Falling for my boss ✔️

Chapter 14 - Heartbreak

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Sara's POV

The first thing I did once I got home was lose it.

I literally lost it.

I had a meltdown.

I tugged the covers off my bed and threw them away. He had slept on them. I would have burned them if I had a fucking lighter.

I threw away the clothes he had seen me in. I threw away the clothes he had touched on me. Dirty. Dirty. Dirty. Like him. Like that fucking liar.

I blocked his number.

I threw everything away that was related to him in any sort of way:

The stuff from work, the mug he had used after breakfast, the plate he had used, the shower stuff he had touched, the newspaper he had red; anything that I remembered about him, anything my fingers crawled onto I threw away, destroyed or yelled at.

But only myself I couldn't throw away. So, I needed to distance myself as far away from him as I could.

I took a sponge and scrubbed the spots he had kissed and touched until my skin was red and hurt at every movement. Now I had fully erased him from my life.

That's when I slipped down the door of the shower and broke out in a deep sob. Soon I was bawling my eyes out.

I had thought he loved me. I thought I had loved him. I thought he would be the right one.

Instead I got cheated on again. And it had been the man who had said himself 'he didn't have time to waste' and who 'wanted to settle down as soon as he could'. My ass. All he could do was make empty promises, work from morning till evening in his goddamn company and draw women in just to play with them.

How many had he lured that way in? It had worked with his ex. Maybe he had kissed other women in that copy room too ...

But why would he waste his time with me? Why would he kiss me, chase after me, go out on lunch with me, tell me about his past if he didn't fucking mean it!?

Had he lied to me about that too?

I screamed and threw the showerhead onto the floor.

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A week later

"Could you proofread the column from Trisha?", my boss, Mr Birmingham, appeared in my cluttered, small, brown office, which reeked of ink, musty paper and was constantly humming due to the copy machine. It was only big enough for me and so dark I had to switch on the light the moment I entered the office.

"Of course, Mr Birmingham", I took the slip from his hand.

It had been a sign of god, I was sure of it. I had stepped out the shower, gotten dressed in a new set of sport's clothes and tossed the old ones away, jogged blindly until I couldn't breathe anymore. Manhattan was way too big for its own good, but the more I left Wall Street behind, the better I felt.

That's where I ended up by some random little shop and spotted the paper which saved my ass:

'Proof-reader wanted'.

I nudged closer and immediately my future boss stepped out with a beaming grin.

I hated my job.