The slightly crumpled sheet of paper lay in her desk drawer alongside her resignation letter. I picked it up, and something told me it was meant for me. Suddenly, an old childhood game came to mindthe way my mates and I used to play spies, writing secret messages to one another. Wed squeeze lemon juice onto a saucer or use milk as invisible ink, then scratch out our notes with toothpicks or cotton buds. Holding the paper over a gas flame would reveal the hidden words. Even with her, Emily, wed once joked about those silly games.
Barely waiting for lunch break, I rushed home and, like a lovesick schoolboy, fumbled with trembling hands over the gas stove, holding the paper to the flame. And I was rightthough Im always right. It *was* her letter. Shes as mad as I am!
*”If youre holding this note, I wasnt wrong about you,”* Emily had written. *”You figured out what to do with this sheet of paper. Things couldve been different. But theres one thing Ill sayby belittling me, you destroyed everything I ever felt for you. I think you even enjoyed tormenting me. Maybe thats all youre capable of. Just because someone hurt you once doesnt mean you get to mock those who wont retaliate. Did you think I couldnt have repaid you in kind? But then I wouldnt be me. You can win a battle and still lose the war. Dont look for me. Goodbye.”*
*Why?* I keep asking myselfwhy did I hate her so terribly, so fiercely?
When she walked in, it was like she brought sunlight, moonlight, the scent of the sea, and the sound of waves all at once. Birds burst into song, their melodies fantastical and unreal. Roses, tulips, peonies, and lilies bloomed in an instant. Im no romantic, but I swear I felt it.
The room grew stifling. Hot. I was burning up.
Emily wasnt a classic beauty, but there was something about her that drove me wildsomething I still cant name.
Think I havent seen beautiful women before? Youre wrong. Ive known plenty. Some might say Ive had my fill. Ive had all I ever wanted, and more. I knew my way around womenblondes, brunettes, redheads, though I preferred brunettes with short hair. Flowers, chocolates, perfume, datesId done it all. Ive loved, and been loved. I fell fast, and if rejected, I walked away without a second thought, finding someone more willing.
I remember my first love. The breakup nearly broke me. Then I realisedbeing in control was far better than begging.
But with her? I just wanted to bury my face in her warm lap, trace my fingers over her soft, flawless skin, twist my hands in her rich chestnut curls, touch her neck, her waist, breathe her inendlessly, recklessly, without limits.
Emily worked under me. Not that she was my best employee, but she was reliableevery task done on time, even the toughest projects. I trusted her with them, and she never failed.
Id shout at her, stare her down, relish my power. Why did I do it? Shed shrink, looking so helpless, and Id want to crush her further, make her weaker. But she never cracked. If only shed cried! That wouldve been my victory. Id have wiped her tears, comforted her. Maybe then, Id have changed.
I tried everything to get her attentiongifts, chocolates, compliments. Id look at her in a way that shouldve said it all. I wanted to touch her, not just physically. I longed to read her thoughts, her desires. And I almost couldI knew she felt something for me too.
When Emily was near, it was like scalding water poured over me.
Once, I pulled her into an embrace. She shoved me away, hard. Just stared into my eyes, silent.
How *dare* she?
She was my equal, but I refused to see it. WorseI was afraid to admit she was the one. But she wasnt mine. That infuriated me.
I loved watching her navigate problems. And she always solved them.
My mates smirked, eyeing me, half-convinced Id reeled her in. They wanted her too. It gratedbecause it wasnt true.
She was untouchable.
Id take calls from other women in front of her, laughing, flirting, arranging dates, trying to spark jealousy. She wouldnt even glance my way. Just silence.
I swore she was as obsessed with me as I was with her. I *felt* itevery nerve in my body knew. She *had* to feel something! I didnt just believe itI *knew* it.
She needed this job. I thought shed never leave, that shed endure it all until she was at my feet, and Id shower her with love. I wanted it so badly.
But pride doesnt just break down wallsit destroys everything in its path.
On Friday, she didnt show. Turned off her phone, blocked her email. That little minx left the project unfinished. Shed set me up.
Then she vanished, like mist. She *was* mistclose enough to touch, yet always out of reach.
I never thought it could happen.
How wrong I was.
It *does* happen.
