Novel & Cerita Strange Grief Wants To Retire

As the girl walked away, she kept glancing back at Alfred, reluctant to leave. "I'll always support you and Vivian! You have to get married!" Alfred watched them go, then casually dropped a scoop of ice cream onto my plate. "Babe, don't take it to heart. The CEO Falls in Love series on Vivian's socials is blowing up—it's great for the company. You have no idea how happy it makes her. If I shut it down, she'll be upset."

"Grief does strange things to people." "Grief?" I shake my head, a fresh wave of pain washing over me. "You want to talk about grief? You want to know what grief is? Grief is realizing you wasted five years of your life pushing away the one person who truly loved you. Grief is knowing you'll never get a chance to tell her you're sorry. Grief is standing here, listening to your own mother celebrate the death of her daughter-in-law and granddaughter." Her face pales. "I'm not celebrating anything. I'm just... being realistic."

And void accepted their choice. Pack grieved. But differently. Grief mixed with anger. With betrayal. With feeling abandoned. With struggling to understand how anyone could choose to stop fighting. Choose to give up. Choose void. "How could they?" someone demanded. Angry grief. Confused grief. Hurt grief. "How could they just quit? Just give up? Just abandon us?"

"Let me ask you one more time—are you really not going to pay me?" Dustin was left speechless by my retort. "You still want your pay? Dream on! Don't even think about working in this industry again. Now, get lost!" I promptly stood up and slammed the door shut behind me as I walked out. Most of my personal belongings had already been moved out of the office, and whatever remained just wasn't worth taking. I left the company empty-handed, the tension that had been coiled tight inside me finally beginning to loosen. I took out my phone and tapped to stop the recording.

“If I’m your beginning, let her finally rest.” He moved closer until our breaths met. The air between us warmed, the scent of lavender thick around us. His voice dropped, soft but fierce. “I’m trying, Mara. Every day, I try. But grief is a stubborn thing. It doesn’t fade when you fall in love again—it learns to stand beside it.” I swallowed hard, the truth of it cutting both ways. My hands rose to his chest, feeling the steady thrum beneath my palms. “Then teach it to move aside,” I said. “Because I can’t keep loving someone who spends half his heart with the dead.”

This place was her first step to success, a constant reminder of her triumph, how she had won the breakthrough cooking contest. She had poured her heart into her work here, finding a sense of purpose. Now, she was back to say goodbye. Returning to resign from her position there felt bittersweet, but it was necessary. It was all for the best. She began walking towards the kitchen, to see her soon-to-be ex-colleagues. But she halted abruptly, realizing it was better to see the manager first. Letting out a deep sigh, she headed for the stairs leading to the manager’s office. Without hesitating, she pushed the door open and spotted Neil Gomez, the manager.

She sees my inner mind. "Thank you, Goma. I have been hiding away because of my grief. I feel undeserving. So many of my friends didn't reach retirement and here I am... Harvest Champion. I feel as if it should have been them," I admit and she gives me a sad knowing smile.

“You have until midnight to clear out your things, Miss Foster. Business is business.” And three days before that, my employer of two years laid me off via a five-second email. No severance. No warning. Just a digital slip of paper effectively telling me I was no longer needed. My bank account currently sat at a pathetic twelve dollars and forty-three cents. I took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to calm the wild racing of my pulse. You can do this, Scarlett, I told myself, blinking away the tears stinging my eyes. Just get through this interview. You just need one yes. Just one.

As for all those people whom I couldn't bring myself to deal with out of sentiment, Michael handled them one by one without mercy. One of the company's elders, Isaiah Norton, stormed into my office after being called in. He said indignantly, "Ms. Sarandon, these outsiders are pointing fingers at us on our turf. Aren't you going to do anything about it? I've stood with this company through thick and thin for so many years. But now, they want me to retire. I won't accept this!" He breathed heavily, his chest rising and falling. But I remained unmoved as I watched him silently.

I sat on the edge of the bed and held my mother’s cold hand as waves of fear washed over me. Chelsea pushed open the door and walked in. “Get out,” I said in a hoarse voice without looking up. Chelsea paused, then walked to the foot of the bed. Her voice was stiff. “I am here to inform you that Madam Scott was agitated, and her heart rate has not stabilized. Tomorrow’s surgery is canceled. She needs rest and observation.” I stayed silent and held my mother’s hand even tighter. Chelsea looked at my pale face and suddenly sneered. “Jensen, where is your wife? Something happened to your mom, yet your wife did not even bother to come.”