Not Anymore

Wasted

"Sir! Where have you been?" A curious employee approached him as soon as he stepped outside. "We were worried. The boss was furious."

This was Walmar, a company owned by Irene Walters.

The Walters family ranked among the most powerful in the city, but despite this advantage, Irene had built this company from scratch. She wanted to prove her capabilities as soon as she finished college.

It was her lifelong dream.

Chris served as her secretary and had stayed by her side longer than anyone else.

Throughout the entire process of building the company from nothing, he had been with her every step of the way.

Many employees thought they were related, but a revelation a year ago shifted that belief.

Now everyone wondered what was really going on between the two.

As the oldest employee in the company, Chris had become its backbone.

He handled major activities, leaving her ample time to relax without overworking herself.

The strangest thing was that he never complained, not even once.

He executed her instructions to the best of his abilities, no matter how difficult or impossible the task seemed.

Everyone in the company respected him, seeing him as their true leader, even if they never said it aloud.

He understood their needs and worked to ensure everyone felt satisfied and well compensated.

But at the end of the day, he was just another employee.

"I just got held up," Chris said, his voice tinged with frustration.

"Well, you know how she is," the lady trailed off, her expression a mix of sympathy and resignation.

"It's okay. You shouldn't talk behind your boss's back; just get back to work." He casually dismissed her, turning on his heel and heading in the opposite direction, eager to put the conversation behind him.

The woman watched him leave, her brow furrowing as he disappeared. Shaking her head, she let out a soft sigh. "He's such a nice person. It's such a shame he's so unlucky," she mumbled under her breath before returning to her work bay, where stacks of paperwork awaited her attention.

Chris strode into the restroom, where fluorescent lights flickered overhead, and leaned heavily over a sink. He bowed his head, his shoulders slumping as exhaustion weighed on him like a heavy blanket. The chaos of the day had drained him, but before he could collect his thoughts or catch his breath, his phone chimed in his pocket.

"What now?" he grumbled lazily, reaching for the device with a reluctant hand. As his eyes fell on the message, a weary curse slipped from his lips.

"I need you to arrange a welcome party ASAP, no delays, before the evening. Don't let me down." The sender: Boss.

Chris pinched the bridge of his nose, battling a wave of frustration. Another task added to his already overwhelming to-do list. With a resigned sigh, he straightened up. As he mentally mapped out the logistics for the party, he tried to ignore the gnawing sense of fatigue that lingered in the back of his mind.

It was just ten o'clock in the morning, yet Chris felt as though he had been hauling sacks of grain through the night. Weariness clung to him like a heavy shroud, making every movement feel laborious. With a deep sigh, he glanced out the window, where the bright morning sun contrasted sharply with the storm brewing within him.

A stern, almost bitter expression clouded his face as thoughts of the impending confrontation filled his mind. "It's him again," he gritted through clenched teeth, his fists tightening in frustration.

"Why is it always about him?" he mumbled under his breath, grappling with a mix of anger and helplessness. The weight of his emotions pressed down harder, and he couldn't contain the voice rising within him. A frustrated yell escaped, echoing through the quiet room.

"Whyyyyyyy!" The word stretched out as if it carried all the pent-up frustration and anger he had been keeping bottled up.

"Hello, is someone inside?" An unfamiliar voice from the other side of the door broke his moment.

He pulled himself off the sink and turned around. "It's okay," he called out.

He opened the faucet as the sound of running water drowned out the frustration still alive in him.

The click of a doorknob being twisted sounded, followed by the screech of a door opening.

A figure slowly walked inside. Chris's eyes briskly flashed to the man, and he realized with conviction he had never seen him before.

"Are you okay?" the man, who appeared to be about the same age as him, asked. He had quite a sharp demeanor, exuding an air of confidence that felt almost palpable in the room. Standing at an average height, neither too short nor too tall, he was built in a way that suggested agility rather than strength. His clothes were casual—simple jeans and a fitted shirt—but there was something about the way he carried himself that set him apart from the rest.

His eyes were striking, sharply cut and keenly observant, almost as if they could pierce through any facade. In the midst of his relaxed outer appearance, those eyes told a different story. They were calculating and intensely focused, hinting at a mind that held secrets and insights others might miss. Despite the casualness of his tone and demeanor, Chris couldn't shake off the feeling that this man was more of a mystery than he appeared, and that made him even more cautious. There was a weight to that gaze, a sharpness that suggested he was always processing, evaluating, seeing the world through a lens of clarity that contrasted sharply with the uncertainty Chris felt inside.

"You must be new here?" Chris suggested, drying his hands.

The man nodded.

"Yes, I am."

"I'm Celdric, by the way. Celdric Shogun," he said with conviction.

Chris flashed a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"My name is Chris. I—" he started, but the man cut him off.

"I know. The famous Chris Eaton, the genius behind Walmar," he said, a genuine smile on his face.

Chris's eyes widened with interest.

"Okay? That's just an exaggeration. I just assist the boss," he said.

The young man laughed, his laughter coming out crisp.

"Only a fool would say so," the man said as he turned toward the other side.

"Okay! Thanks for the compliment. See you around," Chris said, preparing to leave.

"See you around, too, boss," Celdric said.

Chris hesitated before walking off.

"What a peculiar guy," he thought as he walked away.

As he walked toward the company conference hall, his phone rang, and upon seeing the familiar name displayed on his caller ID, he smiled, his mood uplifted all of a sudden before swiping to accept the call.

A gentle female voice sounded through the earpiece.

"Son, have you decided to abandon your mother forever?"

Chris chuckled, the sound anxious and calm at the same time.

"No, Mom. I'm just too busy," he said.

"Humph! Busy, busy, busy. Don't you ever rest?" she snapped.

"It's not like that, Mom. Irene—" Before he could even finish his statement, she cut him off.

"Oh, it's her again. Every day, every week, every year, it's Irene, Irene, and Irene. Son, did I raise you to be such—" She didn't finish her statement.

Chris stopped, the weight of his mother's words cutting through his heart like a hot blade.

"Mom, I just can't leave yet. She still needs my help. Maybe... maybe there's some hope for us?" he stammered, but even he struggled to believe his words.

"Don't lie to me, son. I gave birth to you. I know you inside and out, son," her voice cracked, not out of sorrow but unbridled fury. "I'm not stupid. You think I haven't heard about it too? Her first flame is back. You just ruined and wasted your life for nothing. It's time. It's time you need to let go." The last words were heavy with meaning and emotion.

Chris didn't answer. Even he didn't know what he was supposed to do, and for the first time in a long while, he listened to his mother's words.

"Okay, Mom. I understand, and I'm going to come back home soon. But before I do, I need to ensure I'll never regret my decision. So I'll give it ten more chances. If she doesn't appreciate my efforts after all these years, I'll leave her forever, till eternity," he spoke, his words and conviction steeled.

"That's my boy. Just come home soon. We're all worried about you," she said, the relief in her voice clearly evident.

"I love you, Mom," he said, tears creasing the sides of his eyelids.

"I love you too, son. Be safe," she said.

"I'll be hanging up now," he said.

"Goodbye, son," she said as the phone disconnected.

Chris remained there, rooted to the spot like a tree.

His mother's words struck a nerve, and the harsh reality came crashing down on him with overwhelming force. For the first time, he began to doubt and regret his past choices. If I hadn't made those decisions in the past, would I be better off than I am now? he questioned himself, grief and sorrow gripping him like a vice despite his best efforts to remain composed.

He walked away, his shoulders slightly hunched as if carrying the weight of his tasks. The tension in his frame spoke of a mix of determination and resignation. With each step, his posture conveyed a sense of purpose, though there was an undercurrent of fatigue.

He moved forward, hands stuffed deep into his pockets, partly to hide the restlessness that seemed to seep from him. The gentle sway of his shoulders mirrored his conflicting emotions—driven yet weary. He stole a quick glance back, then shifted his focus ahead, ready to tackle whatever came next, pushing through the exhaustion that tugged at him.