How Could I Bear You Sad

Sandra turned to Matteo, her eyes wide and shimmering, as if in awe. “Really?”

He reached over, ruffling her hair with a practiced ease that spoke of familiarity. “When have I ever lied to you?”

They acted as if I wasn’t even there, their closeness deliberated. I knew all too well that this was Sandra’s way of flaunting. Once, I might have fought back, retaliated against her calculated sweetness and challenged Matteo for his disrespect. But now, I had resolved to move on. Neither their petty games nor any semblance of love mattered anymore.

I cleared my throat with a deliberate cough. “Mr. Mendez.”

Both of them turned to look at me.

“I’d like to transfer the project to Sandra,” I said.

“Fine,” Matteo replied easily, as if it were nothing.

“And from now on,” I continued, “I’ll personally supervise her. We’ll switch seats.”

My current spot had a view straight into Matteo’s office, a place I’d occupied since day one at the Mendez Group. It had plenty of sunlight and a good breeze—a place I once enjoyed. Now, any seat would do. I was already halfway out the door.

“Understood,” I said without hesitation. “I’ll make the switch today.”

My easy compliance seemed to unsettle Matteo. His gaze darkened, assessing my reaction. But I remained indifferent. “Is there anything else, Mr. Mendez? If not, I’ll see myself out.”

As I turned to leave, Sandra’s voice followed me. “Is Ms. Argento upset?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Matteo dismissed, his attention already back on Sandra. “Let’s continue.”

Back at my desk, I forced myself to focus, ignoring whatever murmurs might pass through the blinds. I channeled my energy into drafting my resignation. There was no need to prolong the inevitable. I had two other projects near completion; in a month, I would close out my obligations and leave everything behind.

I worked late into the evening, gathering all materials related to the project before setting the files on Sandra’s desk. Without a backward glance, I grabbed my bag and left, arranging to meet my best friend, Lucy, for dinner.

The traffic in the old city crawled to a standstill, but the subway offered me freedom from potential interruptions. I didn’t want Matteo using any excuse to find me.

Over dinner, Lucy eyed me with concern. “March, are you really going through with the divorce?”

Lucy had witnessed the good moments—the genuine love that once defined my relationship with Matteo. The sweet beginning was something she’d never forget. Hearing my decision earlier had come as a shock.

I sipped my tea and nodded. “Yes. I’ll pack tonight and leave Centrale for good.”

“And work?”

“I’ll resign. A clean break is what I need.”

Tears welled in Lucy’s eyes. The determined, fearless March she once knew had returned. “When will you tell him?”

“Tonight.”

And I did.

At 10:30 p.m., Matteo arrived at Centrale. He found me in our second-floor bedroom, kneeling on the plush carpet he once installed for my comfort, packing my things into two large suitcases. He leaned against the doorframe, a smile playing on his lips. “So you texted me to come back and watch you make a scene by running away?”

I met his eyes steadily. “I’m not playing games, Matteo.”

“Then this must be about Sandra. Jealousy suits you.” His gaze burned with amusement, as if my pain were a joke.