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“Ethan…”
“If that will be all, you can leave.” But she doesn’t move a muscle; she just remains there, batting her eyelids at me.
“What do you want, Lysa?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady despite the turmoil swirling inside me.
She takes a few steps closer, her gaze lingering on me in a way that makes my skin crawl. “I miss us, Ethan,” she purrs, her voice dripping with honeyed sweetness. “I miss what we had. Don’t you miss it too?”
I resist the urge to roll my eyes at her blatant attempt at seduction. “No, Lysa, I don’t miss it. And I don’t want it back.”
Her smile falters for a moment, but then she quickly recovers, taking another step towards me. “Come on, you can’t deny that there’s still something between us. Why fight it?”
I grit my teeth, feeling my patience wearing thin. “Because it’s over, Lysa. It’s been over for a long time, and it’s not coming back. I suggest you accept that and move on.”
Her expression darkens, and I can see the anger simmering beneath the surface. “You can’t just throw me away like this, Ethan. I deserve better than that.”
I shake my head, my frustration mounting. “You had your chance, Lysa, and you blew it. Now, if you don’t mind, I have plans, so if you could please leave…”
She huffs. “I cheated, so what? It was a one-time thing, and I have asked for your forgiveness over a million times. What else do you want from me?”
“And I’ve forgiven you, but not enough to get back together. We can’t go back to the way things used to be between us.”
“Oh, Ethan,” she tries to throw herself at me, but I take a step back. “It meant nothing, and I was thinking about you the whole time…”
“Lysa, stop. You are humiliating yourself, so please, just stop.”
But before I can finish my sentence, she closes the distance between us, her hand reaching out to trail lightly down my arm. “I know you still want me, Ethan. I can see it in your eyes.”
I jerk away from her touch, my temper flaring. “That’s enough, Lysa. I won’t say it again—leave. And this had better be the last time you will ever try something like this, or I’ll have no choice but to fire you.”
For a moment, she stares at me, her eyes blazing with a mixture of anger and hurt. But then, with a defiant toss of her head, she turns on her heel and storms out of my office, slamming the door behind her.
I let out a sigh of relief, feeling the tension drain from my shoulders. Dealing with Lysa is always exhausting. And I’m going to fire her one of these days if this continues.
As I step out of the building, the crisp evening air greets me, and it's a welcome change from the canned A/C of my office.
I meet Drake at our favorite bar, a cozy spot he owns where we often retreat to decompress after a hectic week.
We settle into a VIP booth, ordering a couple of beers as we catch up on each other’s lives. The conversation naturally drifts towards football, a topic we both share a passion for.
We discuss recent games and players and speculate on upcoming matches, losing ourselves in the familiar banter.
Between sips of beer, I fill him in on the latest developments with Lysa. I recount her unexpected visit to my office, her attempts at seduction, and the general headache she’s been causing me with her constant tantrums and lack of professionalism.
Drake listens intently, his brow furrowing in concern as I recount the details. “Man, I never liked that girl,” he says, shaking his head. “She’s nothing but trouble, and you’ve been way too patient with her.”
I nod in agreement, knowing deep down that Drake is right. Keeping Lysa on staff has been more trouble than it’s worth, and her behavior is only getting worse. “I know, I know,” I sigh, running a hand through my hair. “I’ve been trying to give her the benefit of the doubt, but it might be time to cut ties.”
He gives me a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “You’ll figure it out, man. Just remember, you gotta do what’s best for the business, and sometimes, that means making tough decisions.”
“Yeah, you are right about that.”
As the evening wears on, we continue to chat as ; my mind keeps drifting back to Jessica. Despite the jovial atmosphere of the bar and the distraction of our discussions about football, I find myself unable to shake thoughts of her.
I remember her confident smile and the way her eyes lit up when she talked to her colleagues, and wasn’t aware that I was looking.
I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts. I shouldn’t be dwelling on Jessica when I’m out with my friend, trying to unwind after a long week. But no matter how hard I try to push her out of my mind, she keeps creeping back in, a persistent presence that I can’t seem to shake.
I take a long sip of my beer, hoping to drown out the images of Jessica with the taste of alcohol, but it’s no use. She’s firmly lodged in my head, and try as I might, I can’t seem to escape her.
