My arms stayed folded tightly across my chest as he came closer, lips tinted, collar wrinkled. He even had the nerve to flash a smile.
“What’s that on your neck?” I asked, my tone icy though deceptively calm.
Kieran blinked as if confused, then reached up to touch the side of his neck like he was only now noticing something. “Oh, that? Just a mosquito bite. I stepped out to the emergency stairs to get a bit of air and… well, you know how it goes.”
A mosquito? Really?
My eyes shifted to the distinct red blotches forming a trail on his skin—far too deliberate for an insect bite. Those weren’t random. They were hickeys. Deep, deliberate, unmistakable.
He wasn’t even trying to come up with a convincing lie.
Before I could say a word, he abruptly veered the conversation elsewhere.
“Anyway, we should get going. It’s probably not ideal for people to see us together too much around here. Office relationships are kind of frowned upon.”
I didn’t respond. Just gave a small nod.
He let out a breath, clearly mistaking my silence for compliance—or worse, forgiveness. “Let’s catch up later, yeah? Just you and me. A little date night.” He leaned in, kissed me on the cheek like everything was normal, then walked off, humming to himself.
I stayed where I was, staring at the space he’d just left, my skin tingling at the nape of my neck.
That afternoon, the conference room was packed. A high-level meeting was taking place—executives, senior employees, interns, even Averie, who had somehow managed to seat herself far too near Kieran.
Kieran, whose current position existed because of me.
Kieran, who genuinely believed he’d climbed this ladder alone. I found a seat at the far end of the room—out of the spotlight, but never out of play.
The lights dimmed. Kieran took center stage, clicker in hand, wearing that same smug air he always did. “Today, I’ll walk you through a marketing strategy designed to take our campaigns to the next level.”
I almost snorted. That “strategy” wasn’t his.
I remembered the nights at our old place—he’d be frustrated, drowning in data. I would be the one staying up late, putting the slides together, streamlining the reports, breaking complex charts into digestible talking points he could then present like a seasoned expert.
I convinced myself I was doing it out of love. That my help mattered. That it made him feel supported.
But that wasn’t love. It was him using me. And I had been too blind to see it.
I remembered that night clearly—the one when I overheard him talking to Averie. I had been in bed, pretending to be asleep.
“So, when are you going to break up with her?” Averie had asked, laughing like it was a joke.
“She’s still useful to me,” Kieran replied. “Once I land the promotion, I’ll dump her. She’s needy, but she’s a good asset for now. Don’t worry. I’m yours. The engagement’s just for show. She’s holding on to false hope.”
After the meeting, Kieran came rushing to me, practically buzzing with excitement.
“Babe, they ate it up,” he grinned. “You’re amazing, you know that? Actually, I need another small favor. There’s this pitch coming up—huge opportunity. Promotion-level big. Think you can work your magic again?”
I smiled at him gently. “Of course. I’ll handle it.”
He kissed the top of my head like I was his loyal secretary and strolled off like he owned the place.
That night, I sat alone, surrounded by scattered notes, sketches, and analytics, trying to will myself to finish the job—maybe just one final time.
Then I unlocked my phone and saw her.
Averie Hale. In a picture by the bay, the night sky bursting with fireworks behind her.
Her caption: “Unforgettable evening with my favorite person.”
Curious, I tapped on the video. She was laughing, twirling the camera around. And there he was—Kieran—smiling like he belonged there, drink in hand, standing right beside her.
My breath hitched. So that’s where he had been.
While I sat here piecing together his future, he was out basking in the glow of his lies.
I closed the laptop gently. I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream.
I simply sat in silence. Then I decided.
No more favors. No more justifying. No more pretending everything was okay.
The next morning, I didn’t show up at the office. I didn’t reply to texts. Gave no explanation. By lunchtime, Kieran had already called me seven times. By the late afternoon, the number had jumped to seventeen.
I stared at my screen as his name appeared again and again.
Then, without hesitation, I pressed block.
