My Life Stops Waiting For You

The day of the departmental competition, the conference room erupted in applause. I'd spent two weeks building that project model, but the name on the final slide was Sophie Sullivan. She stood up, eyes glistening, voice catching in her throat. "Thank you for believing in me, Mr. Grant." Jason Grant sat at the head of the table, unmistakable warmth in his eyes. "You deserve it." After the meeting, he called me into his office. The first thing out of his mouth wasn't an explanation. It was a reprimand. "Sophie just went through a divorce. She's in a really rough place, and this promotion means a lot to her. You're talented. Other opportunities will come. Don't make this into a fight." I stared at the matching mugs on his desk. I'd given them to him as an anniversary gift last year. The other mug was in Sophie's hands now. There was a faint lipstick mark on the rim. I nodded, turned around, and placed my resignation letter on his desk. This time, I was done being someone's stepping stone. The letter lay on his desk. Jason studied it for a few seconds. "Serena Shaw, are you threatening me with your resignation?" I unclipped my employee badge and set it down in front of him. The plastic made a quiet click against the desk. It was enough to freeze the smirk on his face. "You're not thinking clearly right now. Go take a walk. Come back this afternoon and hand over the files to Sophie." The business model I'd built over half a month, through multiple all-nighters. He'd swapped my name out for Sophie's. And now he wanted me to hand over the underlying data and every calculation behind it. Like I was nothing but a convenient stepping stone between the two of them. "Mr. Grant, I'm not asking." I pushed the letter toward him. "I'm telling you." Something darkened behind his eyes. After four years together, the one thing he hated most was when I called him Mr. Grant in private. He used to pinch my cheek and tease me, "Oh, so formal now? I'll deal with that when we get home." Back then, it felt sweet. Now I finally understood. The one who never knew how to separate work from personal was never me. It was him. Jason's expression went cold. "We just announced Sophie's promotion. If you resign now, what do you think people will say?" "That's your problem." I took out the handover list I'd prepared in advance. "Client files have been archived per protocol. Project source files are on the company drive. Access will be transferred to the Operations Director. Not to Sophie." Jason's expression changed instantly. "She's the project manager now. If you don't hand over the files, how is the project supposed to move forward?" "If the proposal was hers to begin with," I said evenly, "she should know how to move it forward." Footsteps sounded in the hallway. Sophie came in clutching a folder. She spotted the resignation letter on the desk, and her eyes went red almost immediately. "Serena, please tell me you're not resigning because of my promotion." She turned to Jason. "Mr. Grant, I can give up the position. I really don't want to come between you and Serena." Jason's tone softened at once. "This has nothing to do with you." Sophie looked back at me. "Serena, I know I don't have your experience, but I'm willing to learn. Can't you please stay? Everyone in this office knows you're Mr. Grant's girlfriend. If you just walk out, people are going to say I took something from you." I smiled. "Didn't you?" Sophie went pale. "Watch your mouth, Serena Shaw," Jason said quietly. I didn't look at him. I looked at Sophie instead. "If something can be taken that easily, I don't want it anymore." I turned and walked to the door. Jason called after me. "Serena, if you walk out that door today, don't come crying to me." I stopped. I turned back and looked at him. "Word for word, I'm returning that to you." The walls were thin. Back at my desk, every pair of eyes in the office found a reason to sneak a glance at me. Some looked sympathetic. Others were enjoying the show. Most were pretending to be busy, but every ear was turned in my direction. I started packing. A notebook, an old water bottle, a pothos that was barely hanging on. And a box of antacids in the drawer, the ones I'd always kept on hand for Jason. He had too many business dinners, and his stomach couldn't handle the rich food. No matter how late it got, the moment he said his stomach was acting up, I'd get up to make him soup, mix his medicine, and sit with him until morning. Then last month, I ended up hospitalized with a stomach bleed. He said on the phone, "Sophie's ex is camped outside her building. She needs me more right now." I checked myself in alone and handled all the paperwork alone. In the early hours of the morning, I saw Sophie post on i********:. In the photo, Jason was sitting beside her, a hot drink in his hands. The caption read: At least someone's always here. He was always there. Just never for me. I took the antacids out of the drawer and dropped them in the trash. Linda from HR came to find me, looking apologetic. "Serena, Mr. Grant says he's putting a hold on your resignation. You're sitting on a core project. He needs at least a month for the handover." I smiled. "Per my contract, thirty days' written notice is all that's required. His approval isn't needed. "As for the core project... "As of today, it's not my project anymore."