After I Got Kicked Out, They Begged Me to Come Back

"Besides," Darlene snapped, "Lester came here to apologize!"

"Apologize?" I pointed coldly at the floor. "He smashed my mother's photo and stepped on it. That's your idea of an apology?"

Darlene glanced down, her brows tightening briefly—but the frown quickly faded.

"It's just a picture frame. So what if it broke? Is that really worth throwing a punch over?"

She let out a scornful laugh. "Looks like that bonus really went to your head. You've lost your mind."

Lester sniffled right on cue, looking pitiful and fragile.

"President Schmidt, please don't blame Sir Harold... maybe I said something wrong that upset him..."

The sight of his fake humility only fueled Darlene's anger.

"Harold, I gave you a chance. You're the one who didn't value it."

"Now pack your things and get out of this company—immediately!"

I bent down, picked up the shattered photo from the floor, and placed the last of my belongings into my bag.

My silence and composure caught them both off guard.

They probably expected me to get mad, to argue, to lose control.

But I didn't.

I zipped up my backpack and walked straight to the door.

When I passed by Darlene, I stopped. Turning slightly, I met her eyes and said evenly, "President Schmidt, remember what you said today."

"I hope you won't regret it."

"And I hope Lester... really is as 'capable' as he pretends to be."

Darlene's brow creased, as if she wanted to retort, but I didn't give her the chance. I turned and walked away, without looking back.

There was nothing here worth holding onto anymore.

...

When I got home, my mother—just discharged from the hospital—was resting on the sofa.

Seeing me back so early, and the heaviness on my face, she immediately grew concerned.

I didn't hide anything. I told her everything—about the resignation, the stolen bonus.

Not a trace of blame crossed her face. Instead, she gently took my hand, patting it softly.

"Then it's good you left," she said, her voice full of quiet strength. "A company like that isn't worth my son breaking himself for."

"Your health matters most—and your peace of mind even more."

"I still have some savings. Don't rush into another job. Rest for a while."

Her words flowed through me like warmth on a winter morning.

The days that followed seemed to slow down, each moment stretching softly into the next.

In the mornings, I accompanied her to the market, listening to her bargain cheerfully with vendors while picking the freshest vegetables.

By late morning, we'd stroll through the park, blending into a crowd of elderly people practicing Tai Chi—her moves were graceful while mine was awkward and clumsy.

In the afternoons, we'd sit on the balcony, brewing herbal tea, watching the leaves swirl in the water as we chatted about neighbors and small, inconsequential things.

The peace of those days began to thaw something inside me—the part of my heart that had been dulled by years of corporate exhaustion and quiet bitterness.

And during that rare stretch of calm, the past nine years had played in my mind like an old film—faded, but vivid in memory.

I remembered the hardest days when the company was still in its infancy.

To break through a client's technical barrier, I led a handful of engineers—our entire tech team at the time—and lived in the office for three straight months.

We'd nap under our desks on flattened cardboard when sleep finally overpowered us.

But in the end, we did it.

We not only solved the problem, but also designed an optimized system that far exceeded the client's expectations.

That victory earned the company its first real profit—and its first taste of reputation.

I also remembered when a rival company launched a malicious cyberattack that nearly paralyzed our servers and infuriated our clients.

For forty-eight sleepless hours, I led the team in tracing the breach. We not only defended against the attack, but also located the source, exploited their vulnerabilities, and turned the tide—saving the company millions and hitting back hard.