WE CAN'T DO THIS ANYMORE

SCARLETT 

I froze like someone poured ice water down my back. My chest felt tight, my hands were shaking, and I couldn’t even form a single word. Vincent was staring at me like he didn’t know me anymore, like I was some stranger in his world.

“Divorce me?” he shouted again, his voice breaking through the silence like thunder. “What the heck is going on?! Are you two… are you having an affair or something?!”

My throat felt dry. I couldn’t breathe, but I had to say something—anything.

“No! No way!” I shouted quickly, holding my hands up like I needed to defend myself. “What?! An affair?! How can I even do that? He’s my father-in-law! Vincent, he’s older than me, way older. This doesn’t even make sense!”

I was panicking. My heart was jumping. The room felt smaller and tighter with every passing second. I kept talking fast, like if I stopped, everything would collapse around me.

“We’re not doing anything! We were just… talking. That’s all. You understand, right? Please, you have to believe me.”

Vincent took a deep breath and stepped closer. His eyes searched my face, trying to figure out if I was lying.

“Then what was that about divorce?” he asked quietly. “Why did I hear you say you want to divorce me?”

I paused. My lips parted, but nothing came out. I was stuck. My brain was racing, but no words made sense.

“I… I was talking about someone else,” I said, forcing a nervous laugh. “You know, just some story. About a friend. We used to be really close, childhood friends. That’s all. Just silly talk.”

He looked at me, silent for a moment. Then he gave a tight smile.

“Alright then,” he said slowly. “Let’s go to sleep.”

That night, I lay beside him in bed, but I didn’t sleep. Not even for a second. My eyes were wide open, staring into the darkness. My mind wouldn’t stop running. I kept turning left, then right, then left again. I didn’t know what I was doing anymore. Why was I even lying like this? Why couldn’t I just tell him the truth?

The truth was simple—I didn’t love Vincent. I hadn’t loved him in a long time. And I was tired of pretending.

I sat up in bed and stared at the floor. Should I tell him now? Should I just say it—"I want a divorce"?

But my mouth couldn’t form the words. Every time I thought I was ready, something held me back. Fear. Guilt. Maybe both.

Then, in the middle of the night, my phone buzzed.

Congratulations! You have been selected as Mr. Zayden’s new secretary.

My heart jumped. I stared at the message again and again. I couldn’t believe it. Me? His secretary?

Suddenly, I felt hope. I was going to see him every day. I would be close to him. I could watch him, talk to him, maybe even make him see how I really felt.

In the morning, I told Vincent about it.

“I got a job,” I said, trying to sound casual.

His eyes lit up. “Really? Where?”

“At your dad’s company. I’ll be his secretary.”

He grinned. “That’s great! I’m happy for you.”

I forced a smile and nodded. But inside, my heart was doing flips. Was this really a good idea?

I got dressed, fixed my hair, and walked downstairs. Zayden was already there, sipping coffee.

“I’m ready,” I said softly.

He looked up, surprised. “You’re really going to be my secretary?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

“Wow,” he muttered, almost to himself.

We got into the car together. The silence was thick. I could feel his eyes on me, but he didn’t say much. We reached the office, and I followed him to his floor. As soon as we stepped in, he dropped his bag and grabbed my hand.

“Come,” he said quickly.

He dragged me to the back office, opened a side door, and pulled me into a small restroom. My heart was beating fast.

“What’s going on?” I whispered.

He shut the door, leaned against the sink, and stared at the ground.

“I can’t do this,” he said suddenly. “Scarlett… I just can’t.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, my voice trembling. “Why?”

He shook his head. “I’m older than you. This is wrong. I’m your father-in-law. This… thing between us? It can’t work. I’m sorry.”

Tears filled my eyes. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

“But you made me want you again,” I whispered, taking a step closer. “You kissed me. You said you needed me. And now you’re saying you can’t?”

“I didn’t mean to,” he said, voice tight. “I lost control. But it can’t go on. It’s too dangerous. People will get hurt. I’ll get hurt. You’ll get hurt.”

Tears started to fall. I didn’t even wipe them. I just stood there, frozen.

He walked past me, opened the door, and left.

Just like that.

I stood in the restroom, staring at myself in the mirror. My makeup was ruined. My lips were shaking. My chest was rising and falling so fast, I felt like I was about to pass out.

No.

He wasn’t going to leave me like that. Not this time.

If he thought he could just kiss me, touch me, then walk away like I didn’t matter—he was wrong. He was so, so wrong.

I stepped out, wiped my face, and marched back to my desk like nothing happened. But inside, something had snapped. I wasn’t going to beg. I wasn’t going to cry anymore.

If he didn’t want me, I was going to make him want me.

I was going to make him remember every single second we spent together.

I was going to make sure he couldn’t look at anyone else but me.

Even if I had to do crazy things.

Even if it meant going too far.

I wouldn't give up on him. He's mine and forever will be. I'll make him mine eventually.