Her Rules Ended Our Underground Love

By the time I returned to the dorm's common area, the sorrow I'd been holding back had become almost unbearable. I had to force myself to keep it under control.

I sank onto the couch and opened the transfer announcement in the company group chat. The list was short, containing only a handful of names.

Claire Brooks, Project Manager at Headquarters.

Charles Lawson, Assistant Project Manager.

A few others were listed as trainees who would accompany them to learn the ropes.

My name, however, was nowhere to be found.

Only then did I realize that tonight's farewell party had never really been about sending us off. It had been about sending them off.

I stared at the screen, my fingers slowly turning cold. In the end, I still couldn't resist sending Claire, my secret girlfriend, a message. "Why isn't my name on the list?"

She replied almost immediately. "We should keep our distance to avoid raising suspicion. If another transfer opportunity comes up next year, I'll try to get you transferred over. You need to learn to stand on your own, too. Otherwise, people will think you can't manage without someone holding your hand."

It was the same old story.

Whenever I was hurt, she'd shut me down with the same cold, rehearsed explanations, dressing them up as reason and professionalism.

I stared at her message, my throat tightening.

For the past three years, her constant insistence on avoiding suspicion had left me isolated, forcing me to swallow one grievance after another. Yet ever since Charles, her buddy, joined the company, she'd gone out of her way to look after him, treating him with a level of consideration she'd never shown me.

When I returned to my room, Charles was already packing, with several moving boxes scattered across the floor.

He was in high spirits. The moment he saw me walk in, he raised a hand in greeting.

I stood in the doorway, watching him for several seconds before finally asking, "When did you find out?"

His hands paused for a moment, but his tone remained casual. "This afternoon. Ms. Brooks told me ahead of time and asked me to start getting ready."

So the announcement had gone out that afternoon, which meant everyone had known about the transfers before I did.

I nodded and said nothing more, but Charles simply walked over and slung an arm around my shoulders as if nothing had happened.

"Hey, don't be upset. She said she'd try to get you transferred next year if there's an opportunity. You know she's always looked out for you."

Look out for me?

I stared at his carefree smile as a heavy, suffocating feeling settled in my chest. If he'd shown even the slightest consideration for my feelings, perhaps the whole thing wouldn't have hurt so much.

But he was so casual about it all, as though there had never been any question that standing by Claire's side was his rightful place.

…

That evening, Charles dragged me out to dinner, insisting we should celebrate in advance. I hadn't wanted to go, but in the end, I went along with him.

Soon after we sat down, Claire arrived. We were near the office, so she took her usual seat to Charles left.

Claire casually asked Charles what he wanted to eat before pulling a pair of disposable gloves from the package and handing them to him. When he said he didn't need them, she simply lowered her head and started peeling shrimp for him anyway, placing them on his plate one by one.

Sitting across from them, I felt my stomach tighten with every passing moment until I could barely stand to watch them.

Finally, Claire glanced in my direction. "Why aren't you eating?"

"My stomach's bothering me," I replied quietly. "I don't feel like eating anything too creamy."

I'd thought she'd at least ask if I wanted to order something else, but instead, she simply pushed the plate of shrimp I'd barely touched toward Charles.

"Here, you can have these. After all, this is your favorite place."

Charles hesitated for a moment before smiling and accepting the plate.

I stared at the shrimp, a bitter sense of absurdity washing over me. Apparently, telling Claire I wasn't feeling well wasn't enough to earn even a single word of concern. Instead, it had merely given her another opportunity to make someone else happy.

For the rest of the meal, the two of them talked nonstop about headquarters, their new offices, their new colleagues, and how they'd work together in the future.

I sat quietly, listening to them discuss their plans while struggling to find an opportunity to join the conversation. The longer they talked, the more I felt like I didn't belong there at all.

Only then did I realize that this dinner had never really been a celebration. I'd been invited to sit there and witness firsthand how effortlessly they understood each other.

And somehow, despite being the person who'd secretly dated Claire for three years, I felt more like an outsider than anyone else at the table.

That night, I lay in bed, unable to fall asleep as my mind drifted back to all the little moments that had accumulated over the past three years.

Charles was always the one who accompanied Claire on business trips, the one who appeared beside her in her social media posts, and the one she'd chosen to take home that night I'd gotten drunk, leaving me in the care of another colleague instead.

All this time, I'd used her insistence on avoiding suspicion to reassure myself that there was a good reason for everything.

But now, I was tired of making excuses for her.

For the first time, I couldn't help but wonder whether I still needed a friendship like this or a relationship like ours.