Eloise’s POV
I didn’t know if I had made the right decision.
I didn’t sign the divorce papers. I just couldn’t. I chose to believe in his words again.
But what can I do? He felt so real.
Maybe I was being stupid all over again—but I wanted to hold on to what he said, even if it hurt, even if I ended up alone again.
“Eloise!”
I stopped walking through the hallway when I heard someone call my name. When I turned, it was Mildred. I forced myself to smile, but before I could even speak—
Slap!
I gasped, stunned. My hand flew to my cheek where she had stru
My hands were clenched into fists at my sides. I didn’t say a word as I watched Mildred walk away, her heels clicking like a drumbeat of mockery down the hallway.Every word she said echoed in my mind.Substitute.He’ll never love someone like you.It was like being gutted with a dull knife. Slow, painful, deliberate.I should be used to it by now.People always saw me as someone else—someone they wanted me to be.Never just… me.I closed my eyes and let out a shaky breath.I shouldn’t let Mildred
Their engagement party will happen tomorrow evening.I couldn’t believe it. I really couldn’t.Sebastian didn’t want me to sign the divorce papers, and yet—here he is, sending me an invitation?Was this his way of mocking me? Did he honestly think I would just quietly accept this?Like a fool?Weakly, I sat down on the edge of my bed. I didn’t know what to feel anymore.My heart was pounding so fast it was hard to breathe.Pain and anger warred inside me—and what I felt wasn’t just rage. It was betrayal.He played me.How could he do this to me?My eyes blurred with tears, falling without mercy.Maybe Mia was right all along. Maybe I should just sign those damn papers. Because really—what else is left to wait for?Whether I hold on or let go, it seems he’s already decided who he wants.His first love.Mildred.—The next day, I barely had the energy to get out of bed.I nearly arrived late to work because I had to apply cold compresses on my eyes—they were so puffy from all the crying
I came home not even knowing how to feel anymore.I was exhausted—completely and utterly drained, but I couldn’t explain why.I should be happy right now.I got the lead designer position.But why does it still feel like something’s missing?I went straight to my room and locked myself in.After showering, I started unpacking my things. The bath helped. It made me feel a little lighter—refreshed, even, if only for a while.I had taken everything out of my bag when I noticed something was missing.Where was it?I turned my bag inside out, digging through every corner. Still, I couldn’t find it. I even checked the desk in my room, but nothing.I rushed to the studio. Nothing there either.Where was my necklace?Feeling defeated, I sat on the stool.That necklace had been a gift from my childhood best friend. It couldn’t just be gone. It wasn’t just jewelry—it was a memory, a promise made by two kids with hearts full of dreams.And then I remembered—I had worn it to work. On my first da
A wide smile stretched across my face as I walked out of the company building. Even now, I still couldn’t believe Ms. Savarre had chosen me as the lead designer.It was a huge deal for me—proof that I was finally on the path to achieving my dream.“Your personal life should not interfere with your work.” I exhaled deeply, remembering Ms. Savarre’s words.Whatever Mildred’s reason was for what she did earlier, I didn’t know. But I was grateful that Ms. Savarre caught it before it could do real damage.Whatever it is, I needed to stay away from her now. And more than anything, I needed to figure out where I really stood in Sebastia
The hallway leading to Ms. Savarre’s office felt endless.My heart still hadn't settled since the confrontation in the conference room. I walked silently behind her, my sketchbook clutched tightly against my chest like armor.Behind us, I could still hear the muffled shouting of Mildred as she was escorted out. I should’ve felt victorious. Vindicated. But all I felt was… drained.When we entered her office, Ms. Savarre gestured for me to sit, then closed the door behind us. The space was minimalist and modern—glass walls, neutral tones, and the distinct scent of leather and paper. A room where ideas were born—and crushed.She sat across from me, fingers steepled under her chin, her gaze unreadable.
The moment we stepped into the conference room, tension filled the air. The department heads were already seated, poised and waiting. And in the center—commanding, elegant, and untouchably powerful—sat Ms. Savarre.She gestured for us to take our seats.Mildred immediately strode to the front, her smile too sweet, too practiced—clearly trying to make an impression.I followed quietly, clutching my sketchbook tightly under my arm, my heart hammering in my chest. Every line I’d drawn, every detail I’d chosen—I had poured myself into this collection. This wasn’t just a submission. It was a piece of me.“Let’s begin,” Ms. Savarre said as she flipped through a set of folders in front of her. “We’ll take a