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IT'S BEEN ANOTHER LONG DAY at the office after a brief reprieve last night, complete with a foot massage, gourmet pizza, and a pleasant conversation with Satoru. It's past lunchtime, and my stomach is growling in protest.
After a meeting with a client in the conference room, I step into my office and freeze when I find Naoya sitting at my desk. His hair is disheveled, his eyes bloodshot like he's been sleep-deprived for days, and his white button-up shirt is wrinkled.
He's a far cry from the sharply dressed, accomplished lawyer I fell for. Now, my feelings have turned to pity and frustration at his insistence on trying to hold me back from moving on.
"What are you doing here?" I sigh, hanging my purse on the coat rack in the corner.
He gives me a weary smile as he jumps out of the chair to approach me. "You're back."
"How did you get in?"
"I walked in." He shrugs.
He must have slipped past the front desk while the receptionist was on her lunch break. She wouldn't have allowed him in my office without checking with me first.
"You need to leave," I state firmly, pointing to the door.
I'm sick and tired of the unwelcome men in my life dropping by whenever they please. It's clear that I've allowed things with Naoya to drag on for far too long, and it's time to put an end to it once and for all. Satoru is right; I have to be more direct.
"Come on, don't be like that, baby," Naoya pleads, moving closer. "You haven't responded to most of my texts or calls lately, so I had to visit you in person while I'm in town. Did you like the flowers I sent yesterday?" He glances around, frowning when he doesn't see them.
One silver lining after our breakup was that his law firm relocated him to their New York office, making it much easier to have the space to grieve the loss of our relationship, and his unwelcome advances.
"If I wanted to see you, I would have reached out," I point out. "Can't you see that this is over? Our relationship ended two years ago, and you need to accept that we're never getting back together."
A sense of relief washes over me at finally being able to say those words to his face.
"You don't mean it," he bristles, becoming more agitated. "I made a mistake, baby, but we can move past it. We belong together. Can't you see that?"
He closes the distance between us and I recoil when his hand grazes my arm, not out of fear, but because I find the cold and clammy sensation unpleasant. It's different from Satoru's touch, which is warm and inviting.
"Naoya, this has got to stop. We're never—"
"What. Is. That?" he interrupts, eying my ring with disdain.
