Eliza's POV

My supervisor didn’t say anything at first. He just looked at my pale face, sighed with a hint of regret, and signed his name.

“You can leave after you finish your handover this week,” he said. “I won’t tell Mr. Thompson. No need for him to make things harder for you. Besides, your position isn’t high enough to report to him directly anyway.”

Relief washed over me. “Thank you, Supervisor.”

Right after submitting the form, my phone lit up with a message from Sean.

[How’s your waist? I bought some medicine. I’ll put it on for you tonight.]

This was how he always apologized—indirectly. Whenever he knew he’d gone too far but couldn’t bring himself to say sorry, he’d offer this kind of half-hearted gesture.

I used to think that was affection. I would even take the chance to tease him a little.

Now I realized, it was nothing but a way to keep me within reach—his little reward to keep me obedient.

So, I replied, [Don’t bother. I've already booked a masseuse.]

As usual, the team was hosting a celebratory dinner for the promotion, yet I used my massage appointment as a polite excuse.

But before I could leave, Yvette grabbed my arm, eyes full of wounded innocence.

“Eliza, do you look down on me for beating you out of the promotion? Is that why you’re refusing to come?” she asked softly. “Anyone else can skip it, but not you. I want your genuine blessing.”

I frowned and drew in a breath to respond.

But the same Sean, who had just agreed to let me go, suddenly spoke up on her behalf.

“Everyone else is going. It wouldn’t look good if you’re the only one skipping,” he said. “Don’t be so petty. As a senior, you should show some grace. Don’t let others laugh at you.” Then he also added, “You can get a massage any day.”

I froze, and bitterness rose in my throat.

I should have known long ago how cold he truly was, because whenever something, or someone, more convenient or more beneficial appeared, my feelings never mattered.

When I was twenty-three, in my second year living away from home, he promised to spend my birthday with me. I cooked and waited for him all night.

But when I finally called, I heard a girl crying beside him.

Yet, he didn’t apologize or explain. He only blamed me for caring too much about “just a birthday.”

Yvette’s mother had died giving birth to her. So, birthdays reminded her of that, making her sad.

So for the next five years, he never celebrated my birthday. He wouldn’t even let me celebrate it myself, either, not even on social media, because it might upset Yvette.

He always said it was all for appearances.

Yet when no one was watching, he still wasn’t willing to give me even the smallest bit of affection.

Now, seeing my supervisor subtly urging me with his eyes to let it go and not make trouble, I relented.

Fine. I would treat it like a farewell dinner.

At the restaurant, the two of them sat side by side. In her sleek business attire and his tailored suit, they looked perfect together.

Some people were simply out of reach, no matter how much you chased after them.

So when my colleagues joked about how good they looked together—“a perfect match, a natural pair”—I just smiled and nodded along.

“They do look good together,” I said. “Their age, looks, family backgrounds—everything fits.”

The moment the words left my mouth, both Sean and our VP, Henry Clarke, who’d been chatting with him earlier, froze.

In the past, whenever people joked about pairing him with Yvette, I couldn’t hide my discomfort. Sometimes I’d pretend I didn’t hear. Sometimes I’d just sit there stone-faced.

But today, I felt nothing, just like a bystander watching someone else’s story.

Basking in the compliment, Yvette lit up, casting me a triumphant glance.

Eventually, someone brought up the topic of marriage and settling down. Yvette quickly grabbed the chance and turned the spotlight on me.

“My dad’s been pushing me to get married. I’m going crazy,” she said dramatically. “I heard you have a boyfriend you’ve been with for years, but still haven’t married. You’re twenty-eight already. Doesn’t your family pressure you? Teach me your secrets. How do you deal with all that nagging?”

Eliza's POV

Everyone at the table turned to look at me, eager for gossip. Even Sean seemed tense.

Yet, I acted as if none of it bothered me.

“Of course, my family pressured me,” I said calmly. “But we already broke up, so I can’t really answer your question.”

The moment the words left my mouth, the air froze.

Several people gave me sympathetic looks while a few closer colleagues joked about introducing me to new guys.

Smiling, I pulled out my phone and agreed. “Sure. Send me their profiles.”

But suddenly, Sean’s glass hit the floor and shattered. Glass shards cut a few thin lines across his hand.

Even so, I only spared him a single glance, then looked away—no longer rushing to fuss over him like I used to.

After that, the mood at the table turned strange. The dinner that started cheerfully ended abruptly and awkwardly.

I also declined the conveniently arranged plan to ride back with Sean, shaking the phone showing my booked ride. Then I went home alone.

I had barely started to wind down when the front door suddenly swung open.

Sean then walked in, reeking of alcohol, and pinned me against the door. His kiss was rough and possessive, his hands urgent as if he couldn’t wait another second.

But my back slammed against the doorknob, and a sharp pain shot up my spine. I jolted in pain and instinctively slapped him across the face.

“Sean, what do you think I am?”

After a moment of daze, he slammed the door and stormed out.

In the five years we’d been together, we had never had this kind of silent war. Maybe that was why, now that I’d finally stopped playing along, he didn’t bother pretending to care anymore.

After everything that had happened, he had me reassigned to oversee a construction site on the north side of the city.

When the news spread, my coworkers were furious on my behalf, as it was a rework job that wasn’t properly done the first time and now had to be redone for free. As such, the workers there were full of resentment.

During the day, rocks rained down from higher floors and nails stuck out everywhere. At night, there were endless calls demanding someone come onsite, and those who went always encountered something eerie or unsettling.

Three male colleagues had already failed to last there. One ended up in the psychiatric ward, two in the hospital. Women didn’t even get considered for the assignment.

Back then, when the men constantly complained to him in the middle of the night, he was exhausted from handling the chaos.

I had once joked, “If you ever get mad at someone, just stick them at Northside. And if we ever have a fight, I’ll just go there myself. Out of sight, out of mind.”

He tapped my head and said it would never happen. “Even if we argue, I’d never send you somewhere that dangerous.”

But in the end, he sent me anyway.

I packed up my cubicle fast—clean, organized, like I wasn’t coming back.

Henry, as the project lead, personally drove me to the site.

On the way, he hesitated for a long time before finally speaking.

“Eliza, I know you and Mr. Thompson had some conflict about the promotion. I don’t know why he insisted on sending you to the site, but it really isn’t safe for a woman. Maybe… talk to him? Try to sort it out.”

Only after I got confirmation that my Friday night plane ticket was issued did I relax.

“It’s fine, Mr. Clarke,” I said lightly. “The promotion doesn’t matter to me. The location doesn’t matter either. It’s all the same.”

Those words of mine left him speechless. After looking at me puzzlingly, he could just look away.

Of course, I was scared. But I was only staying three days. After that, none of this would have anything to do with me.

Winter daylight faded quickly.

The previous staff had been allowed to leave before dark. But I had to clock in and out at normal hours.

I figured the workers wouldn’t pull anything outrageous on the first day. So, right on time, I checked out for the night.

Eliza's POV

On the first night, as soon as the clock hit quitting time, I bolted.

The path leading out of the building was a narrow trail with no streetlights. Everyone said it was the most dangerous spot as vagrants and creeps liked to wander there.

Even though I moved fast and stayed alert, I still jumped when a naked man suddenly lunged out of the dark with a twisted grin.

“Hey, sweetheart. You’re pretty cute.”

I fell back onto the ground, scrambling away from him. When he stepped closer, I happened to grab a broken wooden board with nails sticking out and slammed it into him.

He yelped in pain, and I took that chance to roll to my feet and run for my life.

My hand was bleeding from the nail cuts, and for some reason, my phone wouldn’t unlock. Trembling, I pressed the power button five times, triggering the emergency call.

I tried it twice, but the number tied to my emergency contact, which was Sean's, just kept ringing with no answer.

Behind me, footsteps and curses grew closer.

I tried to run faster, but I twisted my ankle in panic. My phone slipped from my hand and clattered onto the ground. Even so, I didn’t dare turn back.

Instead, I sprinted until I burst out of the dark path and into the streetlights. Under the safety of the glow, I flagged a car with my bloodied hands and headed straight to the police station.

When the officers took me back to retrieve my phone, it finally lit up, and Sean was calling back.

Through the noise of a crowded, lively place, his impatient voice came through.

“You called? I didn’t hear it earlier. What’s up?”

Then, I heard Yvette’s voice right beside him. “Sean, stop calling. Come sing with me!”

I bit my lip hard, unable to say a single word.

But then, my thumb slipped, and my screen opened to my social feed—right on the video Yvette had posted just five minutes earlier, where she and Sean were singing a love duet.

In that moment, I realized that, except for life and death, love meant nothing in my world anymore.

After hearing what happened, my landlady stayed with me that night.

By Friday afternoon, HR notified me to come in and sign the termination papers.

But as I arrived, I ran right into Sean and Yvette making weekend plans together.

Yet, I didn’t acknowledge them and walked past.

Third Person's POV

Unbeknownst to Eliza, Sean noticed the bandages on her hand, and he frowned. Something in him sensed something was off. He was just about to ask when Yvette began talking about her father again, so he reluctantly pulled his attention back to her.

Still, he secretly planned to take Eliza to dinner later and ask about her situation. He’d even agree to meet her parents. Knowing her, she always softened eventually and never stayed angry long.

The whole afternoon, he felt strangely excited. He even left work early to buy a bouquet of pretty flowers.

Right before the end of the workday, he parked his car at the construction site gate to wait for Eliza.

Soon, the building lights went out, but for a long time, no one came out.

Finally, a few figures walked through the doors. But when he looked carefully, he realized it wasn’t just her—two men were walking beside her.

He frowned and nearly got out of the car to ask what was going on. But reason held him back. No one could know about their relationship—not yet.

After struggling with himself for a long moment, he finally sent a message.

[I’m in the car across the street. I booked dinner for us. We need to talk.]

[About us.]

Eliza's POV

But the time Sean's message came in, I was already checking into the airport, escorted by the security team I had hired.

When I read the words “about us,” I couldn’t help but laugh.

I was about to respond when the boarding announcement echoed overhead.

Forget it. Everything between us ended here.

While running toward the gate, I just sent him one last message.

[I hope you find someone good soon. Goodbye.]

Then I deleted his number and blocked him. And as I stepped onto the jet bridge, I pulled out my SIM card for this city and threw it away.

Seven years of chasing love stopped right there.

Sean, from this moment on, you and I have nothing left to do with each other.