The Art of Not Missing You

When we got home, Ethan ordered burn ointment from Uber Eats:

“Sophia, please don’t be so sensitive. Stop deliberately targeting Olivia. We’ll be seeing each other often from now on, and I hope you two can get along.”

Did he really think a tube of ointment would make everything better while he played both sides?

I applied the cream without saying a word, and he still didn’t come home that night.

The next day at work, my colleagues were giving me odd looks.

As I sat at my desk, Emily, a close coworker, leaned in and whispered, “Sophia, everyone’s saying you tried to seduce Mr. Foster and got caught by his girlfriend. The rumor’s spreading like wildfire around the company…”

She handed me her phone.

Only then did I realize someone had been at the scene yesterday and created a new group overnight, gossiping about my “failed attempt to climb into his bed.”

Before I could defend myself, Ethan walked in with Olivia at his side.

“Everyone, meet Olivia Summers, our new department manager.”

So this was what Ethan meant by “seeing each other often”, he’d dropped Olivia in as my superior.

Instantly, all eyes turned to me.

After the previous manager resigned, I had been handling the department’s affairs, and everyone had assumed I’d be promoted.

Ethan added Olivia to the company group right in front of everyone.

They both posted a message, and their matching avatars made their relationship painfully obvious.

All morning, the office buzzed with gossip.

Since I was already planning to resign, I didn’t care about losing the position that should’ve been mine. After emailing my resignation to HR, I took a rare break and made myself some honey citron tea in the pantry.

I had barely taken a couple sips when Olivia walked in.

She brewed herself a coffee and sat next to me, her presence oozing with triumph.

“Sophia, I know you’ve been Ethan’s dirty little secret for five years, but I’m his real girlfriend. Now that I’m back, it’s time for you to bow out gracefully. Keep quiet like you’ve always done, and I won’t make trouble for you.”

Then she played a voice message, the little boy from yesterday, proudly saying:

“Auntie Olivia, did I do good? Don’t forget the Transformers you promised me!”

So, that’s why it had been such a “coincidence.”

Her sly smile set off alarm bells in my head. I should’ve left right then, but instead, she grabbed my cup and poured the tea over her own head. Smashing the mug at my feet, she let the shards scatter.

The cold tea dripped down her face, and her soaked clothes and disheveled hair painted a pitiful picture.

This woman would do anything to frame me.

Blocking my exit, she shrieked dramatically, “Sophia, how could you do this to me?”

Her cries attracted a crowd. For good measure, she splashed coffee on her blouse and rubbed her neck until it turned red.

I’d had enough. I slapped her hard across the face.

Ethan came running just in time to see me strike the disheveled Olivia. Without hesitation, he retaliated with a stinging slap of his own.

“Sophia! If you don’t want this job, get the hell out!”

Still seething, he shoved me aside and swept Olivia into his arms, carrying her to his office like some damsel in distress.

I staggered back, the edge of the desk jabbing into my lower back. Pain shot through me, and tears welled up.

The HR manager, who had been hesitating about my resignation, quickly approved it.

Ethan, too busy comforting Olivia, rubber-stamped my departure without reading anything.

The finance department, eager to suck up to the future Mrs. Foster, rushed to settle my final paycheck.

As I started handing over my client files, I discovered my corporate email had already been deleted, just another privilege Ethan had claimed for himself.

I texted him my breakup note, only to find that both my number and WhatsApp were blocked.

With nothing left to hold onto, I gathered my things and headed straight for the airport.