Rivals of the heart

34.Turning the Page: Bella's Bold Step Toward a New Beginning

Bella's POV:

I had always prided myself on my dignity. Inquiries and confrontations were not my style. I preferred to handle my issues with grace and composure, keeping my personal turmoil private. But today, the weight of everything was too much to bear. The truth about William and Olivia had shattered me, and the final blow came from the cold indifference I felt from William himself.

I couldn't keep the turmoil inside any longer. With a mix of resolve and trepidation, I walked to his office. Each step felt heavier than the last, my heart pounding in my chest as I approached the door. I knocked, the sound echoing with a finality that made me almost turn back. But no, I had to do this.

"Come in," his voice was as detached as ever, and I pushed the door open, stepping inside.

William was seated behind his desk, his eyes flicking up from his paperwork to regard me with a gaze that was eerily indifferent. I struggled to keep my voice steady, but it trembled despite my efforts. "William, can we talk?"

He leaned back in his chair, a small, unreadable smile playing at the corner of his lips. "What's this about?"

I took a deep breath, trying to muster every ounce of courage I had left. "I just want to understand why you did it. Why did you... why did you pretend there was something between us when there was nothing?"

He regarded me with a cold, clinical stare. "You really think a man like me would have any genuine interest in someone like you?" His words were laced with a disdain that cut deep. "You were nothing more than a distraction, a fleeting amusement."

His words hit me like a punch to the gut. I felt like my entire world was collapsing in on itself. How had I been so blind? How had I not seen the truth sooner? It was as if I had been wearing a blindfold, unable to see the reality that was so plainly in front of me.

He continued, his tone flat and unfeeling. "You're not someone I'd ever consider seriously. I don't understand why you thought otherwise. Did you really believe someone like me would have any real feelings for you?"

The coldness of his reply, the sheer lack of empathy, was too much to handle. I felt the walls of my dignity crumbling, but I refused to let him see the tears that were threatening to spill. I couldn't bear the thought of creating a scene, of showing him the hurt he had caused me.

I said nothing more. My heart ached with the realization that I had been nothing more than a plaything, a momentary distraction. I turned on my heel and walked out of his office, each step feeling like a mile. The silence of the office hallway was deafening, but it was better than the cruel words I had just endured.

As I made my way back to my own space, I felt hollow, drained. It was a struggle to keep my composure, to maintain the facade of normalcy. But inside, I was crumbling, my heart heavy with the weight of his words and the stark realization of my own naivety.

I didn't want to make a scene. I didn't want him to see the depth of my hurt. So I walked away, determined to hold on to whatever dignity I had left, even as it felt like it was slipping through my fingers.

The evening after our confrontation, I sat alone in my apartment, my thoughts swirling in a fog of hurt and clarity. The realization that working in close proximity to William would only exacerbate my pain was almost too much to bear. I needed to remove myself from the situation, to create a clean break that would allow me to heal. The only logical step, it seemed, was to resign.

The next morning, I approached my resignation with a sense of finality. I had already drafted the resignation letter, carefully worded and professional. I wanted to leave no room for ambiguity—no room for more personal interactions, just a clean exit. I walked into the office, holding the envelope with my resignation letter as if it were a shield, protecting me from the emotional turmoil I felt inside.