Ryan felt a knot tighten in his stomach as he approached Harold’s office. The meeting earlier had gone surprisingly well despite Harold’s attempt to downplay his role, but Ryan knew his boss well enough to know that this wasn’t the end of it. Harold had called him to his office immediately after the shareholders left, and that could only mean one thing—more insults, more humiliation.
As he stood outside Harold’s door, Ryan took a deep breath, steeling himself for whatever was about to happen. He knocked lightly and heard Harold’s gruff voice from inside.
“Come in.”
Ryan pushed the door open and stepped inside. Harold was sitting behind his large mahogany desk, papers spread out in front of him, though he didn’t seem to be paying much attention to them. His eyes, cold and unwelcoming, flicked up to meet Ryan’s.
“Close the door,” Harold said flatly.
Ryan did as he was told, feeling the oppressive weight of the room close in around him. Harold leaned back in his chair, studying him with a look that was half amusement, half disgust.
“Do you know what your problem is, Ryan?” Harold asked, his voice dripping with condescension. “You think you’re more important than you are. You think just because you came up with a few decent ideas that you matter. Let me make one thing clear—you don’t.”
Ryan swallowed hard, trying to keep his composure. He had grown used to Harold’s insults over the years, but they never got any easier to endure.
“I’m not trying to make myself out to be more important,” Ryan said quietly, his voice strained. “I just want to do my job.”
Harold snorted. “Your job? You barely have one as it is. The only reason you’re still employed here is because I haven’t gotten around to firing you yet. But honestly, looking at your pathetic face every day makes me want to puke.”
Ryan felt a surge of panic rise in his chest. The idea of losing his job right now, with everything else in his life falling apart, was unbearable.
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“Please, Sir” he said, his voice trembling. “Don’t fire me. I need this job.”
Harold smirked, clearly enjoying the sight of Ryan begging for mercy. He leaned forward, his hands clasped on the desk in front of him.
“Oh, I’m not firing you. Not yet, anyway,” Harold said, his voice mockingly sweet. “I just don’t want to see your face for the rest of the day. Get out of my office, and don’t come back until tomorrow. Maybe by then, I’ll be able to stomach looking at you.”
Ryan nodded, his throat tight. He turned to leave, feeling utterly defeated. As he reached for the door, Harold’s voice cut through the air again.
“And Ryan?” Harold called out, his tone dripping with malice. “Next time you want to take credit for something, make sure you’ve actually done something worthwhile.”
Ryan didn’t respond. He left the office, his heart heavy, his mind clouded with anger and shame. The familiar sting of Harold’s words echoed in his head, but there was nothing he could do. He needed this job, no matter how much Harold humiliated him. It was the only thing keeping him afloat.
He made his way outside, feeling the crisp morning air hit his face. It was only 10 a.m., but he was done for the day. Harold had made sure of that. For a moment, Ryan thought about wandering around the city, trying to clear his head, but the idea of going home and getting some rest was too tempting.
When he arrived home, the house was surprisingly quiet. Apart from the few maids still working, it seemed like everyone else was gone. Amanda was probably at work, her mother likely out at some meeting or social event. For the first time in a long while, Ryan felt a small sense of peace.
He stepped into the empty house, closing the door softly behind him. The stillness was a welcome change from the constant tension that filled the Hargrave household. He could finally relax, even if just for a little while.
Ryan kicked off his shoes and walked toward the stairs, heading up to his room. As he climbed the steps, Amanda’s cold words from earlier that morning replayed in his mind. She had barely looked at him, her disdain for him more palpable than ever.
“I can’t stand the sight of you,” she had said, her voice laced with venom. “You’re worthless, Ryan. A burden.”
He shook his head, trying to push the memory away. Maybe, just maybe, things would change. Maybe Amanda would realize how much he loved her, how much he was willing to endure for her. He wasn’t ready to file for divorce, even though every day in this house was like living in a nightmare. He loved her too much. As much as she hurt him, he couldn’t imagine a life without her. He didn’t want to leave. He just wanted to see her face every day, even if that face was filled with contempt.
Ryan collapsed onto his bed, the exhaustion of the morning catching up with him. He closed his eyes, imagining what it would be like if things were different. In his mind, Amanda was there beside him, her face soft and gentle, her hand resting on his chest as she whispered words of comfort.
But that was just a fantasy. The reality was much colder, much harsher. Amanda didn’t care for him anymore. If she ever had.
Still, Ryan clung to the hope that maybe one day, she would see him again. The man who had saved her countless times, the man who had given up everything for her. Maybe one day, she would remember the love they once shared.
His thoughts grew hazy as he drifted into sleep, the weight of the morning finally pulling him under. He dreamed of a different life, one where Amanda’s love wasn’t a distant memory, but a reality. Where her touch was warm, not cold. Where her words were kind, not cruel.
For now, though, all he had was the silence of the empty house and the fleeting comfort of sleep. But deep down, he knew that even this brief reprieve wouldn’t last. Reality always had a way of crashing back in. And when it did, he would be left to face the same bitter truth: no matter how much he loved Amanda, it would never be enough to fix what had broken between them.
