The days moved like pages in a soft, quiet book—full of little moments that felt like forever..... peaceful.
Rowan had started doing things I never thought he would. He cooked breakfast on Saturdays, even if it was just scrambled eggs and toast. He took naps with his head on my thighs, soft snores muffled by the hum of the office heater. He left messages on sticky notes like "You looked good in that shirt" or "Missed you at lunch."
We danced once. No music. Just the sound of rain against the windows and my phone buzzing with a playlist I barely remembered queuing. He took my hand and twirled me around the room, all warmth and laughter.
I was falling—fast, deep, and without hesitation.
And he was catching me. Or so I thought.
As Christmas approached, I decorated our little space with gold string lights and paper snowflakes. I made him promise we'd spend Christmas together—just the two of us. He agreed without hesitation.
"Your place," he said. "Let's do it there this time."
I grinned. "You? Leaving this fortress?"
"For you?" he murmured. "Always."
And so we made plans. I told Talia I'd be out early on Christmas Eve. She winked and said, "Don't forget some mistletoe."
Christmas morning came.
I cleaned my apartment twice. Cooked. Laid out gifts under the tiny tree he'd helped me decorate.
But he didn't come.
I waited.
I called. No answer.
I texted. Nothing.
Evening fell, and the food went cold. I sat on the couch in silence, phone in hand, checking it every few minutes even though no notifications came.
He never showed up.
The lights on the tree blinked quietly. I stared at the gift I'd wrapped for him—a book he mentioned in passing, one I had to special-order. It sat unopened on the table beside two untouched wine glasses.
Something inside me tightened. A flicker of fear. Or doubt.
But I held on.
He'd call.
He had to.
The night felt longer than any I'd ever known.
I didn't blow out the candles. I didn't touch the food. I just sat there, staring at the door like maybe, just maybe, he'd walk in and say it was all a mistake. That he got held up. That he forgot his phone. That he was sorry. I didn't really care what excuse he'd probably give, I just wanted him to be here.
But hours passed. Midnight came. Christmas was over.
I lay on the couch, still dressed in the soft green sweater he once said made me look "too good to be trusted." The lights blinked softly behind me. My phone stayed silent.
No call. No text. Nothing.
I told myself not to panic.
But the truth is—I wasn't just worried.
I was hurt.
This wasn't like him. Rowan might've been cold to others, sharp, quiet, distant—but not with me. Never with me.
Until now.
The next morning, I didn't even change out of the sweater. I sat on the floor with the blanket wrapped around my shoulders, looking at the half-open gift I meant to give him. I picked it up, ran my fingers over the paper, then held it to my chest.
Talia came by later that afternoon. I'd told her not to, but she showed up anyway—with hot cocoa, extra marshmallows, and no questions.
She just sat beside me, it was warm and quiet.
"You okay?" she asked softly.
I didn't answer. Just nodded once.
We didn't talk much. She didn't push.
But her being there mattered.
Because somewhere deep down, something in me had started to break.
And I wasn't sure if Rowan would be the one to fix it.
---
It took me four days to finally return to work.
Four slow, silent days where I replayed every second of Christmas, wondering what I did wrong. Wondering why he didn't show. Why he disappeared. Why he still hadn't explained.
The office felt colder than usual. People moved past me like ghosts. I sat at my desk, eyes fixed on the screen, pretending I was okay.
Around noon, a message popped up.
Rowan: Come to my office.
My heart jumped. I stood too quickly, palms sweating. Maybe now he'd explain. Maybe there was a reason—something serious.
I walked in quietly. He was standing by the window, staring out at the city like he couldn't feel the storm inside me.
"I'm sorry," he said without looking at me.
Just two words?!
Nothing more.
"That's it?" I asked, voice small.
He nodded once. Still not looking at me.
I left without saying anything else. My chest ached. My eyes burned. I felt stupid for hoping. Almost without realizing I could see he had an airpod on his ear...."was he on a call or something?"
That night, I couldn't sleep. I stared at the ceiling and asked myself the question I didn't want to say out loud: were we even together?
The next morning, I made up my mind.
I wanted an answer, I didn't know how to ask but I felt I had to.
I walked into his office. He didn't even glance up at first. It seemed he had just gotten off a phone call
"Can we talk?" I asked.
He looked up. Cold eyes.
"About what?" he said.
"Us," I whispered. "Are we ... something?"
He leaned back in his chair, with a blank expression. And then he scoffed.
I could feel my heart peel.
"You think this was real?" he said, laughing dryly.
I blinked, confused. "What... what do you mean?"
"You really thought someone like me could be with you?" he said, eyes sharp now. "God, you're so naive. I'm not surprised though."
His words hit like slaps. I froze.
"I used you, Jules. How could I have just hooked up with an employee on his first all for the sake of love?!.... that's absurd. You were a bet. A joke. That's all."
I stared at him. My heart cracked in places I didn't know existed.
"You're not my type," he added. "You were convenient. That's it."
I couldn't breathe. My chest felt like it was caving in.
I didn't cry. Not there. Not in front of him.
I should've walked away.
I should've let it end with the cruel words.
But something inside me still needed to understand. Still needed answers.
So I stood there, shaking, and asked, "If you didn't care… if this was all just a game… why did you bring me to your secret office? Why let me stay there? Why not just take me to some hotel or your regular place?"
He looked at me then. Just for a second.
And then… nothing.
No answer.
He turned his gaze back to his desk like I wasn't even there.
That silence said everything.
I swallowed hard, my chest tight.
Rowan leaned forward, picked up a file, and said coldly, "You're fired, Jules."
My stomach dropped.
"What?"
"You heard me," he said, voice flat. "You're free to go. Do whatever else you want. I don't care."
He didn't even look up.
I stood frozen for a second before I slowly backed out of his office. My legs felt numb, it felt like the ground was somehow going to swallow me up, but I somehow made it out of the building. Past the lobby. Through the glass doors.
Then I sat on the curb right outside the company and… I broke. I cracked in every bit of me. I didn't just cry....I felt miserable.
I couldn't hold it in anymore.
I cried.
Not just tears—full, broken sobs. The kind that left your body shaking. The kind that made your chest ache and your eyes swell.
People walked past. No one stopped.
I didn't care.
I stayed there for hours. I didn't even remember the time. I just remember the sky starting to darken.
And then I heard someone say my name.
"Jules?!"
I looked up through blurry eyes. Talia.
She dropped her bag the second she saw me and rushed over.
"Oh my God," she whispered, kneeling down beside me. "What happened?"
I couldn't even talk. I just cried harder.
She wrapped her arms around me and held me like I was falling apart—I was.
Later, she called a taxi and helped me into it. She rode with me all the way to my apartment.
And when we got inside, I collapsed onto the couch, still shaking.
"I really thought…" I choked out, barely able to speak. "I really thought there was something between us. I thought it was real."
Talia held my hand and rubbed my back.
"He doesn't deserve you," she whispered.
But that didn't stop the pain.
Nothing could stop the pain.
Not yet.