Part 3Left at the Edge of Goodbye

My mother blurted out anxiously, “It’s all right. It’s fine down here.”

My throat tightened instantly.

“There are still several guest rooms upstairs. How can you and Dad be living here?”

I strode back upstairs, only to discover that my parents’ old room had been turned into a child’s room.

My father’s oxygen concentrator sat abandoned in the corner, gathering dust. The massage chair I’d bought for them was buried under a pile of Rachel’s old clothes.

My mother hurried after me, trying to calm me down.

“Waverly, don’t be upset.

“We’re old. It doesn’t matter where we stay. Once your father gets better, we’ll go back home. We won’t keep being a burden to you and your husband.”

I closed my eyes for a moment.

“Mom, come with me. I’m booking you and Dad a hotel.

“We’re not staying in this house.”

The next morning, Julian finally called.

“Today’s Ricky’s birthday. He likes a lively house, so come celebrate tonight.”

He hadn’t even noticed I never came home.

I looked over at my parents asleep in their hotel bed and answered softly, “Okay.”

With my phone still clenched in my hand, my thoughts drifted back to three years ago.

That was when my father had been diagnosed with terminal lung cancer. The doctors told us his chances of survival were a mere ten percent.

My mother and I were terrified, completely at a loss.

Julian had moved without hesitation. He sold the family home his parents left him and brought in one of the most respected specialists from overseas.

Round after round of cutting-edge treatment had kept my father alive.

That was why the three of us were still together now.

I took a deep breath and decided to give him one more chance.

But when I got back to the office, my private office already had Rachel’s name on the door.

When I asked Julian about it, he explained with casual indifference,

“Rachel needs space to help Ricky with homework. Your office is bigger, and it’s quiet.”

He pointed to the coffee table off to the side.

“Besides, you’re leaving on another business trip next month anyway. You can rough it out here for a couple of days.”

My fingers dug into my palm.

Years of desk work had left me with chronic neck problems and splitting headaches.

Julian had once gone out of his way to have the perfect desk made for my height, along with a custom ergonomic office chair with a built-in massage function.

And now he expected me to hunch over a coffee table to work.

Rachel walked over, eyes red as if she might cry.

“Waverly, don’t blame Julian.

“Why don’t we switch? You can take the big office.”

Then she paused and added in a small voice,

“Even if the coffee table is a little low, it’s not ideal for Ricky to do homework there either. Bad posture can mess up a growing kid’s back. But he can tough it out for a few days.”

Julian stood up immediately.

“No need to switch. We’re doing it my way.”

Then he turned to me, impatience already creeping into his voice.

“Waverly, when did you get so hard to please?”

I was just about to respond when his secretary—my former college junior—spoke first.

“Come on, Waverly. Don’t fight Rachel over this. If she hadn’t stepped aside back then, that office wouldn’t even be yours.”

I stared at her, stunned.

Before I could say a word, Julian’s old classmate—the sales director who had been with us since the company started—cleared his throat and jumped in.

“Waverly, back in college, Rachel and Julian were the dream team. They won first place in every startup competition.

“You were the lucky one. You got what Rachel left behind, and that’s how you ended up in the vice president seat. It’s only fair to give it back now.”

Rachel and Julian had once been the golden pair in the business school. Everyone assumed they would end up together.

But right after graduation, Rachel married a wealthy heir and became a full-time housewife.

Julian and I built the company side by side after that. We spent years working shoulder to shoulder, and somewhere along the way, we fell in love.

I dug my nails into my palm and looked at Julian.

“Do you think that too?”

He rubbed his brow, already irritated.

“What difference does it make where you sit? Stop making a scene. I have a meeting.”

It felt like my throat had been filled with lead. I couldn’t force out a single word.

Finally, I said, “Fine. She can have it all.”

Including you.