What changed? What happened between breakfast this morning and tonight to make her put up walls between us, and can I breach them again? The not knowing is perhaps worse than if she’d just told me to fuck off and leave her alone.
The next morning,I arrive at the office early, hoping to catch Sarah before the day gets complicated. She’s already at her desk when I walk in, but something about her rigid posture tells me this isn’t going to be the conversation for which I was hoping. Her back is straight and her shoulders are set, like she’s armoring herself for battle.
I close the door behind me and move toward her desk, noting how she doesn’t look up from the papers she’s sorting. “Sarah.”
She stands, her legs wobbling a bit. When she finally meets my gaze, her expression is neutral, but I catch the exhaustion in her eyes. “I need to talk to you.”
I stop a few feet away, noting the careful distance she’s maintaining between us and the way she’s positioned herself near the door like she’s planning an escape route. “Of course. What’s on your mind?”
She takes a breath, squaring her shoulders, and lifting her chin in a gesture of forced courage that reminds me of the day I first reassigned her to my office. “I’m quitting. Effective immediately.”
My world tilts sideways at the words. I clench my hands involuntarily at my sides as I try to process what she’s saying. “What?”
Her face remains blank, but I catch the slight tremor in her voice and the way her fingers worry at the hem of her blouse. “This isn’t working. Any of it. I think it’s best if I find something else.”
I step closer, trying to read her expression, but she takes a corresponding step back until her hip hits the edge of the desk. “Sarah, if this is about last night, or the night before?—”
She shakes her head firmly. “It’s not about last night. It’s about everything—the situation we’re in isn’t sustainable.”
I reach toward her, but she moves away, putting the desk between us as a physical barrier. The rejection stings. “We can make it work. I told you I was going to end things with Katya, and I meant it.”
Something flickers across her face—hope or pain or both—before she locks it down again. Her knuckles go white where she grips the edge of the desk. “When?”
The single word carries everything she’s not saying and all the doubts and fears she’s been harboring while I’ve been lost in planning our future in the murky “someday” months from now. I suddenly feel cornered by the intensity of her stare. “Soon. Valentin is setting up meetings, working out the details?—”
Her laugh is bitter and broken, the sound cutting through me like glass. “How soon?” Her voice is steady but her eyes are bright with unshed tears. “A month? Six months? A year?”
I hesitate, knowing whatever number I give won’t be what she wants to hear. The timeline Valentin laid out yesterdayseems reasonable for business purposes but impossible when I’m looking at the woman I love asking me to choose her. That moment of silence tells her everything she needs to know.
She nods once, a sharp jerk of her head that speaks of disappointment and resignation. “I see.” She moves forward, but I step into her path, hands raised in a gesture of supplication.
“It’s not that simple. There are political considerations, business relationships—” I spread my hands, trying to make her understand the complexity of what I’m trying to accomplish.
She stops just out of reach, her whole body vibrating with suppressed emotion. “There are always going to be political considerations.” She looks up at me with heartbreak written across her features, tears threatening to spill over. “There’s always going to be something more important than us. I can’t be the other woman, and I won’t let them…this destroy who I am or make me someone I’m not.”
I take another step closer, desperate to make her understand she’s wrong. “That’s not true.”
Her smile is sad and knowing, the expression of someone who’s heard empty promises before. “Isn’t it? I’m asking you to choose me, right now, today, and you can’t do it.”
I spread my hands, trying to find words that will bridge the gap between us, but everything I think to say sounds like another excuse. “I’m trying to do this the right way, the safe way?—”
She laughs again, the sound sharp enough to cut, and I see something break behind her eyes. “For whom? Safe for your business interests? Safe for your reputation? Because it’s not safe for me.”
The raw pain in her voice stops my protests. Something has happened that’s made her feel threatened in a way I don’t understand. I search her face for clues, but she’s already closing herself off, rebuilding the walls I thought we’d torn down two nights ago. I soften my voice, trying to reach the woman who trusted me enough to share her bed and her body. “Talk to me. Tell me what this is really about.”
She shakes her head, reaching for the door handle with a finality that makes my chest ache. “It doesn’t matter anymore. I can’t do this, Yarik. I can’t be the other woman waiting for you to figure out how to fit me into your life.”
I reach for her arm, but she’s already moving, her hand closing around the door handle. “Sarah, wait?—”
She’s already gone, the door closing behind her with quiet finality. I stand in my empty office, staring at the space where she was, the scent of her perfume still lingering in the air like a ghost.
She asked me to choose her today, and I couldn’t do it. Not because I don’t want to, but because I need time to do it right, to minimize the damage to everyone involved. From her perspective, my hesitation looked like rejection, like proof that she’ll never be my priority. I understand suddenly I failed her when she needed me to be decisive.
Valentin appears in my doorway, his expression grim, interrupting my plans to chase after Sarah. “We have a problem.”
I look up from the contract I’ve been staring at without reading, my mind still replaying Sarah’s final words. “What kind of problem?”
He settles into the chair across from my desk with a solemn air, clutching a thick folder in his hands. “The kind that involves Roman Sokolov and several million dollars in unauthorized transactions.” He opens the folder. “Remember that mid-level player who wanted to do business with us a few weeks ago?”
