“Well, Fiona, I hate to break it to you, but Sarah and I decided to make it official. We’re together now, and there’s no chance of you coming back into my life.”
Sarah chimed in, her voice sweet and smug
“Even if Ethan’s new business succeeds, it’s thanks to your parents‘ investment, so it has nothing to do with you.”
I just smiled, unbothered. None of it mattered to me anymore.
Just then, the door swung open, and a voice called out:
“Fiona? You’ve been gone a while. What’s taking so long?”
I turned toward the familiar voice and replied casually, “Just ran into an old friend. We were catching up.”
The man standing in the doorway was Nathan Sherman, a shareholder in this upscale club–and my fiance.
His family ran a nationwide travel business, with operations in nearly every major city.
After my divorce, I had started working for the Shermans company and slowly worked my way up. Nathan and I had always been like oil and water, constantly bickering, but over time, that dynamic turned into something deeper.
As for
rumor that I was working three jobs to survive? Completely false.
In reality, my “three jobs” were just me inspecting three branch locations for the company Occasionally, I’d help out as a server for fun. My workdays rarely exceeded five hours.
Ethan seemed to sense that something wasn’t adding up. Blocking my path, he asked,
“Fiona, can we talk? Just the two of us.”
I glanced at him–the same self–absorbed, entitled man he had always been–and replied with his own words:
“Ethan, there’s nothing between us anymore, and I have no intention of associating with someone like you”
He froze, clearly thrown by my response.
But he wasn’t ready to give up just yet.
“Don’t be like this,” he said, stepping closer. “There’s no need
d for us to cut each other off completely. Where are you staying now? Let me add you on social media. Or better yet, come back to Sea City–l can set you up with a nice place to live and a respectable job.”
2:43 PM c
<
Ethan’s sudden display of enthusiasm didn’t sit well with Sarah Jealousy flashed across her face, but she quickly masked it with her usual fake composure.
“Fiona,” she said in a sickly sweet tone, “you’re in your thirties now. Stop being so stubborn. Do you really want to waste the rest of your life working as a lowly waitress?”
