A photo of a coffee cup, captioned: The boss was in a great mood today. Bought coffee for the whole office.

In the corner of the photo, a pair of cufflinks glinted on a man's wrist. The same cufflinks I'd given David for his birthday three years ago.

February 21st. My birthday. David said he had a client dinner. I reheated his food three times before finally scraping it into the trash.

A photo of a bouquet of flowers, captioned: Someone said work is too exhausting. You have to be kind to yourself.

Corinne reached out, saying she wanted to learn about Mr. Delgado's personal preferences so she could better manage his daily schedule. She suggested we meet at a coffee shop.

When I pushed open the door, a woman in a white knit sweater smiled at me.

The smile was soft. The eyes were razor-sharp.

It was her.

The white dress had been swapped for a white sweater, but I recognized that face.

"Ellie! Over here, sit down."

Her smile was sweet. Her voice was sweeter.

"Thank you for coming." She lowered her gaze and stirred her coffee. "I just started at the company, so there's a lot I don't know yet. I was hoping you could help me understand Mr. Delgado's dietary preferences."

"He doesn't eat cilantro or scallions," I said, lifting my cup.

"Right, right, I knew that." She covered her mouth with a little laugh. "He also won't touch carrots. Apparently he was forced to eat them as a kid, and now he makes a face whenever he sees one."

She knew. She knew everything.

I set my cup down.

"Assistant Henson, you didn't invite me here just to ask about that."

Her smile faltered for a second, then stretched wider.

"You really are sharp, Ellie."

She leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs. The mask came off.

"I'll just say it, then."

"Ellie, don't you think whatever you and Mr. Delgado have... has run its course?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what it sounds like." She tilted her head. "There's no love left between you two. Instead of dragging it out, why not let go while you still have some dignity?"

"You're telling me to get a divorce?"

"I'm offering you a way out." She corrected me with a smile. "No job, no children, nothing to contribute to his life. What's the point of holding on?"

I clenched my fists.

"Who do you think you are? You're an administrative assistant. You don't get to tell me to step aside."