I’d just sealed another major client for the company, yet, once again, my promotion fell through. I felt a fierce indignation bubbling up inside me. I was about to confront my boss – who was also my boyfriend – and demand an explanation. But as I reached his office door, I overheard him talking to a friend: “Skylar is so capable, why aren’t you letting her get promoted?” Adrian let out a mocking laugh. “Skylar? She’s just a fling, a bed warmer. What real ‘capabilities’ could she possibly have? That promotion is earmarked for Camilla.” “Aren’t you afraid she’ll leave if she finds out the truth?” Adrian laughed even louder this time: “She practically begs me not to use protection in bed. You think she’d ever walk away from this?” I clutched the promotion application in my trembling hand, crushing the papers. I called my mom. “That marriage you mentioned? I’m in!” Camilla snatched the document from my hand. “Skylar, you’ve failed five times already. You seriously think you’ll get promoted now?” She scoffed, flicking shredded paper onto my face. “Lack of ability. You could apply a hundred times, it wouldn’t matter!” Lack of ability? In seven years, I’d closed six multi-million dollar deals for the company. I’d been the top performer for thirteen consecutive quarters. I’d even landed in the ER twice with stomach hemorrhages from fixing my colleagues’ messes. No client I’d ever worked with had called me incompetent. Every time before, I’d get into it with Camilla about my competence. But now, I was just tired. It would just end up in front of Adrian, and I’d get some wishy-washy, half-hearted remark. “Past performance isn’t relevant. If your overall capabilities aren’t up to par, you just have to accept it.” Then, under his smooth persuasion, I’d go back to working my butt off, closing deals, desperate to prove myself. All while fulfilling his goal of getting high returns with minimal investment in me. Only now did I realize that the one who received the least fair treatment was myself. Adrian, you truly played your cards perfectly, didn’t you? Tears, uncontrolled, splattered onto my phone screen. *Ding-dong*. The screen lit up. [Come to my office.] My quieted heart fluttered, clinging to a fragile flicker of hope. Until I reached his door and heard Camilla’s muffled sobs from inside. “It’s okay, stop crying. I said you deserve it, and you do. I’ll take care of her.” Adrian’s gentle, patient tone was like a dull knife twisting in my heart, gutting me, tearing open old, festering wounds. Six months ago, when Camilla spread rumors that I slept my way to contracts, and I ended up getting beaten black and blue by a jealous wife who thought I was the other woman, unable to stomach anything but liquids for two days— I’d looked at him with the same aggrieved expression, pleading for him to clear my name. But he had only left me with one sentence. “You’re not new to the corporate world, you know you can’t be so delicate and naive.” A bitter taste spread through the fresh wounds. I had to admit, his affections hadn’t truly meant much to me either. I pushed open the door, feeling numb. Adrian’s hand, wiping Camilla’s tears, froze. He looked at me with displeasure. “I hear you’re unhappy about Director Camilla’s promotion? Has no one ever told you that the workplace isn’t about being articulate? Is it really that hard to admit someone’s more skilled?” I stared, stunned. “I didn’t…” He cut me off before I could finish. “A thousand-word apology letter, and a public apology at the afternoon staff meeting.” He demanded an apology letter and a public apology for an unverified complaint. It made all the real rumors that reached his ears, only to be ignored, seem like a cruel joke. Before, I could still comfort myself by thinking he kept his professional and personal lives separate. But after realizing I was nothing more than his cheapest labor, an expendable asset, I didn’t even have the courage to argue. I swallowed the bitterness, lowered my gaze, and forced a light laugh. “Yes, you’re absolutely right.” “I admit I’m less skilled. I apologize.”
I gave a small, forced bow to Camilla. “Director Camilla, I was wrong. I shouldn’t have questioned your abilities, and I shouldn’t have foolishly hoped for a review of my application.” She didn’t respond for a long time. Just as I was about to look up, Adrian pressed down on my lower back, hard. He leaned close to my ear, his voice a low whisper. “I promised her father I wouldn’t let her feel slighted. Just take it for her, play along.” He pushed my back down a few more inches, and a searing pain shot through me. Yes, Camilla’s father had helped him once. He owed her father, I get it. He’s repaying a debt. But what about me? Once, while accompanying him on a site inspection, a machine malfunctioned. Without a second thought, I rushed forward to shield him, taking the brunt of it. A control lever slammed into my lower back, causing a severe, lasting injury. Back then, he’d looked at me with red eyes, calling me reckless. He’d massaged my back every single day for my recovery. But now, he was pressing down on the very back I’d injured for him, forcing me to apologize to the person who had wronged me. What a pathetic way to repay a debt. Those brief ten seconds stretched out like an eternity. When I finally looked up again, my back felt like it had snapped; I could barely straighten. Camilla gasped, feigning concern as she looked at me. “Oh, I almost forgot, Skylar got that back injury for Adrian. Adrian, you really don’t know how to show compassion. It’s so disheartening!” Adrian’s hand suddenly released me, his gaze clouded. “N-nothing else. You can go.” I bit down on my lip, my jaw trembling. Gritting my teeth, I forced my spine straight against the tearing pain and walked out. Camilla’s words were the most painful. There were so many ways to make me apologize, to “play along.” But he chose the one that would cause me the most physical pain. It took me a long time to recover at my desk before I had the strength to hand my drafted resignation letter to my supervisor. He had tried his best to fight for me regarding the failed promotion. But Adrian’s “no” was something he couldn’t overturn. “You’ve given seven years to this company, Adrian knows your contributions deep down. You’re still young, there are many more opportunities ahead. Are you sure you don’t want to wait a bit longer?” “These years,” “ahead,” “next time,” and “wait a bit longer” had practically become etched into my ears. It was “next time” whenever I asked Adrian when we could go public with our relationship after our intimate moments. It was “wait a bit longer” every time I failed to get a promotion and asked when I’d have a chance to stand beside him. It was “next time” whenever my parents pressured me to get married, and I asked him when he’d come home to meet them. I never doubted my own resolve, but I couldn’t change the outcome he’d already planned for me. I shook my head, smiling faintly, helplessly. “Twenty-eight isn’t that young anymore. My peers are already married with kids. I can’t keep failing to hold onto my health, my career, or a family, can I?” He said nothing, looking at my pale face. He signed his name with a sigh of regret. “You can leave after you finish your hand-off this week.” “I won’t tell Adrian yet, to spare you any trouble these next few days. Besides, your current position doesn’t require you to report directly to him.” I finally breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Marcus.” After submitting the form, a message from Adrian popped up on my phone. [How’s your back? I bought some ointment, I’ll rub it in for you tonight.] This was his usual way of acknowledging he’d gone too far without actually apologizing. It was his subtle olive branch. I used to think this was his way of showing affection, and I’d even playfully flirt back. Now, I saw it for what it was: just a sugar cube to keep me from slipping out of his control. [No need to trouble yourself. I’ve already booked a massage therapist to come over.] According to company tradition, promotions were usually celebrated with a team dinner, hosted by the management. I used my pre-booked massage as a polite excuse to decline. But then, Camilla, with a wounded expression, tugged at my arm. “Is Skylar upset that I got the promotion over her? Is that why you’re making excuses?” “Anyone else can miss it, but not you. I really want your sincere blessing.” My brows furrowed, and I was about to speak. Adrian, who had just tacitly approved my leaving, now chimed in. “Everyone else is going, so it’s not right for you to skip it, is it? Don’t be so petty. As a senior employee, you should be able to let things go. Don’t make a scene.” “When can’t you get a massage?” I froze, a bitter pang twisting in my gut. I should have recognized Adrian’s cold indifference long ago. My feelings would always be secondary to greater interests.
When I was twenty-three, my second year away from home, he promised to spend our first birthday together. I cooked with a heart full of joy and waited for him all night. When I called him and mentioned it was my birthday, I heard a girl crying in the background. He offered no apology, no explanation, only a slight rebuke that I shouldn’t treat a birthday as such a big deal. Camilla’s mother had died during childbirth. Whenever she heard someone mention a birthday, she’d think of her mother and become sad. For the next five years, he never celebrated my birthday. Nor did he allow me to post birthday photos, claiming it would upset Camilla. Yet, when he wasn’t visible, he wouldn’t put in any effort for me either. Now, catching my supervisor’s cautionary gaze, I decided one less complication was always better. I’d treat it as my farewell dinner with everyone. At the dinner table, the two of them sat together. Camilla, in her chic business suit, looked perfectly matched with Adrian in his crisp suit. Sometimes, you just have to recognize the reality: some people, no matter how hard you chase, you’ll never catch up. So, when a colleague jokingly commented on how well they looked together, I nodded in agreement. “Yes, they’re quite a match. Their age, looks, and family backgrounds are all perfectly aligned.” The moment the words left my lips, Adrian and Marcus, the VP he’d been discussing me with earlier, both froze. Normally, in such situations, Adrian would inevitably be drawn into comparisons. Every time I heard such teasing, I always felt uncomfortable. I’d either pretend not to hear, staying silent, or just scowl. But today, I felt like an indifferent observer. Camilla, pleased with the compliments, shot me a triumphant look. Finally, when someone brought up the topic of marriage, she directed the conversation my way. “My dad’s been pressuring me to get married so much, it’s driving me crazy! I heard Skylar has a boyfriend you’ve been with for years but haven’t married. You’re twenty-eight, don’t your family pressure you? Tell me, how do you avoid the marriage talk?” Curious gazes turned to me. Even Adrian looked visibly tense. I feigned indifference. “Of course they do, but I’ve already broken up. So, I can’t really answer that question for you.” A moment of frozen silence followed. Many people looked at me with pity. Some of my closer colleagues joked about setting me up with someone. I pulled out my phone. “Sounds good. Send them my way.” *Bang!* Adrian’s glass shattered. Tiny shards of glass left fine red marks on his hand. I only glanced at it before looking away. No longer like before, where I’d be more anxious than anyone. The atmosphere at the dinner table turned strangely awkward. What began as a lively meal ended abruptly. I refused to share a ride with Adrian, who just happened to be assigned to the same car. I showed him my phone, where I’d already called my own ride. I went home alone. Just as I was about to relax, my door flew open. Adrian, reeking of alcohol, shoved me against the door. He kissed me fiercely, desperately, as if he couldn’t wait another second. He was desperate to push his way into me. My lower back slammed against the doorknob. A jolt of pain made me gasp, and I slapped him across the face. “Adrian, what do you take me for?” He stormed out, slamming the door. In five years, we’d never had this kind of unspoken tension, this direct confrontation. So, when he suddenly realized I was actually angry, Adrian didn’t bother pretending to care anymore. He assigned me to supervise the construction site in Northwood. When word got around, many colleagues spoke up for me. The Northwood project was unpaid rework on a project that hadn’t met specifications, and the temporary workers were furious. During the day, there were falling debris and nails sticking out everywhere. At night, relentless calls would harass them. They couldn’t ignore them, but going there would lead to strange and unsettling occurrences. Three male colleagues before me couldn’t handle it; they either ended up in psychiatric care from the trauma or hospitalized with injuries. Let alone a woman. Adrian had been dealing with this problem late into the nights, woken by those male colleagues. I’d once joked that if I ever disliked someone, I’d send them there. Or if we ever argued, I’d go there myself, out of sight, out of mind. Back then, he’d tapped my head, saying it was impossible; he’d never send me to such a dangerous place, no matter how much we fought. Yet, he still sent me. I packed up my desk belongings at lightning speed. Clean, efficient, as if I were never coming back.
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