The Promotion

Chapter Thirty

It became painfully clear to me just how much I loved working.

Alexander insisting I take time off had sounded thoughtful at first, almost protective—but in reality, it felt like a punishment I hadn't earned. Days stretched endlessly, each one blending into the next. I would catch myself staring into nothing, rereading the same sentence over and over, folding laundry that didn't need folding, yawning through hours that refused to move forward.

Time dragged when I wasn't busy.

This should have been the perfect opportunity to throw myself into wedding planning. The venue was booked, the date set, the guest list half-formed—but the rest of it? I couldn't bring myself to care. Choosing flowers alone felt hollow. Looking at dresses without excitement felt wrong. Everything about it felt like something I was meant to want, not something I actually did.

It was strange how quickly things had shifted.

Calum was the one leaving early every morning now, dressed neatly, keys in hand, rushing out with purpose. I was the one staying behind, wandering aimlessly through the apartment, doing nothing of substance.

One morning, without really thinking it through, I followed him.

It wasn't my proudest moment, but a quiet, gnawing doubt had lodged itself in my chest. Once before, Calum had broken my trust. I told myself I was just reassuring myself—nothing more.

He kissed me goodbye, smiled, and left.

I waited a few seconds before grabbing my keys and slipping out behind him, keeping a careful distance as I followed his car through the familiar streets. My shoulders were tight the entire time, my grip on the steering wheel rigid.

Then I saw it.

The call centre. The sign. The revolving doors.

Calum parked, stepped out of his car, and walked straight inside without hesitation.

I sagged back against my seat, a breathy, almost hysterical laugh escaping my lips.

God, I felt awful.

He really did have a job.

Guilt washed over me in thick, heavy waves. I had doubted him—for no reason other than my own insecurity. I sat there for a moment longer, watching people pass by, before finally driving home with a knot of shame twisting in my stomach.

⸻

A few days later, the morning greeted me gently.

The sky was a soft, endless blue, streaked with slow-moving white clouds drifting lazily across it. Sunlight spilled through the windows, warming the apartment in a way that felt almost hopeful.

I decided to clean.

Not because the apartment needed it—but because I did.

I pulled on black joggers and an oversized grey sweatshirt, tied my hair into a messy bun, and snapped on a pair of rubber gloves. The moment I started scrubbing the kitchen counters, I realised how aggressively I was cleaning—pressing too hard, moving too fast.

I needed the distraction.

From what, I wasn't ready to admit.

The door opened and Calum walked in, whistling, his mood perfectly in sync with the brightness of the day.

"Hey—guess what?" he said cheerfully, leaning in to kiss my forehead.

I hummed in response, my attention fixed on the counter beneath my hands.

"I've booked our honeymoon," he announced proudly. "Straight after the ceremony, we're flying to Paris."

I froze.