AND RED

I returned to work that week with no real intention of staying. My decision had been made; I was only there to deliver my resignation and see out my notice period with as much composure as I could muster.

As Mr. Hak has been absent for a few days, I have to wait until he comes back to the office. So today, the letter was folded neatly in my hand as I made my way to Song Hak Seng's office.

Song Hak Seng, the CFO, was at his desk, immersed in a sea of papers, his brow furrowed in concentration. I paused outside his door, steeling myself, adjusting my posture, and bracing for the confrontation. With a quick knock, I announced my presence.

He glanced up, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. I wondered how I still had the nerve to stand there, confronting him as if I hadn't already decided to walk away.

"Come in," he said simply.

I stepped inside, the resignation letter clutched tightly in my hand, and placed it carefully on his desk. His eyes scanned the document briefly before flicking back to me, sharp and questioning. 

"What is this?" he asked, though the answer was obvious.

"My resignation letter," I replied, my voice steady despite the tension in the room.

He leaned back in his chair, considering me with an unreadable expression. 

"Hmm… You don't need to do that. Just focus on working. There's a lot that needs to be done."

"I can't," I said firmly. "Sorry."

His gaze narrowed slightly, and a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. 

"Why? Are you ashamed?"

"I didn't—" I began, but he cut me off with a low chuckle.

The sound caught me off guard—mocking, dismissive. It lingered in the air, a reminder that he thought he still held control over the situation.

"So… Can we forget it? Just let it go," he said, trying to keep his tone neutral. "I didn't want to push this further and make things difficult for you."

"I won't," I replied with a voice sharp and resolute.

He hesitated, searching for the right words. 

"Maybe you don't need it—whatever this is. That's fine. But I said I wouldn't mind it anymore… umm, maybe what I said before was a bit off, and it upset you."

"Why are you letting go so easily?" I asked, as if using my eyes narrowing as if testing him.

"Are you not satisfied?" he shot back. "You seem like you want this to go even further."

"I'm just curious," I said. He leaned back slightly, his gaze fixed on me.

"You don't need to know," He snapped, cutting me off.

 "Is it because of Solin?" I asked. 

He tilted his head, his expression shifting.

"What?" The name felt like a weight, heavy and unexpected. "Why is she involved?"

"Let's deal man to man," I said, as he was standing up suddenly, his posture tense. I added it quickly.

"I don't need your mercy, but don't take your cruelty out on her."

Unease rippled through me as I met his glare. 

"What did I do wrong?" he demanded.

"I don't need to answer that," I replied coldly.

He exhaled sharply, his frustration evident. 

"You're such a troublemaker."

"Don't pressure her," I said firmly. "And play fair with me."

He laughed bitterly, shaking his head. 

"I will do whatever it takes to get her back. I didn't harm anyone. Is that wrong?"

"By throwing a trap?" I shot back, the accusation hanging heavy between us.

"Hush! Traps?" he sneered, his voice low but cutting. "You seem to know a lot about us. Don't tell me… are you? Don't tell me she cheated on me with you. No, that doesn't make sense… I don't think it works that way."

"Bastard," I muttered, my fists clenching.

He smirked, unfazed by my insult.

"Let me tell you something," he began, leaning forward with a deliberate air. "I saved her parents' business, so they could let her go. I've done my best to win her back. She's my precious. Do you even know what she really wants? Freedom! I gave it to her!"

"Freedom! Piss off, sh*t! You set her in your cage and dared to call it freedom? you are such a psycho, twisted dictator!" 

He paid no heed to my words, his resolve unshaken as he continued to spout whatever nonsense he pleased, completely deaf to the truth I was screaming within, desperate to be heard.

"She's angry at me, sure, but that's because she's been living under her parents' thumb, they forced her to marry a guy she didn't know about, she gave up everything—including her dream career—to help them. That's why I have to fix it now. I have to bring it all back so I can give it to her. She'll understand."

His words hit hard, each one more deliberate than the last. Solin had mentioned her love for painting and design once, a passion she abandoned for the sake of her family. I hadn't realized how much of that sacrifice had been tied to him.

"She lost some hope in me and became confused." he continued, his voice softer now, almost reflective. "But that's why I've let her relax, let her take a break. Don't you get it?" He chuckled bitterly, leaning back in his chair. 

"You're stupid if you think she'll stop loving me. Almost five years, we've been together. We're getting married soon. Did she tell you that? She must have, considering you're one of her 'friends."

I froze, his words a cold slap to the face. My silence said more than I wanted it to.

He leaned closer, his tone turning sharp again. 

"That's why it's fine if you keep working here. She won't be. The company doesn't allow married couples to work together, after all."

I felt a weight pressing against my chest, my thoughts scrambled, words caught in my throat. He watched me, his smirk triumphant, as though he had already won.

Hak finished his words, his tone final, and left the office without another glance at me. The door shut behind him, but his words lingered, echoing in my mind. Five years. Marriage. She told you, didn't she?

What about me? I stood frozen, my legs too heavy to move, my thoughts too jumbled to form coherence. It couldn't be true. It wasn't true. God, please let it be a lie. Song Hak Seng must have been lying to me.

I could barely breathe. My chest felt tight, the air refusing to fill my lungs. Panic clawed at my insides as I stumbled toward the elevator, desperate to find her, to hear the truth from her lips.

As soon as the elevator doors opened on the 15th floor, I bolted toward her apartment. My hands shook as I pressed the doorbell, the sound sharp and shrill against the suffocating silence. I waited. No answer.

I pressed again, holding it longer this time. Still nothing. My mind raced, my chest tightening with every passing second. I reached for the keypad and typed in the password, but it was wrong. Again, I tried. Incorrect.

My hand fumbled for my phone, and I dialed her number. The line buzzed, static and unreadable, like the universe itself was conspiring to keep her away from me.

Continued...