After Choosing Her Secretary, She Regretted Losing Me

Lost in thought, I felt a strange pain surge through my eyes, causing me to drop my spoon and fork onto the floor. Trembling, I bent down to retrieve them.

When I straightened up, Verity stood at the door, her back to me.

“There’s an urgent matter at the company,” she said quickly. “I’ll accompany you next time.”

With that, she hurried out, leaving me in a sudden silence.

Half an hour later, I hobbled to my workstation. For some reason, my colleagues regarded me with sympathy and concern, their expressions making the air feel heavier around me.

While filling my cup with water in the break room, I couldn’t help but overhear a few colleagues whispering in hushed tones.

“So, Verity cheated on Tyron and got together with Colton?” one asked, disbelief etched in her voice.

“Definitely,” another chimed in, excitement lighting her eyes. “You should have seen it this morning! Colton only had a minor scratch from a paper cut. In front of all the supervisors in the meeting room, Verity put his finger in her mouth to show concern…”

Their voices trailed off, leaving a weighty silence in the air as the implications of their words sunk in.

My hand slipped, and the mug I held shattered on the floor. The gossip in the break room abruptly stopped, all eyes turning toward me.

I crouched down, silently gathering the jagged pieces and disposing of them in the trash can, the weight of their stares heavy on my shoulders.

I worked late into the night, pushing through until ten o'clock.

Suddenly, I felt a gentle weight on my shoulder; Verity was leaning against me, her familiar and unsettling presence.

“Tyron, why haven’t you replied to my messages?” she asked, her tone laced with confusion.

I didn’t turn to face her, but instead, I lit up my phone to check the unread message: [What kind of games do you guys usually like to play?]

Three years ago, I watched my buddy proudly flaunt the new game console his girlfriend had gifted him. At that moment, I asked Verity for a newly released game skin, hoping to share that excitement.

In the past, Verity had shot me a disdainful look and said, “Tyron, are you serious? You’re in your thirties, yet still obsessed with games and skins. Isn’t that a bit pathetic?”

Verity raised an eyebrow in surprise and exclaimed, “Aren’t you always saying you wanted to play this?”

I shrugged and replied casually, “I don’t play games anymore.”

After a brief silence, she snapped, “Fine then. I’m heading to the bathroom, and after that, we’ll go home together.”

Half a minute later, Verity's phone on my desk lit up, displaying a message from Colton: [Wow, Verity! You’re beyond generous and so thoughtful! Not only did you get me the game console, but you also loaded up on all the games. I’ll have to hit the gym harder to repay you—blushing over here!]

Arriving home well past eleven, I quietly entered the bedroom to gather my belongings.

Just then, Verity strolled in, her hair damp from the shower, and paused. Her gaze fell on the thinned-out clothes in the closet, the emptiness echoing the growing distance between us.

Frowning, Verity said, “Tyron, send me your measurements. I’m off to Paris for a business trip next month, and I’ll pick you up a couple of new suits.”

I waved my hand dismissively, replying without much thought, “No need. I don’t care about brands.”

The truth was, I was leaving soon anyway, so it hardly seemed worth the trouble.

Throwing the towel onto the bed, Verity shot me a cold glance and remarked, “Is this because I bought the wrong breakfast? Are you still sulking over that?”

I blinked, poised to explain that I wasn’t angry at all. But she scoffed, cutting me off. “Tyron, you are petty and unrefined.”

Verity pushed me out of the bedroom and shut the door behind her.

After seven years of being together, Verity initiated countless cold wars, each forcing me to swallow my pride to restore peace. But this time, I had genuinely reached my breaking point with her.

Verity remained locked away in the bedroom all night, ignoring any knock that might have come her way.

The following day, I went about my routine and prepared breakfast for both of us.

After finishing my meal and getting ready to leave for work, Verity stormed out of the study, her expression seething with anger.

Brandishing her phone like a weapon, she snapped, “Tyron, take the day off. By 5 PM this afternoon, I need you to make an identical fondant cake for me.”