CHANCES

BOOK 4

For weeks she made sure to avoid Justin as much as she could but faith had other plans.

She once again stared at the spreadsheet on her screen, the numbers blurring into a single, relentless line. The quarterly presentation was in an hour, and the room was already buzzing with the low hum of colleagues checking emails and the occasional clatter of keyboards. She hadn’t expected to see Justin Lance again after the disastrous lunch Years ago, when she’d let his father's word get into her head and told him, in a voice that cut sharper than she intended, that he was “too clive, always chasing approval, and that she’d never be able to rely on him.” He’d left the table without a word, and the silence that followed had settled into the space between them like a permanent fixture.she remembered very much the pain she saw hidden in his eyes.

The conference door swung open, and Justin stepped in, his briefcase thumping against the polished floor. He was dressed in his usual crisp navy suit, but his jaw was set, and his eyes flicked to Amelia with a coldness that made her pulse quicken. He walked straight to the projector, set his laptop down, and turned to face the room, his voice flat as he began the briefing. When the slide changed to a graph that highlighted a mistake Amelia had made, he paused, looked directly at her, and said, “Well, at least someone here knows how to keep the numbers honest—unlike some people who think they can wing it and expect everyone else to clean up the mess.”

The comment hit the room like a dropped glass. A few heads turned, and Amelia felt the heat rise to her cheeks. She forced a tight smile, but inside she felt the familiar sting of shame. When the meeting finally ended, she lingered, gathering her notes, hoping to catch Justin for a moment alone.

He was already at his desk, packing his things. As she approached, he didn’t look up.

“Justin, can we talk?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper.

He finally met her gaze, and the anger that had simmered beneath his composure erupted. “Talk? You want to talk after you spent the whole morning tearing me apart in front of everyone? You think you’re so perfect, Amelia? You’re just a bully who hides behind spreadsheets and thinks that makes you untouchable.” He slammed his laptop shut, the sound echoing in the quiet office. “You’re the one who’s always playing the victim, but you’re the one who can’t handle a little criticism. Maybe you should learn to take it before you keep handing out your own brand of ‘hurtful words.’”

Amelia’s breath caught. The words were a mirror she didn’t want to see, and each syllable felt like a physical blow. She tried to steady herself, but a single tear escaped, tracing a path down her cheek before she could wipe it away.

“Justin—” she began, but he cut her off, his voice low and venomous.

“Save it. I’m done. I’m not going to keep pretending everything’s fine while you keep tearing people down to feel better about yourself.” He grabbed his coat, slamming the office door behind him.

The room fell silent except for the soft whir of the air conditioner. Amelia sank into her chair, the weight of his accusations pressing down on her chest. She pressed her hand to her face, the tears now flowing freely, and let the quiet of the empty office swallow the sound of her sobs. The spreadsheet on her screen remained unchanged, but the crack in her confidence felt irreparable.she knew deep down she deserved it she knew he was only mad at her The conference room emptied, the last of the colleagues filing out with polite nods. Amelia lingered at the table, the echo of Justin’s accusation still ringing in her ears. She gathered her notebook, the pages fluttering like nervous birds, and headed back to her desk.

Justin was already there, his suit jacket draped over the back of his chair, his laptop closed with a decisive snap. He didn’t look up when she approached; his shoulders were rigid, his jaw clenched tight.

“Justin,” Amelia began, voice barely above a whisper, “can we talk?”

He finally turned, eyes flashing with a cold fury that made her breath catch. “Talk?” he spat, the word dripping with contempt. “You think a quick apology will erase what you said? You called me ‘too needy’ in front of everyone. You made me look like a joke.”

Amelia’s throat tightened. “I— I didn’t mean—”

“Didn’t mean?” he cut in, sharply. “You meant every single word. You’ve always been good at hiding behind a smile while you tear people down. It’s what you do, Amelia. You think you’re so perfect, but you’re just a bully in a blouse.”

The words hit like a slap. Amelia’s eyes widened, and a hot tear escaped, tracing a path down her cheek. She tried to steady herself, but the sting of his anger was relentless.

“Why are you still here?” she managed, voice trembling. “Why can’t you just… leave me alone?”

Justin’s nostrils flared. “Because I’m not done. I want you to hear exactly what you’ve done. You think you’re the victim, but you’re the one who shattered any chance of us being… anything. You’re poison, Amelia. And I’m done trying to fix you.”

He slammed his laptop shut, the sound reverberating through the quiet office. Grabbing his coat, he stalked toward the exit, his footsteps echoing off the polished floor.

Amelia stood frozen, the weight of his venom pressing down on her chest. She pressed a hand to her face, the tears now flowing freely, each sob a raw, aching reminder of the love that had curdled into hatred. The office lights flickered overhead, indifferent to the storm of emotions that had just erupted.

She sank into her chair, the cold metal biting into her skin, and let the tears fall—silent, relentless, and utterly alone.although he had repeated some words it still hurt ,she wanted things to go back to when they were inseparable,when he looked at her with so much love and longing in his eyes.The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, their steady hum the only sound besides the soft click of the elevator doors closing behind Justin. Amelia sat at her desk, hands clasped around a cold coffee mug, the steam long since evaporated. The sting of his words lingered in the air, each syllable a small, sharp echo that refused to fade.

She didn’t notice the soft rustle of the office curtains until a figure slipped into the aisle—a colleague from another department, eyes downcast, clutching a stack of reports. He paused at Amelia’s desk, his expression a mixture of sympathy and hesitation.

“Amelia?” he asked gently, setting the papers down. “I heard what happened. I… I wanted to check if you’re okay.”

She forced a brittle smile, the corners of her mouth trembling. “I’m fine,” she whispered, though her voice cracked like thin ice. “Just… a rough day.”

He lingered a moment longer, then turned and walked away, leaving her alone with the weight of the silence.

Minutes stretched into an hour. The office emptied, the hum of the HVAC system becoming the backdrop to Amelia’s quiet sobs. She pressed her forehead against the cool metal of the desk, the tears soaking the edge of her notebook. The words Justin had hurled—_you’re poison_—replayed on a loop, each repetition a fresh wound.

A sudden, sharp rap on the glass door startled her. She looked up to see Justin standing in the doorway, his coat still draped over his arm, his eyes still burning with anger. He didn’t step inside; he simply stared, as if measuring whether to stay or leave.

“Why are you still here?” Amelia managed, voice hoarse.

He took a breath, the anger in his chest wipping like a storm that refused to subside. “Because I’m not done,” he said, voice low and edged. “You think you can just walk away after what you said? You think you can cry and make this all disappear?”

She swallowed, the taste of salt thick on her tongue. “I… I didn’t mean—”

“Didn’t mean?” he cut in, stepping forward, the heel of his shoe echoing on the polished floor. “You meant every word. You meant to cut me down in front of everyone, to make me feel small. You think you’re the only one who’s hurt? You’ve been hurting me for months, Amelia, and I’m tired of it.”

His words struck her like a physical blow, and a fresh wave of tears spilled over. She pressed a hand to her mouth, trying to stifle the sobs, but they escaped in ragged bursts.

Justin’s shoulders slumped for a fraction of a second, the anger flickering with something else—pain, maybe a flicker of regret—but it was quickly masked by the cold resolve that had carried him to the door.

“Fine,” he said, voice flat. “If you want to keep pretending this is just a misunderstanding, go ahead. I’m done trying to fix something that was broken the moment you decided to break it.”

He turned, his coat swinging, and walked toward the elevator. The doors opened, swallowing him whole. As they closed, the soft chime sounded like a final punctuation to a conversation that had never truly begun.

Amelia sank back into her chair, the room suddenly too large, the fluorescent lights too bright. She stared at the empty space where he had stood, the echo of his footsteps fading into the hallway. The tears continued, silent and relentless, each one a reminder that some wounds, once opened, don’t heal with a simple apology.

She reached for her phone, fingers trembling, and typed a message she knew she might never send: _I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you._

She stared at the screen, the cursor blinking, waiting for a response that would never come. The office clock ticked on, marking the passage of time that felt both endless and fleeting. In the stillness, Amelia realized that sometimes the hardest part of a breakup isn’t the words spoken in anger, but the quiet that follows—when the only thing left to do is sit with the pain and let it run its course.