22! I Let Her Walk Away!

MATTHEW 

I stood there, watching her go.

Her words hit harder than any slap. “I don’t want anything to do with you.”

She didn’t yell. She didn’t cry. But it hurt more because of how calm she was—like she meant every word.

I wanted to run after her. To explain. To tell her that none of this meant what she thought it did.

But I didn’t move.

I just… stood there.

The room had emptied out. The chairs were still pulled back, papers scattered, but the only thing I could think about was her.

Zara.

Her fire. Her strength. The way her voice didn’t shake once during that entire presentation, even though I knew she was barely holding it together.

And I hated myself for being part of what made it harder for her.

I felt a huge hug from behind, Monica. I groaned but enough that she could hear.

“Hey, you look grumpy,” she said, standing in front of me, and kissing me all over.

“Monica, we are exposed over here,” I tried to sound happy she wanted to have sex with me in the conference room. In front of everyone.

“Okay, my office then. I know how to get this grumpy look off your face,” she said, flirtatiously.

We walked towards her office on the opposite wing of the floor with her dragging me along for the ride. 

We got into her office, she shut the door, and pulled down the blinds. 

She continued kissing me all over while my mind was somewhere else, with someone else. 

“But you haven't had this in a while,” I heard, and I rolled my eyes. Sometimes Monica knows just the right spot to touch me.

Well, Monica is here right now, I should have what she's giving to me. I tilted her head up, and kissed her.

I kissed Monica, but it didn’t feel right.

Her lips were soft. Her hands moved over my shirt like she had a map. But nothing stirred inside me. Nothing real.

Because she wasn’t her.

She wasn’t Zara.

My heart wasn’t in it. My body was here, but my mind… it kept going back to the look on Zara’s face when she walked away.

Cold.

Clear.

Done.

Monica pulled me closer, like she was trying to remind me I was hers—even if I never really was.

“See?” she whispered. “Doesn’t this feel better than chasing someone who doesn’t want you?”

I pulled back, my breath uneven. “No talking,” I said, breathlessly.

“Good,” she led me to the cushion in the office, taking off my tie in the process. “Just how I like it.”

Monica’s lips pressed against mine, eager and fast. She kissed me like she was starving, like she needed to prove something.

I let her.

Her hands slid under my shirt, touching my skin like she’d done it a hundred times before. Because she had.

But it felt different now.

Empty.

She kissed down my neck, pulled my shirt over my head, and pushed me down onto the couch. I didn’t stop her. My body moved, but my mind wasn’t here.

It was with her.

Zara.

I could still hear her voice, calm and sharp like a knife:

“I don’t want anything to do with you.”

That sentence played over and over in my head, even as Monica kissed lower, pulling at my belt. Her fingers were quick, practiced, desperate.

I helped her only because it was easier than thinking.

She slipped off her dress, letting it fall to the floor. I looked at her—really looked—but I didn’t see her.

All I saw was the space Zara had left behind.

“Missed this,” Monica whispered, sliding onto my lap, her bare skin pressing against mine. She moaned as she moved, slow at first, then faster, trying to find something in me.

I gave her what she wanted—my hands, my lips, my body.

But my heart?

Cold.

Her head tilted back as she rode me, her voice breathless. She called my name like it meant something. Like I was still hers.

I wasn’t.

My hands gripped her hips, guiding her movements. She gasped, clawing at my chest, begging for more.

I gave it.

I thrust deeper, harder. The sound of skin on skin filled the office, the couch creaking under us. She was loud, wild, completely lost in it.

I wasn’t.

Even as my body responded, even as the heat built between us, I felt nothing inside. No fire. No rush. Just movement.

Just noise.

I kept my eyes open, staring past her shoulder. Every time I blinked, I saw Zara’s face. The way she looked at me like I was a stranger. Like I had broken something in her.

Monica pulled me closer, breathing heavily. “See?” she said softly. “I still know how to take care of you.”

I didn’t answer.

Because the truth was, she didn’t.

Only one woman did.

And she was gone.

I finished, but it felt like a task, not pleasure. There was no satisfaction. No spark. Just a cold silence settling in my chest.

Monica collapsed against me, smiling, running her fingers through my hair like she thought we were back to normal.

I let her think that.

Because I didn’t have the energy to explain the truth—that she could have my body all she wanted.

But someone else already had my soul.

And her name was Zara. 

I smiled heavily, as I wore back my clothes. “Leaving already?” Monica asked.

“Yes,” I said, I have some work to do.”

“Aww,” she cried like a baby. It felt exhausting to hear her voice. “I wanted us to have more fun together.”

“Another time,” I leaned down to kiss her, she held my neck, and kissed me deeply, moaning in my mouth.

“Okay,” I laughed, breaking us up. “I have to go,” I walked towards the door, went out. I looked down to continue buttoning up. That's when I felt someone watching me.

I looked up, and it was Zara's assistant. I think her name's Vic.

“It's not…what you think,”I stammered, and she scoffed.

“It's exactly what I think it is,” she said, and walked away.