The Promotion

Chapter Twelve

I had to get out of that building.

The air felt thick, suffocating, as though it had weight. My chest tightened, my lungs struggling to pull in oxygen, and it felt as if my insides were being crushed from every direction at once. Panic surged through me. I needed space. I needed air. I needed away.

I bolted down the stairs, barely registering the steps beneath my feet. My heel caught on one of them and I stumbled, catching myself just in time. Behind me, I heard Calum shout my name, his voice frantic.

"Louisa!"

I didn't look back. I couldn't. I didn't want to hear him. I didn't want to see him. I didn't want him anywhere near me.

I burst out onto the street, the cold air hitting me like a tidal wave. It burned my lungs, but I welcomed it. My legs shook beneath me, weak and unsteady, and I bent slightly at the waist, gasping for breath. Tears blurred my vision until everything became a smear of light and colour. One by one, they spilled over, sliding down my cheeks uncontrollably.

"Louisa! Wait!" Calum yelled, breathless as he ran after me.

"NO!" I screamed, spinning around and thrusting my arm out between us. "Don't touch me!"

He froze, hands raised slightly, his face pale.

"It's not what it looks like—"

I laughed bitterly, the sound breaking apart as it left my throat. "Not what it looks like? To me, it looked like you were about to let another woman pleasure you."

My voice cracked, rage and grief tangling together. Tears streamed freely now, soaking into my collar.

"Please," he said, shame colouring his voice. "Let me explain."

"Oh, please do," I cried. "I would love to hear this."

"I've just been stressed," he began weakly. "Things haven't been good between us. We weren't sleeping together. I was frustrated—"

"And you think I wasn't?" I snapped, cutting him off. "That's your excuse? Frustration?"

"Louisa, I—"

"How long?" I demanded sharply.

He hesitated.

"How long?" I repeated, pointing at him. "And don't lie to me."

His gaze dropped to the pavement. My heart pounded violently as I waited.

"A few months," he muttered.

"How many?" I pressed, my voice eerily calm now.

"...About five."

The words slammed into me like a physical blow.

Five months.

The world went quiet. I stared straight ahead, numb, the words echoing endlessly in my mind.

"I just want to know why," I said softly, finally finding my voice again. "I loved you. I stood by you. And you did this."

"I had needs," he said, looking up at me. "I'm sorry."

Something inside me snapped.

I laughed—sharp, hysterical, hollow. "And you think I didn't? While you were off satisfying yourself with other women, I was worrying about you. Caring about you. Loving you."

He said nothing.

My mind flashed to the kiss with Alexander. Guilt flickered briefly—but it was swallowed whole by the enormity of what Calum had done.