Chapter 9 I Quit

Olivia's POV I couldn't do it; it hurt so bad. The weight of my emotions pressed heavily on my chest as I gulped the whiskey, straight from the bottle. Exhaustion clung to me like a shadow, and I found myself crying myself to sleep. When morning came, motivation was nowhere to be found. I lazily got ready for work, and as I made my way to the office, a profound sense of weariness enveloped me. Standing in front of the office building, I sighed, realizing I was done here. Dragging myself to Damien's office seemed like the only thing left to do. Harper and I shared an awkward elevator ride, and her frown deepened as she took in my disheveled appearance. "Girl, you look like a mess," she stated with concern. "Yeah, it's a hangover," I explained, not bothering to divulge my intention to resign. She'd find out soon enough. Walking down the hallway, everything felt different this time. I scrutinized the walls as if they held answers to questions I couldn't articulate. Approaching Damien's office, I heard hushed voices. Intrigued, I froze by the door, unable to resist the pull of curiosity. "My dad wants us to have dinner, he wants to meet you," Damien's voice reached my ears. "But your mom, she hates me," a voice, presumably Serena, replied. "Serena, you're my girlfriend. I'll be there to defend you if she starts acting up, but please give it a chance," Damien spoke with a tenderness I hadn't witnessed in all our years together. In all our years together, I hardly saw this tenderness in Damien. And did he just call her his girlfriend? They're official? Taking a deep breath, I decided I had heard enough. I walked into the office, and Damien's expression shifted from surprise to concern. "Good morning, Damien," I started, my eyes not leaving his as I consciously ignored Serena's presence. "Good morning. What's wrong?" he inquired, his brow furrowed. I took a moment before responding, choosing my words carefully. "Nothing's wrong. I just think it's time for a change." Damien looked puzzled, and Serena eyed me with curiosity. "A change? What do you mean?" he pressed. "I mean, I'm resigning," I declared, my gaze unwavering. His eyes widened, and Serena shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "Resigning? Olivia, what's going on?" Damien's tone was a mix of surprise and concern. "I just need a fresh start. Somewhere new," I explained, the weight of my decision settling in the air. Harper's earlier words echoed in my mind. "Girl, you look like a mess." Now, it seemed my life was reflecting that sentiment. Damien sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Olivia, we can talk about this. You don't have to resign." Ignoring his offer, I continued, "No, Damien. It's time for me to move on." As I turned to leave, Damien's voice stopped me. "Olivia, please. Let's talk about it. Don't make any hasty decisions." I hesitated, my hand on the doorknob. "It's not hasty, Damien. It's overdue." I walked out, leaving behind a perplexed Damien. I stood by my desk, carefully packing my personal belongings into a carton I'd managed to snag from the cleaner. The office atmosphere felt heavy, laden with a sense of finality. As I reached for my framed family photo, a shadow fell over me. I glanced up to find Serena standing there. "What do you want?" I asked brashly, placing my hands on my hips. "I... I just wanted to apologize," Serena stammered, her eyes avoiding mine. I responded sharply, "Apologize for what? Let me guess, because It wasn't your intention to steal Damien from me? Save it." I spat. Serena nodded, mumbling, "I didn't mean it like that," before swiftly walking away. I gathered my box and headed towards the exit. As I walked, I felt eyes from my ex-coworkers glaring at me. Whispers followed me like a lingering echo. "Damien probably fired her because he loves Serena," a small group murmured among themselves. "I thought Damien and Olivia were the end game," another voice chimed in. I couldn't let these rumors fester. I paused, turning around to address the gossiping crowd. "To whom it may concern, I wasn't fired; I quit," I declared loudly. "And for the record, stop spreading rumors about Damien and me. It was never leading to marriage." I left the room, determined to put an end to the speculations. Harper followed me towards the elevator, looking concerned. "Olivia, are you okay?" Harper asked, genuine worry etched on her face. "I'll survive," I replied tersely. Harper sighed, "You know, Damien never deserved you. You're better off without him." "He's not the point. It's the whole office thinking they know my life," I said. As the elevator doors closed, Harper spoke softly, "You're strong, Olivia. You'll bounce back from this." I managed a faint smile, appreciating the support. The elevator descended, carrying me downstairs. I stepped out of the office building, waving at the security for what was probably the last time. The crisp air hit my face, and I couldn't shake off the bittersweet taste of finality. As soon as I slipped into the taxi, tears welled up in my eyes. The driver, glancing at me through the rearview mirror, adjusted it and asked with genuine concern, "Everything alright, miss?" I nodded, trying to conceal my emotions. "It's nothing, just a rough day." He shrugged, respecting my privacy, and steered towards my apartment following the instructions I provided. Once inside my apartment, I placed the box down. Collapsing onto my bed, I let the dam of emotions burst, and tears streamed down my face. "Serena is different," his voice echoed in my ears, a haunting reminder of the conversation that had led me to this moment. The words hung in the air like a heavy cloud, and I could almost feel the weight of each syllable pressing on my chest. "Why is she different, Damien?" I croaked on the bed as I clenched my sheets. I couldn't believe that he was taking Serena home, he was going to introduce her to his family. He never extended that grace towards me. The day his mother shut me out, he didn't even try to fight her. More waves of sobs escaped me. I cradled my knees and stayed on my bed, rocking myself back and forth. I had a burning question in my mind that needed answers. I looked over my shoulders at my phone. The logical part of me screaming against what I was about to do, but I had to, I needed to. I unlocked my phone, staring at the interface before opening my contacts list. My fingers hovered over the call icon beside Damiens number. Sucking in a sharp breath, I tapped it. As the phone rang, anxiety rippled through me. What would he think when he saw these calls? Would he think I was desperate? Well, I was. The line connected and for a second I felt numb, I didn't even know what to say. He was quiet, waiting for me to state my reason for calling him. “I want to ask you one thing, please just tell me the truth.” He remained silent, I could imagine him contemplating his response. “Go on,” he said. “Did you ever love me?” I asked in-between sobs. “Olivia -” “Just answer the damn question!” I shrieked. “Yes.” I hung up.