ʀᴇᴡʀɪᴛᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴛᴀʀꜱ

29

The air felt heavy with finality as I made my way to Mrs. Evana's office, each step resonating with the burden of my decision. I was determined to leave the job, a place that had once been a source of solace but now felt like an anchor pulling me deeper into the depths of my sorrow. The office, with its comforting familiarity, seemed foreign to me today. The walls that once held laughter and routine now felt like spectators to my unraveling.

Mrs. Evana looked up from her desk as I entered, her eyes reflecting a blend of concern and curiosity.

"Emily, How are you, dear?" she asked, her voice laced with concern.

I took a deep breath, the weight of my words feeling like lead in my chest. "Mrs. Evana,I am fine, I... I need to resign," I said, my voice trembling despite my efforts to remain composed.  "I need a break, a chance to find myself again"

Her nodded in understanding,"I understand, I am sorry about your mother."

I nodded, though my heart felt like it was crumbling beneath the surface. "I’m sorry if this is sudden or if it causes any inconvenience."

Mrs. Ivana’s gaze softened, and she offered a reassuring smile. "I’m sorry for your loss, Emily. Take the time you need. We’ll manage here. Your well-being is what’s most important right now."

"Thank you" I hugged her.

With a heavy heart, I thanked her and left the office. My next destination was the park—our park. The place where Michael and I had shared so many fragments of our lives, where the echoes of laughter and love still lingered in the rustling leaves and the whispering breeze.

When I arrived, I saw Michael sitting on a bench under the old oak tree, its branches like ancient sentinels watching over us. He looked up as I approached, his expression unreadable, a mixture of emotions flitting across his face.

“Emily,” he whispered, his voice barely carrying over the breeze.

“Michael,” I replied, my voice catching in my throat. I sat down beside him, feeling the weight of silence settle between us.

“I don’t know what’s wrong,” I began, my voice trembling with the effort to stay calm. “If I’ve made any mistakes, if I’ve hurt you in any way, I am deeply sorry. I just... I need to step away from everything. I need a break, a time to heal,I am going back to my hometown and I'm not sure of the future. "

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the promise ring he had given me—a symbol of what we once shared. I placed it gently into his hand, my fingers lingering for a moment before I withdrew.

His gaze remained fixed on the ring, his eyes shadowed with emotions I couldn’t decipher. He didn’t speak, didn’t move, just stared at the small piece of metal that once held so much meaning for us.

I wiped at the tears that had begun to fall unchecked. “Goodbye, Michael,” I said softly, my voice breaking as I stood and turned away.

I walked back to my car, each step feeling like a farewell to more than just a relationship—it was a farewell to a piece of my soul, to a chapter of my life that was closing with a weighty finality. As I drove home, the city lights blurred through my tears, the sobs racking my body like waves crashing against the shore.

When I arrived, the apartment felt emptier than ever. I hurried to my room, collapsing onto the bed as the tears continued to flow, each sob a reminder of the love lost and the sorrow that remained. The hours passed in a haze of grief and exhaustion until Olivia’s gentle knock on my door roused me from my solitude.

“Come in,” I called, my voice barely audible.

Olivia stepped in, her expression soft with concern. she said, sitting beside me on the bed. “How did it go with Michael?”

“It was... difficult,” I said, my voice thick with emotion.

Olivia nodded, her eyes glistening with sympathy. “I’m glad you did what you needed to do. But let’s focus on taking care of you now. Have you packed everything you need?"

“Yes,” I said, my voice barely more than a whisper.

“Good,” Olivia said, her voice steady despite the sadness in her eyes. “I’ve made your favorite for dinner. Would you come with me?”

As she spoke, the weight of the day’s events hit me anew. I started crying again, the tears flowing freely as I embraced Olivia. Her arms wrapped around me, her own eyes moist with unshed tears. We stood there for a moment, two souls finding solace in each other’s presence.

Over dinner, the conversation drifted to lighter topics, though the heaviness of our shared grief lingered. We spoke of my mother—of her life, her love, and the indelible mark she had left on my heart. Olivia listened intently, offering gentle encouragement as I recounted the fragments of my memories.

“She was my mom,” I said softly, a sad smile playing at my lips. “Despite everything, the disappointment, the struggles... she was my mom. We had a bond that was beautiful and rare, before my father passed away.”

Olivia’s understanding nod was a balm to my wounded spirit. We continued to eat, our conversation winding through shared memories and heartfelt reflections. As the night deepened, I felt a flicker of peace, a fragile comfort in the midst of all that had transpired.