.

"If she can't do it, what makes you think a director can?"

That didn't sit well with me.

Kayla rushed to speak. "It's fine, Mr. Henson, I've got it—" Her voice broke off. "Ah!"

She stumbled.

She went down, files and all, crashing to the floor.

John stepped forward and caught her by the arm.

"Careful!"

"I'm fine, it's nothing, Mr. Henson…"

Kayla clutched her ankle.

She looked over at me, the rims of her eyes faintly red.

John frowned.

"Marjorie Walker.

"You're not the director anymore.

"If you want to put on your sour airs, don't do it here.

"If you don't want to work here, fine."

He turned to me.

"Go to accounting and collect your pay. The company doesn't need you anymore."

Everyone was watching.

I looked at him, faintly startled.

"Go."

John said it without a flicker of feeling.

I hesitated for a moment.

I didn't argue back.

After all.

Even if he hadn't said it.

I was about to file my resignation anyway.

Perfect.

Now I wouldn't have to bother submitting a resignation letter.

"Then thank you, Mr. Henson."

I turned obediently to leave.

His brow furrowed.

After I left the office.

He sent me a message:

【Don't worry, I won't actually let them lay you off.

【Kayla's new to the role, and it's already hard for her to win people over. You humiliated her in front of everyone, so I had no choice but to do what I did.

【Once you're back from your trip with your friend, I'll promote you to vice president, and also...】

A photo came through.

It was a pair of engagement rings.

On the inside of each diamond-set band were our initials, engraved together.

【I'll make our relationship public.】

I didn't reply.

The day of departure.

I crossed paths with John Henson at the airport.

He had Kayla with him.

I was alone.

My match and I were flying out from our separate cities, meeting up at Crystal Lake.

"Wait for me a second."

John said to Kayla, then walked toward me.

"Why are you on your own?"

"We're meeting up at Crystal Lake."

He looked me over, head to toe.

Then draped his own coat over my shoulders:

"Don't worry, there are other people on this trip too. It's not just me and her, alone."

I nodded. "Mm."

"Marjorie."

He gazed at me, a touch reluctant to let me go:

"Be careful out there on your own. Call me if anything comes up."

"Thanks."

"When we get back, it'll be right on our tenth anniversary."

He looked at me. "Let's get engaged that day."

I thought about it.

Then smiled:

"That day really is a good day for a wedding."

He smiled too. "Then it'll be a double celebration."

"Mm."

Our flights were about to take off at the same time.

Him and Kayla.

Me alone.

We headed toward different gates.

John waved at me:

"See you when we're back, then."

I nodded.

I never did say it.

The man I was marrying was him.