No Way Back to Her

For this relationship, I endured seven years as Declan Kendrick’s secret girlfriend.

He always said his career was only beginning. Because of the board’s rules, our marriage would have to wait.

Then his cherished first love, Renee Oakley, returned to Chicago. Within a month, he broke his own rules and installed her as a director.

Disheartened, I asked to break up and planned to accept an overseas offer.

Declan panicked and held me tightly, trying to reassure me.

“Natalie, you’re the woman I intend to marry. It’s only a matter of time. Renee just had her heart broken. I’m only looking after her a little. Don’t be so sensitive.”

Once again, he was certain I could not leave him.

Until today, when I went to check the renovations on our future marital home. After checking the system, the property manager looked at me awkwardly.

“Ma’am, the owner is… Ms. Renee. Mr. Kendrick transferred the title last night.”

I felt as though I had plunged into ice.

In seven years, I had gained no home. Even the ridiculous belief that I held a special place was an illusion he had casually bestowed.

I did not make a scene. I blocked every way of contacting him and boarded my flight for the overseas posting.

Declan, may we never meet again in this life.

1

“Declan, you promised me the planning director’s position six months ago.”

I looked at the man behind the desk, trying to keep my voice steady.

He raised his head from a mountain of documents.

Removing his gold-rimmed glasses, he rubbed between his brows, his voice carrying a trace of weary irritation at being disturbed.

“Natalie, haven’t we discussed this?”

“Renee just came home. Her ex-boyfriend cheated her out of money abroad, and she’s depressed. She desperately needs a respectable position to rebuild her confidence.”

I tightened my grip on my performance report.

“So the results my team and I spent three months working through the night to achieve are stepping stones for her confidence?”

“That’s an ugly way to put it.” Declan frowned.

He rose and came over to look at me.

“You’ve been here seven years. You’re established. Even without a promotion for now, everyone recognizes your ability.”

“But Renee is different. She’s all alone. Without the title, how can she find her footing here?”

His matter-of-fact tone slowly pierced my heart.

“What about me?” I looked into his eyes. “I kept our relationship secret for seven years to avoid suspicion. Now I have to give up the promotion I earned too?”

Declan sighed.

He put his arm around my shoulders and pulled me close.

“Natalie, you’re the woman I intend to marry. Won’t my company be yours someday?”

“Why compete with an outsider?”

His chin rested against my hair, his voice gentle.

“Be good. Don’t be so sensitive. We’ll marry sooner or later. Once this round of funding is finished, I’ll tell the board about us.”

I stood rigid in his arms, neither struggling nor returning his embrace.

It was always the same.

He used the distant promise of being his wife to squeeze away the space I had to live in the present.

“Oh, right.” He released me and took an exquisite velvet box from his desk.

“I stopped for your favorite macarons from Marlow's Patisserie. I saved these especially for you.”

He pressed the box into my hands, his affectionate gaze tinged with the condescension of charity.

“Have something sweet and calm down. I’m entertaining clients tonight. Go home early and rest.”

I looked down at the box.

The packaging was beautiful, even tied with a pink ribbon.

“Thank you,” I said softly.

Back at my desk, I opened the velvet box.

Five macarons lay inside.

The six-piece box had an empty space in one corner.

My phone lit up. A small internal company group chat.

Someone had posted a screenshot of Renee’s latest Instagram post.

In the photograph, she sat in Declan’s passenger seat, holding a macaron with one bite taken out.

The caption read: “Too sweet. One was enough. Luckily, someone’s taking care of the rest for me~”

I stared at the photograph.

Then at the five lonely pastries in the box.

Nausea rose in my stomach.

He had given me what Renee did not want, as a gift to placate me.

And solemnly claimed he had saved it especially for me.

I closed the box and threw it, pink ribbon and all, into the bin beside my feet.

Seven years ago, when we ate instant noodles in a basement, he shared the only sausage with me.

He said, “Natalie, someday everything I have will be yours.”

Now he had everything.