Temptress

48|My Karma

Elliot's POV

I stared blankly at the white wall as my director answered the interviewer's questions.

Life is good.

Or it should be at least.

The company is breaking record after record and it's only been two months.

This is what I've wanted, but I'm just not happy.

I miss her.

According to an old PI buddy of mine, she moved to Maine and is gardening and shit.

She's doing better without me.

I should be happy.

I should be relieved that she's found the peace she was always chasing, that she's finally living the life she eagerly described to me in New York.

But I'm not.

I'm angry. Furious even.

Mad that she's moved on from me so quickly, while I'm still here, stuck in the memories we made together.

My heart still belongs to her, every beat a reminder of what we had and what I've lost.

It's like she's found a way to bury the past, to erase me from her life, while I'm left with the ghost of what could have been.

Everything reminds me of her.

Every time I had to wait at that stupid elevator I remembered her always standing next to me.

I remembered the first time when she stood next to me, and then randomly decided to use the stairs when it was time to go in.

Every time I had to pass her office to go to mine, I remembered her.

Dammit, every time I was in my office I remembered her.

Why is she everywhere?

The thought of her planting flowers and smiling in the sun, without a single thought of me, drives me crazy.

I want to be happy for her, but all I feel is this gnawing resentment, this unfair anger that she's found a way to be happy without me.

I wish I could be happy without her.

My life has gone to shit.

I don't eat, I don't sleep, I don't even take care of myself.

My face hasn't been shaved in two months.

I look like a cave man, but I don't care.

There's no one to impress so what's the point?

My parents have already started searching for another woman for me to marry.

The news of the business growing made them even more desperate for an heir.

You need to have a kid now so you can retire at a good age.

I scoffed at their words.

My divorce isn't even finalized as yet.

And frankly, I don't want anyone else but her.

We didn't even get a chance to have a real relationship. It was finished before it even started.

"Mr. Harrington?" the interviewer brought me out of my thoughts.

I cleared my throat and fixed my posture. "I'm sorry. What was the question?"

"How do you feel knowing that your company has been skyrocketing over the past few weeks?" he asked.

"I'm happy."

That's what they told me to say.

Erick looked at me, discreetly motioning for me to say more.

"Ah," I pondered on what else to say as I looked on the ground.

I don't care about any of this.

I just want to see her again.

I looked back up at the interviewer. "I'm just happy."

The room fell silent as they all watched me.

"Mr. Harrington has been so happy that he's become too speechless," Erick joked to save me and a few people in the background laughed.

He smiled before nodding. "I know how that feels."

No, you don't.

He doesn't have to wake up every day without the woman he loves over a thousand miles away.

He doesn't have to spend his days knowing that she wants nothing to do with him because he was stupid and embarrassed her again and again.

He doesn't understand what it's like to face each morning alone, with nothing but the distance between us to remind me of what I've lost.

I stood up and took the mic off of me.

"Mr. Harrington, where are you going?" Erick answered.

"I'm done with this," I told him. "How many of these bullshit interviews do you want me to do with you? I've had enough."

"It's good publicity-"

"Enough," I glared at him before storming out.

I'm tired of having to take pictures and meet with people, asking the same thing over and over.

I'm tired, heartbroken, lonely, and upset.

When I reached outside, Michael was parked right at the entrance, so I immediately got in.

"Where to, sir?" he asked as he started driving.

"Home," I drily replied, running a hand over my beard, the word feeling hollow as I spoke it.

Home? That's not a home.

It's just the building I live in.

There's no love or structure in there that can make it be considered as a home.

I picked up my phone.

Every time I see it, I get proud of myself.

I haven't broken my phone since the last time, and I think I deserve an award.

It's the little accomplishments you should be proud of.

I opened it to see a photo of her.

My PI buddy had taken it. I know it's weird, but this photo is all I have of her.

In this picture, she's planting flowers, enjoying the calm life of Maine.

And here I am, torn between my desire to see her and the knowledge that my presence could shatter the serenity she's finally found.

Twenty times.

I boarded my private plane twenty times to go see her, twice I actually made it to the sky.

But I never saw her.

I always returned to home with only this picture.

She's found what she was searching for—a slow, peaceful life.

A life without me.

How can I be so selfish and destroy her peace all because I can't let go?

I turned off my phone and closed my eyes, letting the darkness wash over me, trying to subside the pain that pulsed with every thought of her.

I wanted the pain to vanish, to let go as easily as she had, but it clung to me, as relentless as the memories I couldn't escape.

The pain of imagining what we could've been was too much.

Olivia was right.

This is my karma for not liking her back.

If my dumb heart didn't fall for Sereia, I wouldn't be in this position.

I leaned back into my seat and forced myself to fall asleep, to escape my never-ending nightmare of a life.