Chapter 3

As I pressed send on my resignation email, a sense of liberation washed over me, like a burdensome load had been removed from my shoulders.

In the early hours of the morning, I was in a deep slumber when Emily's call jolted my phone to life.

"Come and get me. I'm still at the same hotel as before," she said.

I could hear the bustling sounds of what was likely another work-related gathering in the background.

In the past, I would have leapt out of bed, thrown on some clothes, and rushed to her aid. This time, however, I simply yawned, my voice relaxed and drowsy.

"Use a ride-hailing app," I suggested. "There should be plenty available in that area."

Emily hesitated, her voice tinged with suspicion. "Are you sleeping?"

"Yes," I answered, unperturbed.

Previously, whenever Emily attended work or networking events, I'd stay awake, anxious about her well-being, unable to rest until she returned home. Tonight, however, I slept soundly.

Her call felt like an unwelcome interruption to my peaceful slumber.

She didn't press the issue further. Approximately half an hour later, she arrived home.

I had just exited the bathroom when our eyes met in the hallway.

"You're awake," she said quietly. "Please make me some noodles. I'm famished."

Her tone was soft, almost pleading. I recognized this as her attempt to extend an olive branch, to smooth over any tension. After arguments, she'd often display vulnerability to reopen communication and bridge the gap between us.

But that strategy only worked because I loved her.

Now that love had eroded completely, and all I felt was annoyance.

"Prepare your own food," I said bluntly. "Or order something if you're not sure how."

I turned to head towards the bedroom, but Emily blocked my path, standing in front of the door.

That's when I detected the faint aroma of Ryan's cologne clinging to her.

"Jake, are you really still upset?" she asked, her voice a mixture of frustration and incredulity.

"I've already clarified this for you—everything I'm doing is for the benefit of the company. Just because we've gone public doesn't mean we can relax. If anything, now's the time to double down on our efforts."

"Ryan may not be the most skilled," she continued, "but he has connections, excels at networking, and his family owns businesses we might partner with in the future. Giving him shares wasn't about favoritism—it was about what's best for the company."

I hadn't anticipated her justifying herself in this manner.

But it made no difference. Whether she believed her own excuses or not, I didn't.

"Mm-hmm," I replied dismissively and entered the bedroom, closing the door behind me.

Emily must have been shocked because she stood outside for a moment before angrily kicking the door. "Fine! Keep acting like this, Jake! But don't come crying to me later when you regret it!"

The following morning, I emerged from the bedroom to find Emily on the couch, meticulously pressing a brand-new suit.

Upon seeing me, she immediately stood up, holding the suit out towards me.

"Here, try this on," she said cheerfully, almost forcing it into my hands.

I recognized it instantly—it was a limited-edition Chanel suit. Not only was it incredibly expensive, but it was also notoriously difficult to obtain. Social media was flooded with posts about how it was the perfect gift for a boyfriend.

I'd even hinted to Emily once that I thought it looked fantastic.

After changing into the suit, I stepped out of the bedroom, feeling an unexpected lump in my throat. I was about to speak, but Emily beat me to it, her tone light and teasing.

"You and Ryan are about the same size. It fits you perfectly, so it should look just as good on him."

She smiled as she carefully removed the jacket from me.

"Be careful not to crease it," she added. "I spent so much time getting it just right."

Then, she folded the suit back into its gift box, looking satisfied with herself, and left with it.

I knew she was doing this deliberately, retaliating for yesterday.

But instead of feeling angry, all I felt was a sense of indifference. It was immature, after all.

Later that morning, I received a call and made my way to the office to finalize my resignation.

The moment I entered the building, I spotted Ryan perched on my desk, surrounded by coworkers fawning over him as if he were the center of attention.

One of them approached me with a smug expression. "Jake, go fetch some coffee for everyone."

"Why?" I asked, glancing at my watch. I wasn't late.

The coworker's grin widened. "Emily said whoever arrives at the office last has to buy everyone coffee. And guess what? You're the last one here."

"Don't worry about it," Ryan interjected, standing up and adjusting the suit jacket he was wearing—the same one Emily had taken that morning.

"I wouldn't want Jake running errands for everyone," he said, his voice loud enough for the whole room to hear. "I'll go instead."

Of course, he made no move to leave.

Right on cue, Emily emerged from her office. Her eyes flicked to Ryan's suit, and for a split second, her expression faltered before she quickly regained composure.

She stepped forward, straightening his collar with a smile. "I knew it would look great on you," she said warmly.

The others erupted into cheers and laughter.

Emily's face flushed slightly as she glanced at me, clearly checking to see if I'd react with jealousy or anger.

But I didn't. My heart was like a placid lake—calm, empty, and unmoved.

Emily didn't seem satisfied with my lack of response. Her tone turned cold as she said, "I already told everyone—whoever arrived last needs to buy coffee. If you're not going to cooperate, why are you even here?"

A coworker pointed at me. "Jake was the last one in."

Emily smirked. "Go on, then. And if you don't, I'll fire you."

Apparently, she hadn't seen my resignation email yet.

I didn't bother hiding it anymore.

"I'm not here to work," I said calmly. "I'm here to resign."