Chapter 4

I sat on the sidewalk outside the office, my severance notification buzzing on my phone, and called Zachary.

The moment he answered, I burst into tears.

"It's happened again. Just like yesterday. I don't understand why everyone is treating me this way. I haven't done anything. I swear I haven't."

His voice softened immediately.

"Hey, it's okay. I'm putting work aside and coming back to you. This is my fault, too. I shouldn't have left you alone after what happened yesterday. Don't cry, sweetheart. I'll be there soon."

He immediately sent me his flight details. He'd land around five that afternoon.

"You don't need to pick me up. We'll go straight to dinner."

"Are you sure? I don't want you to put your work on hold because of me."

Zachary smiled affectionately. "Isn't that what having a boyfriend is for? If I can't be there when you're hurting, what's the point of having me? I'll handle things on my end. Don't worry. I'm not giving up on either my career or you."

There was something reassuring about the way he spoke. For the first time that day, I could breathe without feeling like the world was closing in on me.

But before I went home, I did one thing first.

I called the office.

I asked for the IT help desk and said I needed to check the timestamp on my departure email from HR. The technician sounded bored, but he pulled up the record.

"Sent at eight forty-two this morning."

I had walked into the conference room at nine. That meant the email existed before Mrs. Harper ever looked me in the eye and fired me.

I asked one more question: had there been any other company-wide or department messages sent this morning from outside the usual system?

He hesitated. Then he said, "There was one from an external address. It went to the department at eight thirty-six. We flagged it, but it wasn't from a company domain, so it didn't hit the main inbox."

I asked him to forward it to my personal email.

He said he couldn't do that.

But he did tell me one thing: the message had gone out to the whole department before I arrived. That was why my coworkers hadn't looked surprised. That was why the word had been waiting for me.

I hung up and sat there for a long moment.

Then I started searching for a restaurant with a private dining room where Zachary and I could talk without being disturbed.

Messages from our mutual friends started flooding my phone.

[See you tonight, sis. Don't be sad. Zach won't want to see you upset.]

[We're all coming tonight. Let's have some fun and forget about work.]

[You're one of the most capable people I know. Your company is the one losing out by firing you. You'll do great wherever you go.]

One message after another came in. Their kindness made me feel a little less miserable.

I gathered my things and got a ride back to the apartment. Then I lay down to rest.

When it was time to get ready for dinner, Chloe came home. I reached for her hand and leaned against her shoulder.

"I got fired today."

"What?" She looked genuinely confused. "Have you been having a streak of bad luck lately? Maybe I should take you to church this weekend. A little prayer couldn't hurt."

I sighed and leaned against her again. "At least I still have you."

Then I remembered the dinner plans.

"I'm taking you out tonight. A bunch of our friends will be there. Do you want to come?"

Chloe agreed immediately.

"Of course! You invited me. How could I say no?"

She gave my hand a reassuring squeeze.

"Now, stop looking so down. You're talented, beautiful, and way too good at your job to let one bad day get you down. Their loss, seriously."

I couldn't help smiling. "Thanks, Chloe."

"Come on. Let's get you dressed up. You deserve a fun night."

I went to my dresser, picked up my usual perfume, and gave my wrists and neck a quick spritz. Then I checked my reflection, grabbed my purse, and headed for the door.

Chloe and I got a cab to the restaurant. Our friends were already waiting in the private dining room. We chatted for a while, but my attention kept drifting to the door.

It wasn't until six-thirty that someone finally knocked. I immediately got up to answer it.

A huge bouquet of flowers filled my entire field of vision.

Camellias.

My favorite flowers.

I'd struggled with severe nasal problems for years, and after surgery, I'd completely lost my sense of smell.

But that didn't stop me from loving flowers. Just seeing my favorites made me happy.

Zachary stood at the back of the group, smiling at me.

"I love you, Sylvia."

I pushed past everyone and ran straight into his arms.

"I love you, too."

But Zachary didn't return my embrace. Instead, he shoved me away with both hands. I stumbled backward. One of our friends caught me just before I hit the floor.

I stared at Zachary, unable to believe what had just happened.

"I never thought you were this kind of woman!"

His face was twisted with anger. The veins in his neck stood out.

I started trembling.

"Zachary, what are you talking about? What did I do?"

He let out a cold laugh. "Don't act like you have no idea."

I looked around at our friends, hoping someone would explain what was going on. But no one said a word.

"Please, just tell me what's happening. Yesterday, Wendy called me a slut. Mark did the same thing. Today, people at work called me that, too. And now you?"

My voice began to shake.

"Why? What did I do to deserve this?"

Zachary pointed toward the door.

"Get out. I never want to see you again. We're done. We're breaking up!"

Then he grabbed the enormous bouquet and hurled it at me. The flowers struck my body.

Petals scattered across the floor.

I didn't duck. I didn't cry.

I looked at Zachary, and for the first time, I didn't ask what I had done wrong.

"Fine," I said. "You won't tell me why. Then say it in front of everyone. What do you think I did?"

The private dining room went silent.

He opened his mouth.

I held his gaze. "Go on. What exactly do you believe I did to deserve that word? Say it out loud. In front of all of us."

For the first time, the anger on his face faltered.

Then he spoke.

"I saw the messages. From your number. To other men. You sent photos. You said you were tired of me."

I didn't turn around. My hand was still on the door handle.

"You called me a slut in front of all our friends. Now tell them what you think I did."

For a moment, all I could hear was the scrape of a chair behind me.

Then Zachary opened his mouth.

"I saw the messages."