Goodbye, Mr. De Castello

The next morning, I woke up with a heavy head and swollen eyes. But the heaviest thing... was the decision I’d made.

I knew I couldn’t just walk away without leaving something behind. Nicholas wasn’t the kind of man who survived in chaos. He needed a system. A rhythm. A structure.

And unfortunately, that system was me.

For years, I didn’t just manage his schedule and meetings. I learned his habits. When he drank his coffee, two shots of espresso, no sugar, exactly at 7:45.

How he arranged files on his desk perfectly aligned, no colorful post-its because they looked “stupid,” his words.

I knew he never stored important contacts in his phone. They were all kept in a black binder in the third drawer from the left.

I knew which clients he could tolerate during lunch and which ones he’d ignore for three days unless absolutely necessary.

I even knew he hated blue ink.

I wrote it all down. Clean. Organized. Thirty full pages, including attachments for email codes and priority folders.

I added a separate file with briefings on ongoing projects, everything he’d need to survive the next few months without falling apart.

And finally, I stuck a tiny note in the upper left corner of the binder:

“Don’t forget to eat lunch. And please stop killing people with your glare.”

– M.

I don’t know why I wrote that. Maybe because I was tired. Maybe because some small, pathetic part of me still hoped he’d read it and at least smile. Or get mad.

Anything but silence.

I threw on my coat, picked up the folder, and left the apartment.The walk to the office felt longer than usual.

Upstairs, I found Vittoria, my assistant, typing fast like always. She looked up and gave me a smile.

“Morning, May.”

I placed the folder on her desk. My hands were still slightly trembling. “These are all the important notes. Meeting schedules, Client A’s progress, Venice project revisions... and little things about Nicholas. I mean, Mr. De Castello,” I corrected myself quickly. “His routines. Details only I would know. You can pass them along to whoever replaces me, or... whatever. Pay close attention. Don’t mess this up. He doesn’t like chaos..”

Vittoria froze. Her hands stopped moving. Her eyes slowly swept across the folder, then lifted to meet mine.

“Maya...” she whispered, eyes wide in disbelief. “You’re... leaving?”

I didn’t answer. Just gave a small nod, “I just... need a break.”

“This isn’t a break,” she murmured, voice cracking as her eyes began to gloss over. “This is you... leaving.”

I couldn’t hold her gaze any longer, so I turned before my emotions could spill.

My steps felt heavy as I walked to Nicholas’s office. I could hear my own heartbeat in my ears.

God. After all these years of walking into that room dozens of times a day, this morning... this morning felt like goodbye.

I knocked gently.

“Come in.” That deep voice. Steady, like always.

I opened the door. He was at his desk, looking like he always did. Flawless, unreadable, wearing a black shirt and that watch I knew cost more than my apartment.

His eyes stayed on the screen, but even before I could speak, his voice cut the air. “I’ve handled your transfer.”

I froze.

Nicholas finally looked up. The first time in days. His blue eyes were cold. Blank. Sharp. “I requested you be reassigned to our out-of-town branch. Starting next week.”

“Sir—”

“And it’s best if we don’t see each other for a while,” he said, not letting me finish. “My father’s heard the rumors. I don’t want to escalate the situation.”

I didn’t say a word.

I just stood, looking at the man who once held me like I was the only thing that kept him breathing. Now he couldn’t even give me the decency of a full sentence. As if my existence was a liability he had to get rid of. Quick, clean, and far away.

Then he moved. Opened a drawer. Pulled something out. A business card.

He held it out without meeting my eyes. Like it was just another transaction. “His name’s Dr. Salvatore. He’s our family’s private physician. Discreet,” he said flatly. “He’s been briefed. I told him to give you the best post-abortion care. No record. No trace.”

My fingers stiffened as I took it.

For a second, I couldn’t think. I just stared at the small white card in my hand. His name. A number.

You think I’d erase this baby that easily, Nicholas?

I almost laughed. And for a second, I nearly managed it. But all that came out was a dry, bitter chuckle. Sarcastic. Hollow.

“Thank you for your... thoughtfulness, Mr. De Castello,” I said softly and dangerously sweet, resisting the urge to slap him. “Truly... considerate.”

He didn’t reply. He just stared at me, jaw tight, like he wanted to say something but swallowed it instead. Of course. Nicholas never spoke when he should. He just closed every door with an order and a signature.

I opened the folder in my hands. Then pulled out a single blue file I’d prepared the night before. With a smile, I placed it on the desk in front of him.

 “There’s a document you need to sign, Sir.” I said professionally, calm and poised.

He grabbed it without a word. Picked up a pen. And scribbled his name in the corner like he’d done a thousand times before. He didn’t even glance at the contents. Didn’t flip the page.

Didn’t ask a single question.

It was my resignation letter.

That signature in black ink danced over my name, putting a full stop to everything we’d ever built.

I watched him for a moment, locking in the final image of him in my memory. The sharp jaw, the perfectly combed hair that no storm could touch, and those cold blue eyes that, somehow, still made me want to slap him and kiss him at the same time.

Funny, isn’t it? Even when you're breaking, you still want the one who shattered you.

“Is there anything else, sir?” I asked in a flat voice I’d practiced since sunrise.

He shook his head. “That’s all.”

I nodded. “Very well.”

I turned, took a deep breath, and walked to the door.

When it closed behind me, I stood in the hallway for a moment. Letting myself take it in. The office that had been the center of my life. The place I first saw him laugh. The place he asked me to stay late that night over a ‘missing file.’ The place where he touched my hand for the first time, just to grab a pen.

The place that witnessed how far I fell.

Today, I wasn’t just leaving my job. I was walking out of his life. Out of this entire mess.

Out of this city.

My suitcase was packed. Ticket bought. Every important thing accounted for.

There was nothing worth leaving behind. Because the truth was...there was no one here who truly wanted me to stay.

I walked away. Step by step, down the stairs, out of the building, into the same cold morning that hadn’t changed.

For the first time in a long while... I felt free.

Broken.

Exhausted.

Bleeding inside.

But free.

And inside me, there was a tiny life I already loved with everything I had.

I didn’t know where we’d live. Or what job I’d take. But I knew one thing for sure:

My child wouldn’t grow up in lies and coldness.

They would grow somewhere warm.

And I would be the reason they’d know what unconditional love feels like.