“But since there’s no one at home to take care of you… why don’t you stay at my place for now? There’s a housekeeper.”
I stared at him in shock.
He cleared his throat and added, “You are, after all, my most competent assistant.”
Just like that, the brief ripple in my heart settled.
Then, his phone rang.
Out of reflex, my eyes flicked to the screen.
The caller ID read: Angela Walsh.
Kian answered the call, and I was struck by the unexpected softness in his voice.
I remembered the back-view photo that Dolly Hills sent.
“So, that’s how it is…”
I let out a quiet, self-mocking laugh.
In the end, I still went home with Kian because I was afraid of reliving that day.
I wanted to escape from the raging inferno and suffocating despair of death.
…
Kian’s home was a luxurious penthouse in the heart of the city, sprawling over 4,000 square feet.
There were more than enough rooms, but aside from a housekeeper who came by to clean and cook dinner, the place was mostly empty.
Which meant it was just the two of us.
He refused to let me go back to work, saying I was on a mandatory two-week leave.
Dolly had replaced me as his assistant.
The anxiety made it impossible to eat.
It wasn’t until Kian reassured me multiple times that this wasn’t his way of firing me.
He genuinely just wanted me to rest, and I finally eased up.
To be honest, I wasn’t physically unwell anymore.
But my emotions had been a mess.
A constant cycle of highs and lows.
One moment, I felt light, almost happy.
The next, a wave of sorrow crashed over me.
The relentless push and pull left me wide awake every night.
I didn’t want Kian to notice.
So, every evening, I forced myself to lie still with my eyes shut, pretending to sleep.
More than once, I felt Kian enter the room.
I even went as far as faking soft snores just to convince him I was asleep and put his mind at ease.
But as the days passed and I continued to lose weight, his concern only deepened.
“You should get out for a bit, Sora. Take a trip to Maldives, maybe? A few days away might help.”
“No, boss, I’m fine. I need to remove my stitches in two days. I’m feeling much better. I can go back to work.”
“No. Take another two weeks off.”
I hesitated, staring at him.
“Boss, you’re really not trying to fire me, right? Or is something going on at the company…?”
I didn’t finish the sentence.
Because by now, I had seen too many of the photos Dolly kept posting in the company chat—photos of Kian and that woman.
