"Holy shit!"

"Ray, what's wrong--"

"Val, get back in the car! Nothing happened tonight!"

The memory kept replaying in my mind, the night I lost my two-week-old baby and shattered bones in my body. The driver of the car was none other than my baby’s father, Raymond Forge. Anger simmered, deepening into silent hatred as I learned the truth that night: he’d been out for dinner with his beloved self-appointed assistant, Val.

My Ray of Light: [Get back as soon as the doctor discharges you. I need you to oversee a proposal draft. I’ve paid the hospital bills.]

That was the last text Raymond sent, after a long lecture about 'me' getting into an accident.

He never came to the hospital.

He didn’t even know the woman he hit was me.

He didn’t know he’d killed his own child.

‘My Ray of Light'. How foolish I was to think he’d ever change, that he’d ever truly love me.

*

The night I returned to the usually empty apartment I’d shared with Raymond for the last five years, I had to laugh at the sight of a giant bra cup tossed on the couch. Definitely not mine—and easy enough to guess it belonged to a certain Val.

I threw it into the trash can in the bedroom, then carefully sat on the edge of the bed, mindful of my broken arm in its sling.

“Mr. Phoenix, forgive me for calling so late. I’ve made up my mind to accept your company’s offer,” I said once my call connected.

“Yes! When will you be joining us, Purple Hat?” he paused, then chuckled. “And please, call me Jake—like old times. No need to be so formal.”

“You knew?” I narrowed my eyes at the name. I had expected him to find out.

I only heard laughter from the other hand of the phone.

“Anyway,” A small smile crept onto my face. “I’ll be moving to Bergcastle in about a week, Jake. I’ll start by the fifth of next month.”

“Noted! I’ll send over a contract. And if you need any help with the move, just give me a call, okay?” With that, Jake ended the call.

Just seconds later, I heard footsteps approaching. The slightly ajar door nudged open, and Raymond stepped in, phone in hand, his attention glued to the screen.

“Oh, you’re back already,” he said, finally noticing me. His eyes stayed on the screen, his smile unmistakable—a dead giveaway he was texting Val.

“Who were you on the phone with?” he asked, not bothering to look up from his screen.

“Mr. Phoenix,” I replied plainly, with no attempt to hide anything.

“I see.” He stepped further in, removing his tie and jacket, still half-absorbed in whatever was on his phone, then headed toward the bathroom.

I exhaled slowly, feeling a mix of disappointment and relief. He hadn’t heard a word I’d said—because if he had, he’d have caught that I was talking to the Phoenix, CEO of his rival company. He hadn’t even asked about the cast and sling on my left arm. But for the first time, his indifference felt like a kind of freedom, strengthening my resolve to leave him.

Just then, Raymond poked his head out from the bathroom door, frowning. “Where’s my towel and bathrobe?”

I guessed he was irritated because I usually had them laid out before he got home. But before I could respond, his ringtone chimed from inside the bathroom, and his frown softened, a flicker of excitement lighting up his face.

“Never mind. I’ll find them myself,” he said, disappearing back inside. He hurried to the shelf beside the bathroom, grabbing what he needed in a rush.

I shrugged and turned my attention to my phone, drafting my resignation letter.

Time passed. The clock on my phone read 2:15 a.m. by the time I finished the draft, yet Raymond still hadn’t come out of the bathroom.

God knows what he was up to.

As I leaned back onto the bed, careful not to jostle my broken arm, I realized just how drained I felt. The scenes from the hospital replayed in my mind, as vivid as if I’d just hit "replay."

I remembered the moment Dr. Wayne broke the news about my miscarriage on my third day awake. He’d been so gentle, probably hoping a husband or family member would come by to support me. But since I hadn’t told my parents about the accident, and my boyfriend—not even a husband—never showed up, Dr. Wayne had to tell me directly.

The memory left me feeling hollow. Tonight, I didn’t cry, but the weight of losing my baby before it even had a chance to live was still crushing. Even as I scrolled through my secret Tattle account out of habit, the grief pressed down on me, relentless.

Just then, I spotted Raymond’s latest post: a picture of a table with wine glasses, half-empty plates, and a sparkling city view beyond the window.

[“Sorry for the last-minute change. Not quite fine dining, but I hope the wine dinner makes up for it. A sudden meeting came up, and I’d hate to let down my loyal assistant after promising dinner.”]

So that was why he’d spent all that time in the bathroom tonight.

My phone buzzed with a new notification—an email from Jacob Phoenix. I opened it and found a link to the digital contract at the bottom. Without hesitation, I clicked through and reviewed the terms, signing once I’d skimmed over them.

Jake had tailored the contract according to our previous conversation—to my surprise. I’d handle further negotiations about my working conditions once I crossed that bridge. Right now, my only priority was leaving Raymond’s company and freeing myself from all of...

this.

The next morning, after struggling through my shower, I noticed Raymond was nowhere in the room—a rare thing for him to be up so early. Hearing noise from the dining area, I didn’t bother calling his name.

Once I was dressed and ready to leave, my gaze drifted to the trash can. There was the bra I’d tossed in there yesterday. I paused, debating whether to bring it up. Finally, I bent down, picked it up without a second thought, and headed out.

On the dining table, a paper bag with the logo of a popular sandwich shop sat neatly waiting. Inside, a carefully wrapped sandwich caught my eye. But as soon as I reached for it, Raymond’s hand slapped mine away.

“That has shrimp in it. You’re allergic, right?”

I froze for a moment, realizing the sandwich wasn’t for me. It was for his precious assistant.

“Here, take mine.” He pushed another bag toward me. “It’s a tuna sandwich. I’m not that hungry anyway.”

That was it. The restraint I’d clung to since yesterday snapped. “I have no such allergies!” My voice cracked under the sting of being treated like an afterthought. “We’ve lived together for years, Raymond. You know I hate tuna. It’s fishy.”

He looked taken aback at first, but quickly shifted to annoyance. “It’s just a sandwich, Anne. Don’t eat it if you don’t like it. Simple.”

He stood abruptly, raising a hand to silence any further argument.

“Whatever,” he muttered. “It’s morning, and it’s going to be a long day. I’m out.” He grabbed the other sandwich bag, then moved to the kitchen island to collect his things—bag, phone, car keys.

“I was going to drive you to work, but clearly it’s better if we go separately to cool off. We need professionalism at the office, right? Can’t do that if we’re both angry.” His words dripped with sarcasm as he head towards the entrance door.

As expected. Fortunately, I had something in hand to get back at him.

“Raymond,” I called, stepping slightly in his way by the entrance. I held up the oversized bra cup and handed it to him. “Could you return this to Valentine? I noticed it was left in our bedroom yesterday.”

His eyes went wide, his mouth half-open as if he wanted to respond. For a moment, guilt flashed in his gaze as he searched my face.

But since I didn’t sound angry, he managed to recover, shrugging as he replied, “I’ll remind her to keep track of her things next time.”

“Sure,” I said with a nod.

I turned away, picking up my own bag and pulling out my phone to order an online cab.

“Hey, about the ride to the office today…” he started, a hint of hesitation in his voice.

“We’re going separately, remember?” I replied smoothly, a slight smile on my face. “You were right—we need to keep things professional. And look,” I added, showing him my phone screen, “my ride’s already on its way, just fifteen minutes.”

I moved to the shoe rack by the door, brushing past him without much interest.

“I’ll head out first. Can you lock up when you leave?” I said, slightly struggling to get my shoes on.

Without waiting for his reaction, I stepped out of the apartment as soon as my shoes felt secure and headed down to the lobby to wait for the cab I’d ordered.

Oddly enough, I felt at ease. Truly at ease.

It wasn’t as though Raymond had ever made a habit of driving me to work in all our years together—not even back in college. He’d always been the type who “likes to keep professional matters separate from personal ones.”

Right. Just like how he’d prioritized Valentine, chauffeuring her to work during her first week on the job.

My smile widened as I spotted my cab pulling up to the drop-off area.

Now that I thought about it, leaving for work on my own wasn’t so bad after all.

I rolled my shoulders, adjusting the sling to make it a bit more comfortable.

Hopefully, today’s work wouldn’t be too chaotic to handle.

I need to hold on for few more days until I my resignation letter got approved.

"Did you see Mr. Forge came in with Valentine today? If he really cared about Anne, wouldn’t he have made sure she wasn’t coming in alone? Her arm’s still broken, isn’t it?"

I paused just before stepping into the breakroom, my hand frozen on the door handle.

"Exactly!" another voice chimed in. "Everyone's talking about it. She’s really got her claws into the CEO, doesn’t she? Poor Anne. But can you blame her? After all, who’d let go of a CEO? Imagine the power—and the perks—that come from being so close to him."

At that, I pushed the door open, cutting their whispers short. The breakroom went silent.

Without a word, I walked to the water station, filled my bottle, and then left just as quietly as I'd entered.

*

"So this is where you've been hiding."

I looked up from my screen to see Raymond standing there, brows knit and lips twisted into a faint scowl.

Normally, I'd be full of apologies, stumbling over myself to explain why I hadn’t answered his messages because of my workload.

But tonight? I couldn’t bring myself to care about his irritation. My gaze drifted past him to the wall clock ticking its way to 10:10 PM. That explained why the office had grown so quiet.

"Why didn’t you respond to my messages?" Raymond pressed, his voice clipped with impatience.

I blinked, reaching into my purse to fish out my personal phone. Sure enough, his last message was waiting on the screen.

Mr. X: [You wouldn’t complain about getting a strawberry cupcake, right?]

Just then, he set down a small, pristine package from Smile Cake—the most sought-after bakery in town, a haven for sweets lovers.

Normally, I’d be overjoyed, but tonight, the gesture left me cold. I simply returned my attention to the monitor, ignoring the neatly wrapped box.

“What?” he asked, his voice now tinged with confusion and simmering irritation. "You used to beg me to get you one of these."

"Raymond, it’s past 6 PM," I said with a sigh, my fingers still tapping on the keyboard. "I told you—I don’t eat sweets at night. I’ll get a sugar rush and be up half the night."

Before he could protest, I added, “And wasn’t it you who told me to stop wanting ‘childish’ things like cupcakes?”

There was a pause. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him open his mouth, then close it, clearly taken aback

Maybe he hadn’t expected me to push back, or maybe he was struggling to brush off his own words from the past.

But before either of us could speak again, his phone buzzed. He answered it quickly, not even checking the screen.

“My God, Ray! Why did you send me THIS many cupcakes—” The voice was loud and unmistakable. Valentine.

Raymond hurriedly lowered the volume, stepping away from my cubicle, his expression caught somewhere between guilt and panic.

Before he disappeared around the corner, he turned back, mouthing, “Wait here. Go home with me.”

I rolled my eyes and returned to my screen, already tuning him out.

*

In the end, Raymond drove me home.

I didn’t wait for him to get out of the car—he was already absorbed in his phone, grinning like a fool at whatever was on the screen.

At this point, I didn’t need to guess who he was texting.

Once inside, I went straight to my bedroom, grabbed my suitcase, and began packing the essentials I’d take back to my hometown. With my injury, though, it was slow going; every movement took twice as long as I’d hoped.

“Anne!” Raymond’s voice startled me.

He appeared in the doorway, still smirking from whatever chat he’d been having on his phone. There was a beat of silence as he took in the scene, and then his smile disappeared, replaced by a look of irritation.

“What’s this?” he demanded, incredulous. “Are you seriously threatening to leave just because you were upset this morning?”

He didn’t stop there. “I was about to tell you I’ll be going on a business trip next month. I wanted to ask what you might want, and this is how you act?”

I looked up, meeting his gaze without a hint of hesitation. “Oh, you don't need to bother bringing me anything,” I replied calmly, tucking a lipstick into my suitcase. “Really, I'm fine.”

His offer meant nothing to me now. Soon, I’d be gone from this place anyway.

"I can’t believe you, Anne,” he muttered, a note of dismay in his voice. “You know how exhausting work is, and this is what I come home to?” He loosened his tie and tossed it onto the bed along with his suit jacket.