Chapter 4: Packed Out of His Life

Kanya's POV 

At 6 PM, I took a taxi to the house. It looked the same. The rose bushes we planted last spring were starting to bloom. A warm glow spilled from the windows. It looked like a home. 

I used my key to open the front door. The house smelled familiar. His sandalwood candle, my perfume, all blended into something that used to be ours. 

I went upstairs to the master bedroom and took a suitcase from the closet. I started grabbing my clothes, tossing them inside without folding them. 

I moved to the bathroom and grabbed my toothbrush and my skincare bottles. My eyes landed on his razor sitting next to my perfume. For a moment, I froze, a flicker of anger and disbelief twisting in my chest. I swept the perfume into my bag so hard it clinked against the glass, trying to shove the memory of him away with it. 

Then I heard the front door open. 

I froze. I thought he was staying late at the office, but the sound of heavy footsteps on the stairs told me otherwise. A moment later, Zane appeared in the doorway. He had taken off his suit jacket and unbuttoned his collar. He looked tired. 

"You are early," he said. 

"I wanted to get it over with," I said as I zipped up the first suitcase. 

He walked into the room and stood by the bed. He said nothing as he watched me fight with the zipper of my second bag. It was stuck. The fabric was caught. I pulled harder, but it refused to move. 

"Kanya," he said. 

"I've almost got it," I snapped. I pulled at the zipper again, harder this time. It snapped. The bag burst open, and my clothes spilled everywhere. 

I stared at the mess. The first tear fell before I could stop it. I wiped it away quickly, but another one followed right after. 

"Let me help," Zane said. He stepped toward me. 

"Do not touch my things," I said. I knelt on the floor and started stuffing the clothes back in. "You want me gone. I am going. Just stay back." 

I kept my head down. My hands shook as I shoved a sweater into the broken suitcase. I didn’t want him to see my face. I didn’t want him to see how much I was falling apart. 

Zane didn't listen. Instead, he knelt on the floor across from me and reached out to pick up one of my shirts. He began to fold it with slow, steady movements. 

"I said don't touch it," I whispered. I tried to grab the shirt from him, but he held on. 

"You're making a mess, Kanya. You'll never get the door shut like this." His voice wasn't cold anymore. It was quiet. It sounded like the man I used to know. 

I stopped moving. I sat on my heels and watched him. He folded another shirt. Then he reached for a pair of my jeans. He was being careful. He was being gentle.  

"Why are you acting like you care?" I asked. My voice broke. "You already threw me away. Why play the gentleman now?" 

Zane didn't look up. He kept his eyes on the clothes. "I just want to make sure you have everything you need." 

"I don't need your help. I needed you to keep your promises." 

He stiffened and dropped the jeans before looking at me. For a second, the mask slipped. Pain flickered across his face. His jaw tightened, and his eyes darkened with something that looked like regret. 

He lifted his hand as if to touch my cheek, but it stopped halfway, hovering in the space between us. 

Then he lowered it and pushed himself to his feet. 

"The suitcase is full," he said. The coldness was back. "I'll carry it down to the car for you." 

"I can do it myself," I said. I stood up and tried to grab the handle. 

Zane brushed me aside. He picked up both heavy bags like they weighed nothing. He walked out of the room without looking back. I followed him down the stairs. The house felt empty already. Every photo of us was gone from the walls. The shelves where my books used to be were bare. 

He walked out the front door and put the bags in the trunk of the taxi I had waiting. He slammed the trunk shut. 

The driver started the engine. I stood on the sidewalk, holding my purse tight against my chest. 

"Is that it?" I asked. "Three years ends like this?" 

Zane stood by the car door. The porch light hit his face, highlighting the sharp lines of his features. He looked at me, and I saw his throat move as he swallowed. 

"That's it," he said. 

"Do you love her, Zane? Do you love her more than you loved me?" 

He didn't answer right away. He looked past me at the dark street. "It doesn't matter what I feel. She is having my child. My life is with her now." 

"You didn't answer the question." 

Zane finally looked at me. His eyes were hard. 

"I am not going to stand here and talk about love with you, Kanya," he said. "It is over. That is the only thing that matters." 

"It matters to me," I said. "I gave you three years. I deserve to know if any of it was real." 

He stepped closer to me. For a moment, the distance between us vanished. He looked down at me, and his hand twitched at his side. I thought he might grab me. I thought he might finally tell me this was all a lie. 

Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a white envelope. He held it out to me, but I didn’t take it. I just looked at it. 

"What is that?" I asked. 

"Severance," he said. "And a recommendation letter. It is high praise. You can get a job at any firm in the city with this." 

I felt a cold chill run down my spine. The throb in my head from the hangover returned with a vengeance. I looked from the envelope to his face. 

"A recommendation?" I repeated. "I am not quitting. I am staying at Knight Enterprises." 

"No, Kanya," he said. His voice was firm. "You aren't." 

"You can't just fire me because we broke up," I said. My voice rose. "That is illegal. I have done nothing wrong. My work is perfect." 

"I am not firing you because we broke up," Zane said. He stepped closer, his shadow falling over me. "I am firing you because your presence is a distraction. I am the CEO. I can terminate your contract for a dozen different reasons, and I have the legal team to make it stick. You are done at the office as of this moment." 

I stared at him. The man who used to hold me until I fell asleep was now talking to me like a problem he was scrubbing off his floor. 

"You want me gone that badly?" I asked. "You want to erase every single part of me from your life?" 

"It is better this way," he said. He dropped the envelope on top of my purse. "Don't come in tomorrow. Your final check will be mailed to your hotel. Taylor will pack up your desk and send your things to you." 

He turned around and walked back toward the house. 

I stood on the sidewalk for a long time. The taxi driver cleared his throat, but I didn't move. He thought he could just click a lock and erase me. He thought a white envelope could replace three years of my life. 

He was wrong. 

I got into the taxi and gave the driver the name of my hotel. My head still throbbed, but the sadness was starting to turn into a cold, hard knot in my stomach. I was not going to let him take my career. I had worked hard for my position. I was more than just his ex-girlfriend. I was his best employee.