Letting Go のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 11 - チャプター 20

I wake up, ready to start the day. I turn my phone back on while I get dressed and brew some peppermint tea. I kept trying to grab everything with my right hand, which proved annoying considering I have a cast on that wrist, and made grabbing things a task. As I was eating some fruit and yogurt, my phone buzzed with notifications. I glanced at them and saw two missed calls from Zander and a single message asking me why I’m mad and to call him when I’m done throwing my tantrum. I deleted them all without responding to him. After breakfast, I called my boss and spoke to him about the situation. He agreed that I can work from home starting on Monday and gave me the next two days off to rest, given my concussion, but we set up a meeting with the HR department for later today to go over the details of everything, including my transfer paperwork. I turned on my computer and set to work looking for places in the area of the new company. I want everything ready before I

Zander She hangs up the phone, and I hand the phone back to her mother. “Where is she? Is she inside? I have to see her, Kelly, please. I can fix this,” I plead. “It’s just a misunderstanding. She loves me.” “Not anymore, Zander,” Kelly whispers. The sadness in her face tells me she’s not lying. “Do the right thing, Zander. Let her go.” “No. It’s just a misunderstanding. I can fix it. Please, let me go talk to her,” I try again. Before I push passed her, Dylan’s car pulls into the driveway and he gets out. I can see he’s not happy to see me. “It’s for you,” he states handing me his phone as he walks up the steps on his porch. “Sara?” I answer the phone. “Listen here, you little fucker. LEAVE SARAPHINA ALONE, or I’ll tell Jake everything. You put your hands on my sister at least once, I may not of seen it, but she’s never been able to lie to us. I don’t need proof or confirmation,

One year laterSaraphina “Ace, are you sure you can handle this?” I ask him for the hundredth time. “I can postpone returning to work.” “Saraphina, you’ve been on maternity leave for seven months now. I can manage to watch my niece for two hours while you meet with a client,” Ace assures me. He came out to visit for the week, knowing I’ll be going back to work in person. Thankfully, I was able to choose when I work in person, and I choose to meet with clients and potential clients instead of sitting at a desk in the office. I’ve always been good at customer service, which is why the company has worked with me so much during everything that happened last year. “Okay, I’ll have my phone on me. Call if you have any questions.” “Josaphine is going to be fine. I’m a bit hurt you're this worried about trusting me with your daughter,” Ace continues. “I’m sorry. I’m projecting, aren’t I? My therapist said it

One week laterSaraphinaI return to the hotel to oversee the updates to the hotel’s computer system. I prefer to handle all the updates for the bigger clients of the company personally to ensure nothing goes wrong. I was giving the freedom in my contract to handle any client that I sign personally. Honestly it was the clause that convinced me to sign and move instead of resigning.“Good morning, Miss Morgan. You look lovely as always,” Bryson greeted me from the front desk.“Good morning, Mr. Hilton. Are you all set for the system update?”“My staff has been alerted yesterday afternoon and again this morning. We are good to go. How long would you say this update will take?”“No more than 45 minutes for the program update and reboot. Then I will walk you through the new features,” I explain.“Perfect.”The update completes on time, and then the computers at the front desk all begin to restart on their own. As soon as the computers are back online, I begin to show Bryson the new fea

Saraphina I pull dinner off the stove and plate it before bringing it to the table. I’m nervous, wondering if Bryson is going to bail and give me a lame excuse why he can’t make it. I know it’s just my mind playing the ‘why expect anything different from a man?’ card, but honestly, I can’t keep thinking about all the dinners I cooked for Zander through the course of our marriage that always went untouched because something came up, even though he promised he’d be home for dinner. Bryson is not Zander, but I’m so broken I can’t stop comparing every guy I speak with to Zander. When my doorbell rings, I practically jump out of my skin. I walk to the front door and feel a smile spread across my face when I see Bryson standing on my porch with a bouquet. “I’m sorry, I’m a bit late. I couldn’t show up empty-handed,” Bryson stated. “Even if this is just dinner with a friend.” “I’m not sure what this is beyond knowing I couldn’t have surviv