CHAPTER THREE

Mira

The worst had happened.

The week hadn’t been pleasant for me — stressful days at work and little things triggering painful memories. I felt blue all through, but nothing could have been more devastating than hearing from the most trivial source that Henry had quietly wedded his fiancée.

I couldn’t believe my ears when Kent, a bartender at one of the bars Henry and I often frequented, told me they had served drinks at his wedding two weeks ago. He even showed me photos from the event. The bastard’s smile was bright as the sun — a smile that reached his eyes and made his face slightly red. His hand was around his bride’s waist, the other holding a plate of cake. The bride was Vanessa. I couldn’t help but hate her.

This man never loved me. That smile… that was love.

Kent went on and on about how shocked he was that I wasn’t the bride, which made me flush with shame. He described how Henry and his bride seemed so in love, how the wedding was small but lavish. His words soon became distant and incoherent to me — I wasn’t listening anymore. I stood still, too stiff, clutching my bag with both hands until my knuckles went white. My heart tightened, squeezing painfully.

“Are you okay?” Kent’s hands rested lightly on my shoulders, his eyes full of concern.

“Of course,” I forced the words out, barely above a whisper.

He studied my face for a moment. “No, you’re not. You’re crying.”

I hadn’t realized the tears had started streaming down my face. I wiped at them repeatedly with the back of my hand.

“You need any help?” he asked.

I hated the pity in his eyes. This was the same bar where I had once flaunted my love as though my life depended on it — and now here I was, in tears, while Henry was happily married. Kent pitied me, thinking I’d been dumped. But there was no way I’d tell him the humiliating truth.

He walked me out of the mall and hailed a taxi for me. I cried silently the entire ride, not caring that the driver kept sneaking curious glances at me through the rearview mirror.

The next day, I broke the news to Laura. She appeared at my door with a neatly packed mini bag. She knew me too well. She stayed for four days, and the first night was long — I poured my heart out and cried without restraint, letting her hold and comfort me.

It was still a shock to us that he had married his fiancée just months after we quietly parted ways. He had never called me after the incident at the café. He hadn’t cared how I felt or what would happen once I found out his secret. There wasn’t even a text from him — no apology, no official breakup.

It was time to forget he ever existed. I would hate myself if I so much as remembered him. Besides, he was married now, and crying over the hurt, betrayal, or even missing the love… that would be diabolical.

I arrived at work early today — but apparently not early enough to avoid Ken.

“Nice bag.” His voice was maddeningly smooth.

“Thanks.” I kept walking toward my office.

“How are you doing today?”

He just didn’t know when to stop. I wanted him to think I was aloof, but either he was too dense to notice, or I wasn’t playing the part as well as I thought. “Great,” I replied, forcing a smile until my jaw ached. I continued to my office.

I had barely settled in when Clara, the head of operations, pushed my door open and strode in. With one hand on her waist, she looked around the room like I wasn’t even there. Finally, she twitched her jaw and spoke.

“Mira, the meeting’s at eight.”

I hated her guts — the temerity to walk in without knocking. I’d grown used to her arrogant, bossy nature. She glanced around like she owned the place, then her eyes landed on my bag.

“Nice bag. I bet it’s worth a fortune. I wonder how you could own such.”

I smiled sweetly in response. She gave a small hum and walked out without closing the door.

I’d studied her long enough to recognize the flash of jealousy in her eyes when she saw my bag. She loved being the center of attention and spent huge amounts on expensive clothing. To her, I was a rival. I wondered how she managed to be so high and mighty in such a small firm.

We were all seated in the boardroom when the meeting kicked off. Bernard, the manager, announced that Voughan Digitals — the parent company to which our firm was affiliated — was recruiting staff across its branches for training and retention. Each company was to send two delegates by the end of the month.

An examination would be conducted, and those with outstanding scores would be employed at the prestigious Voughan Digitals.

It was a huge announcement.

“Good luck, everyone, as you put in your best to be selected,” Bernard concluded.

I looked around and saw excitement on everyone’s faces. This was a golden opportunity — the first of its kind — and I wanted it, too. Voughan was the pinnacle of the digital world, with the best talents and the finest equipment.

Still, I tried not to get my hopes too high. Bernard might play favorites, and the Voughan office wouldn’t know if someone’s work records had been altered. This was an opportunity I had prayed for, and now it had come — but I wouldn’t go begging Bernard, as I knew others would.

It was past seven in the evening when I finally stepped out of my office to leave. In the waiting area, I spotted Ken sitting with his legs crossed, reading a magazine. He carried himself with a composed aura — unusual for an intern — and a certain air of superiority. I’d noticed it the first time he entered my office, but I hadn’t dwelt on it.

Seeing him looking so calm, like this was his company, made me wonder if he was cut out for the job. He looked sharp in his blue vintage shirt and grey trousers — like a boss.

I didn’t have time to talk to him, so I walked past.

“Hello, Miss Mira.” He lowered the magazine slightly.

“Hi, Ken. And please — Mira is fine.” I forced another smile.

“Why are you just leaving?”

I should have been the one asking the new intern what he was still doing there so late, but I answered anyway. “Obvious reasons, of course.”

“To deliver a great job as the graphic designer?”

I paused. I’d never told him that. Someone must have done their homework.

“Yes,” I replied with a smile and walked away.

Ken was nosy — always starting conversations and not respecting boundaries. And I hated that I kept running into him.