There were so many ways he could’ve staged an apology. Yet he chose the one that caused me the most physical pain.
Back at my desk, it took a long time before I could even gather the strength to hand my resignation letter to my supervisor.
He had tried to fight for my promotion too, but once Sean said no, there was nothing he could change.
“You’ve contributed seven years to this company,” he said softly. “Mr. Thompson knows that. You’re still young. You’ll have more chances in the future. Are you sure you don’t want to wait a little longer?”
These past years, I’d heard "in the future," "next time," and "wait a little longer" so many times they felt tattooed onto my ears.
I heard him say, "In the future," after every night with Sean, when I asked when we could go public.
I heard him say, "Wait a little longer," after every failed promotion.
I heard him say, "Next time," every time my parents pressured me to get married.
I never doubted my determination. But I couldn’t change an ending he had already written for me.
I shook my head with a tired smile.
“I’m twenty-eight. I’m not that young anymore. People my age are getting married, having kids. I can’t afford to lose my health, my career, and my future family all at once, can I?”
Eliza's POV
My supervisor didn’t say anything at first. He just looked at my pale face, sighed with a hint of regret, and signed his name.
“You can leave after you finish your handover this week,” he said. “I won’t tell Mr. Thompson. No need for him to make things harder for you. Besides, your position isn’t high enough to report to him directly anyway.”
Relief washed over me. “Thank you, Supervisor.”
Right after submitting the form, my phone lit up with a message from Sean.
[How’s your waist? I bought some medicine. I’ll put it on for you tonight.]
This was how he always apologized—indirectly. Whenever he knew he’d gone too far but couldn’t bring himself to say sorry, he’d offer this kind of half-hearted gesture.
I used to think that was affection. I would even take the chance to tease him a little.
Now I realized, it was nothing but a way to keep me within reach—his little reward to keep me obedient.
So, I replied, [Don’t bother. I've already booked a masseuse.]
As usual, the team was hosting a celebratory dinner for the promotion, yet I used my massage appointment as a polite excuse.