His Assistant His Ruin

Doris checked the time again, her eyes lingering on the glowing screen longer than necessary as if staring at it would somehow change what it showed.

10:47 PM.

Her fingers tightened slightly around her phone, but her expression remained composed as she looked up at the waiter standing beside her table. He had been hovering nearby for a while now, clearly waiting for the right moment to speak.

“Ma’am,” he said politely, though there was a hint of firmness beneath the tone, “this table was reserved for another guest by eleven. We’ll need you to vacate soon.”

Doris gave a small nod, forcing a faint smile that did not quite reach her eyes. “I understand. I’m just about leaving.”

She pushed her chair back slowly and stood, smoothing down her dress in an awkward way. The movement gave her something to focus on, something to ground herself with, because she could feel it now the weight of attention around her. It was subtle, all eyes were on her and people had noticed.

Of course they had, she had been sitting alone for three hours.

Waiting.

Her chest tightened slightly as she picked up her bag and turned toward the exit. The soft clicking of her heels against the polished floor seemed louder than usual, each step echoing more than it should have.

Of course he didn’t come.

The thought settled heavily in her mind, not sharp or surprising, just… familiar.

Tom never came.

There was always something: it could be a game, probably a friend or a reason that somehow made sense to him but never to her.

Six years.

Six whole years, and she was still not important enough.

By the time she stepped outside, the cool night air brushed against her skin, but it did nothing to calm the storm building inside her. If anything, it made everything feel sharper and clearer.

She reached her car and gripped the handle, ready to leave, ready to go home and pretend this night had not happened at all.

Then a hand pressed firmly against the door.

Doris froze.

Slowly, she turned her head.

“Tom.”

He smiled at her as though nothing had happened, as though she had not just spent hours waiting for him in a crowded restaurant while everyone else moved on with their evening.

Before he could speak, her hand moved.

Landing right on his cheek, the sound cut through the silence at the parking lot.

“You forgot?” Her voice shook despite the anger behind it. “You forgot again? Do you even hear yourself anymore?”

Tom rubbed his cheek, more annoyed than apologetic. “Come on, Doris. I was busy. I got caught up in a game, and I just…”

“A game?” she interrupted, a bitter laugh escaping before she could stop it. “A game is more important than me? After everything?”

“It’s not that serious,” he muttered, his expression shifting into something defensive. “Why do you always overreact?”

The words landed harder than they should have, not because they were new, but because there had been signs and she waited for wonders.

Doris stared at him, really looked at him this time, and something inside her shifted in a way she could not ignore.

“I’m done,” she said quietly.

Tom blinked, clearly unimpressed. “You say that every time.”

“I mean it this time,” she replied, her voice steadier now, even if her chest still felt tight. “I’m breaking up with you.”

He scoffed lightly, shaking his head. “You love me. You can’t leave.”

But I already have.

The realization came with a strange kind of calm.

Doris opened her car door, slid into the seat, and shut it firmly behind her, this time she did not hesitate she did not look back.

The road stretched ahead of her, illuminated by the soft glow of streetlights, but her thoughts were louder than the engine, every turn she took felt like pain and an addition to her anger.

The anger she felt lingered, so did humiliation.

And under it all, there was something quieter and heavier.

Regret.

“How did I even stay that long…” she murmured, her fingers tightening around the steering wheel.

Her vision blurred slightly, and she blinked it away, refusing to let herself break down now.

Six years wasted on someone who never chose her.

I should have left a long time ago.

The thought settled into her chest just as…..

“Crash!!!!!!!" 

 A sudden crash shattered the moment.

The impact jolted her forward, forcing a sharp breath out of her as her car came to an abrupt stop. For a second, everything went still, like the world had paused just long enough for her to process what had happened.

Then a door slammed, footsteps approached quickly.

“Miss! Look at what you’ve done!”

The voice snapped through the silence, pulling her back.

Doris blinked, still slightly disoriented, before pushing her door open and stepping out. The sight in front of her made her stomach drop almost immediately.

The other car was sleek, expensive, and far beyond anything she could afford. The damage was obvious, and there was no pretending otherwise.

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “I didn’t mean to…”

“Sorry?” the chauffeur repeated sharply. “Do you know how much this costs?”

Her jaw tightened.

“Fine,” she said, lifting her chin despite the unease settling in her chest. “Give me the bill, I’ll pay for it.”

Even as she said it, a quiet voice in the back of her mind reminded her of the truth.

You don’t even have enough to cover rent next month.

Still, she refused to let it show.

Before the chauffeur could respond, the back window of the car slid down slowly.

“Are we done here?”

The voice was calm, controlled, and completely uninterested.

Doris froze.

Her gaze lifted toward the car, and for a brief moment, everything else faded.

The man inside did not just look wealthy. There was something about him that felt… distant, as if the world did not quite touch him the same way it touched everyone else.

His features were sharp, his gaze unreadable, and his presence carried a quiet weight that made everything around him seem smaller.

Their eyes met.

Then, just as quickly, he looked away.

The window slid back up, cutting off the moment as if it had never happened.

Like she did not matter at all.

Doris clenched her jaw, heat rising to her face, but she said nothing.

The chauffeur handed her a card. “Send the payment here.”

She took it, turned, and got back into her car without another word.