Then I tossed it into the trash.
Three years of deluded love went with it.
When I turned around, I walked straight into a solid chest.
I looked up and froze.
Les was standing in the doorway—no telling how long he'd been there. His face was dark, his gaze dropping to the ring in the trash, then to the burn on my hand, and whatever shifted behind his eyes, he didn't let it settle into anything I could name.
"You're back." His voice came out dry, almost rough.
I ignored him and stepped sideways to leave.
"Madge, stop." He grabbed my wrist, grip tight enough to hurt. "We need to talk."
"There's nothing to talk about." I wrenched free. "I already made the breakup perfectly clear."
"So what, one conference? A couple missed calls? And you have to turn it into this whole thing and insist on breaking up?"
Les frowned, still wearing that same look of lofty condescension:
"I can apologize. I'll spend more time with you from now on. Just stop throwing a fit."
I almost laughed.
"Les, do you honestly still not know what you did wrong?"
"You stole my spot—that's not nothing. You locked me in the apartment—that's not nothing. While I was nearly burning to death, you were celebrating someone else's birthday—that's not nothing. And you went around telling people she was your lover—that's even less than nothing."
"All of that, and you think I'm the one making too much of it?"
He had nothing to say. The color drained from his face, then flushed back in patches.
"That was just... a lapse in judgment. Michelle's like a sister to me."
"A sister you'd hand my spot to? A sister you'd introduce as your lover?"
I let out a cold laugh. "Les, you are unbelievably selfish. You only ever care about yourself and whoever you feel like protecting. My feelings, my career, whether I live or die—none of it means a thing to you."
"That's not true!" His voice dropped to a raw growl. "You matter to me!"
"Your love is cheap." I looked at him, my gaze perfectly still. "I don't want it anymore. Don't come looking for me again. We're done."
I stepped around him and walked away.
Les stood rooted to the spot, watching me go, and for the first time, real panic cracked through that composure. He was only now realizing that this time, I wasn't coming back.
The day of the selection review, I arrived at the designated location early.
The man seated at the head of the room wore a simple black shirt, his bearing cool and remote. Dustin Vance.
He looked younger than in his photos, and far more imposing. He was perfectly still, doing nothing but sitting there, yet the weight of him made it difficult to hold eye contact.
"Begin." His voice was low and pleasant, stripped of any extra emotion.
I steadied myself and began: research focus, results, future plans. Not a single tremor in my hands, not a hitch in my voice. Every word landed where I aimed it, and I held nothing back.
Dustin listened closely, occasionally making notes, occasionally glancing up at me. His gaze was deep and unreadable.
When the defense was over, he asked me several technical questions, all of them extremely difficult, all aimed straight at the core.
I kept my composure and answered every one.
A slight nod. He offered no verdict either way, just: "Go home and wait for the notification."
I bowed and left, but something in my gut told me with fierce certainty.
I stepped out of the review room and there was Les. He'd found out about the selection somehow and had been waiting, and the moment he saw me, he closed the distance.
"Madge, you applied for the Core Research Lab selection. Why didn't you tell me?"
"I don't owe you updates on my life."
