Yvette let out a dramatic gasp, pretending to be concerned. “Oh my, I almost forgot. Eliza hurt her back saving you, didn’t she? Mr. Thompson, you really don’t know how to cherish a woman. How cold-hearted.”
His hand loosened instantly. A shadow crossed his face. “If… if there’s nothing else, you can go.”
I bit down on my lip, trembling, and forced myself upright despite the tearing pain. Then I walked out.
But it was Yvette’s words that cut the deepest.
There were so many ways he could’ve staged an apology. Yet he chose the one that caused me the most physical pain.
Back at my desk, it took a long time before I could even gather the strength to hand my resignation letter to my supervisor.
He had tried to fight for my promotion too, but once Sean said no, there was nothing he could change.
“You’ve contributed seven years to this company,” he said softly. “Mr. Thompson knows that. You’re still young. You’ll have more chances in the future. Are you sure you don’t want to wait a little longer?”
These past years, I’d heard "in the future," "next time," and "wait a little longer" so many times they felt tattooed onto my ears.