I didn't answer. Once I'd packed my things, I walked straight out of the office.
At the door, I nearly collided with Lola, who was coming back balancing a cup of coffee.
"Sis—future VP—will you still be coming in to work after this? Because if you're not, I won't bother tidying up your desk."
I gave her a cold look.
"I don't have a little sister like you. This is a company. Call me Vice President. Basic professional courtesy—did nobody ever teach you that?"
Lola's face went through a quick cycle of green and white. She'd just realized I was the one who'd answered her message the day before.
Something venomous flickered in her eyes, and then she simply flung the scalding coffee straight at me.
The hot liquid soaked into my blouse. The pain made me wince.
"Oh no, I'm so sorry, Vice President. My hand slipped."
She didn't bother to hide the taunt on her face.
My expression turned to ice.
A mistress climbing onto my head like this—who could stomach that?
"Smack—"
I raised my hand and slapped her across the face without a second's hesitation.
I'd been a doted-on only daughter my whole life. I'd never had to swallow anything.
The only place I'd ever stumbled was with Luke.
For him, I'd unlearned my spoiled temper, taught myself patience, taught myself to forgive.
I could write off the past nine years as loving the wrong man. A clean, civil parting should have been the most dignified ending.
But if someone insisted on stepping all over me, that didn't mean I was easy to bully.
Hearing the commotion, Luke came rushing out of his office. He pulled Lola behind him on instinct, his face dark as he rounded on me.
"Maya, what do you think you're doing? Is this workplace bullying?"
I almost laughed in his face. So now I was the one bullying people.
"Maybe you should ask her what she did first."
I dropped the words coldly and turned to leave.
After I left the company, I went straight home to pack and moved back to my father's house.
Chloe rushed over to help right away, but when she saw my luggage, she froze.
"You were with him for nine years and this is all you have? Luke's a boss now, for God's sake. He never bought you anything?"
"And what about that two-million-dollar dowry of yours?"
The suitcase held only a few changes of clothes and my important documents.
Plain to the point of being pitiful.
I said nothing.
Luke was a textbook engineer—no sense for romance. He never sent flowers, never bought me dresses or makeup.
On holidays, though, he would send me a few thousand dollars in a red envelope.
As for the two million I'd brought as a dowry, he had actually kept his promise and signed half the company's shares over to me.
It was just that all these years, the money had stayed tied up in the business. Afraid of slowing the company's growth, I'd never once brought up dividends.
At the end of the day, I was the company's other owner in name only.
In practice, apart from the occasional red envelope from Luke, I'd taken almost nothing out of that company.
I'd never seen the problem before. I always figured I had no head for business, no talent for management.
Owning half a company without lifting a finger already seemed like more than enough. But looking back now, I could finally see how naive I'd been.
In the end, it seemed I'd walked away with nothing.
Meanwhile Luke could casually buy his mistress a YSL lipstick as a little gift.
Chloe touched my cheek, her heart breaking for me.
"Nine years of your youth. You really have no regrets?"
Regrets?
Of course I did.
Nine years of standing by him, of giving everything, had only made me cling harder to the idea of marrying Luke.
I wanted a home with him. I wanted a child that belonged to the two of us.
But however staggering the sunk cost, I was choosing to let it go.
Because he was filthy now.
Just then, a sharp pain tore through my lower belly. The color drained from my face, and I doubled over, retching, one hand pressed to my stomach.
Chloe shot to her feet, terrified.
"Maya! Don't tell me you're pregnant. Does Luke know?"
I shook my head. My voice came out badly hoarse.
"I've scheduled the procedure for tomorrow. This child—I'm not keeping it."
Chloe's eyes went red in an instant. Her mouth opened as if to talk me out of it.
But in the end she just pulled me into a fierce hug.
"Your mom may be gone, but you still have us. Your dad's been working overseas all these years and couldn't be here for you, but there's no way he'd ever want to see you put through something like this."
"A child should be born into a family that wants it, that loves it."
Her words snuffed out the last flicker of hesitation in me.
For nine years I'd imagined that child's arrival more times than I could count. But I wouldn't let it have a traitor for a father.
The next day, Chloe came with me to the hospital.
After the procedure, I sat in the recovery room, opened my email, and sent my résumé to that Canadian firm I'd longed to join for so long.
For Luke's sake, I'd locked myself at his side for nine years.
Loving him, loving his career, loving everything that was his.
From now on, I only wanted to love myself, to live for myself.
But when I got back to the front door, I found that Luke had shown up at some point.
He was crouched outside, like a big dog someone had abandoned.
Every time we used to fight and I ran home, he would wait at this door exactly like this.
And I always softened the moment he made himself small.
But seeing the same scene now, all I felt was disgust.
The instant he saw me, Luke jumped up and grabbed my hand.
"Maya, I got home and saw all your stuff was gone, so I knew you'd come back here."
"Didn't I tell you the day I proposed? Throw your tantrums if you have to, but stop running back to your parents' place over every little thing."
"If your dad found out, he'd think I was mistreating you. We're about to get married—how are you still this childish?"
"This is all because Lola took your desk, isn't it? I've already had her moved to a different seat."
At first there was urgency in his voice, but by the end it had curdled into something closer to blame.
I suddenly thought of all ten times I'd brought up breaking up, pushing him toward marriage. The truth was, more than once, I had genuinely wanted to leave.
Because over the years Luke had only gotten busier. He forgot my birthday. He forgot our anniversary.
But after every fight, he would apologize so earnestly, swearing he'd never do it again.
And I always softened because I loved him, because I didn't have the courage to walk away for good.
After all, what lay between us was a full nine years.
Not nine days. Not nine weeks. Not nine months.
But the nine years that carried me from girl to woman, the loneliest nine years after I lost my mother, the nine years of stumbling and growing up in a strange city.
And the nine years I was most afraid of being left behind.
But now Luke had crossed the one line I had, with his own hands. Again and again I told myself: stop leaning on him.
Looking at him in this moment, all that was left in me was nausea, a sick churn in my gut.
I didn't want to waste my breath on him, but Luke assumed my anger had blown over.
He reached up and ruffled my hair, smiling as he coaxed me.
"All right, enough sulking. Come on—haven't you always wanted to try on wedding dresses? I've got time today. Let's go look at gowns."
