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My frustration deepens, but I try to remain composed. “Lok, this kind of negligence is not something we can just brush aside. It reflects poorly on your character.”
She smirks, seemingly indifferent. “Oh, come on, you know you can’t fire me.”
I resist the urge to react impulsively. “And what makes you think that I can’t? You must think highly of yourself. You have to figure it out or you will be walking out the door with a box containing your things just like the rest.”
She leans forward, still nonchalant. “Fine, Ethan. Whatever works for you.”
I lean back, frustrated by her dismissive attitude. “Leave my office.”
Growing up, she and I were like two peas in a pod, childhood friends with a bond that felt unbreakable.
Two years ago, we decided to take the leap and started dating. Back then, I thought I was doing something good when I offered her a job at the hotel to manage the front desk staff. Lysa had a degree in business management, and it seemed like a good fit.
Things went south a year ago when I found out she’d been unfaithful. It hurt, and I had to end our romantic relationship. It was tough, especially considering I had loved her.
Even after our breakup, I let her keep working here. I guess it’s because of our shared history and the fact that I know her family well. Plus, she needed the money.
It’s a messy situation, and every day, I’m reminded of a mistake I made.
Dealing with Lysa at work is a constant frustration. What irks me the most is her nonchalant attitude towards her job. It’s like she only cares about herself, and nothing else matters.
She seems indifferent to the impact her actions have on the hotel and the team. It’s disheartening to see someone so self-centered, especially when the role was meant to be a lifeline for her.
It’s a daily struggle to manage the professional front, and her blatant disregard for the responsibilities irritates me to no end.
Heading home, I’m greeted by the scent of something burning when I open the door—a telltale sign that Amy has been trying her hand at cooking again.
When I get to the kitchen, I find her looking at the charred remains of what was probably intended to be dinner. I can’t help but tease her.
“Uh-oh, what culinary masterpiece were you attempting this time?” I quip, a smirk playing on my lips.
She rolls her eyes, obviously unamused by my playful banter. “I was just trying to make something edible, but, clearly, the kitchen and I are not on good terms.”
I chuckle, putting an arm around her shoulders. “Amy, I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again—you and cooking are a dangerous combination. Maybe stick to ordering takeout next time?”
She swats my arm, feigning offense. “Okay, Mr. Food Expert. You can cook, and I can order. Teamwork.”
We share a laugh, knowing all too well that her culinary escapades are far from over. She enrolled in an online culinary school weeks ago and is always trying out what she’s being taught. But with how disastrous they always turn out, I wonder if she listens to the things her teacher says.
The time she tried making pasta. It tasted like she prepared salt with a pinch of pasta. The food was so salty it could bruise one’s tongue.
I fish out my phone from my pocket as I order us something to eat. “Would you like some Thai food?” I ask over my shoulder.
“Yes, please, thank you. Mom called,” Amy says, wiping her hand on a napkin as she comes to join me in the living room.
“How is she?”
“She’s fine. She says she’s not ready to come back from her vacation.”
“I still don’t get why you decided to cut your time there short. And don’t tell me it’s the heat in Miami or because you got bored. I know that’s a lie.”
“Believe whatever you want. Let me know when the food is here.” With that, she disappears upstairs to the guest bedroom.
I know there’s something up with her. I just have to find out what it is.
The next day at work, I spot Jessica during her coffee break. Wanting to clear the air, I decide to approach her.
She stands out in the busy break area with her chestnut-brown hair cascading down her shoulders in loose waves. The tailored fit of the uniform accentuates her curves, adding a touch of sophistication to her appearance.
