ALEX.
The text heading attached to the document glowed boldly across my screen.
Termination of Contract.
At first, I was surprised. I wasn’t even angry or shocked. It just felt like someone had told me it was raining when I could clearly see the sun outside. I read the lines again, slowly, as if the words might rearrange themselves if I stared long enough.
They didn’t.
I made no reaction and gave none. I just felt numb.
“Oh,” I whispered to no one. “So that’s it.”
I signed it virtually with a steady hand that didn’t feel like mine. The confirmation pinged softly, polite and indifferent. Contract terminated. End of agreement. My job here was done.
It was the end of us.
I stood up and tucked my phone into my pocket, my legs moving on their own. The sitting room felt too large, too
