Tenth Anniversary, Getting Divorced

After a hasty shower, I slipped into my work attire and stepped out of the house, my mind still reeling from the confrontation with Zane. The crisp morning air hit me as I made my way to the shared bicycle stand.

As I pedaled away, the tension in my shoulders was palpable. Despite working at the same company, Zane had always insisted on keeping our lives separate. He never allowed me to ride in his car, arguing that it would be inappropriate for a front desk employee to be seen chauffeured around. Even though I had pleaded for a car of my own, his refusal was steadfast, insisting that my modest salary didn't justify such an expense.

His dismissive attitude towards my frustrations had become all too familiar. Whenever I expressed my discontent, he simply brushed it off with a wave, telling me to use my black credit card and not worry about superficial matters. But today, the lack of sleep from our argument and the long, solitary bike ride left me feeling drained.

When I finally arrived at the office, I was met with an unwelcome sight. Maeve, dressed in a chic, designer outfit that screamed luxury, was waiting for me with a scowl etched on her face. The morning sun filtered through the large office windows, casting long shadows on her expression of irritation. "Amy, what time do you call this? Do you have any idea how much you've delayed things?"

Her sharp tone cut through me like a knife. I was taken aback—after all, I was just a receptionist. What could I possibly have delayed? Was there an issue with the office supplies, or perhaps a missing memo? I ignored her and moved to my workstation, turning on the computer with a practiced nonchalance.

Maeve's frustration seemed to boil over as she began banging her fist on the front desk. "Amy, are you even listening to me?"

Startled, I looked up with a wooden expression. "Oh, do you need something?"

Maeve's anger was palpable as she seethed, her chest heaving with each breath. Just then, a client emerged from the conference room, looking slightly bewildered. Maeve's eyes flashed with irritation as she barked at me, "Print five copies of the meeting materials I emailed you yesterday. Now!"

Having said that, she quickly composed herself and hurried towards the client. They chatted for a few minutes before disappearing back into the conference room.

Meanwhile, I calmly printed the requested materials. I thought it was no big deal. But didn't she have a printer connected to her own computer?

As I entered the conference room to deliver the documents, I saw Maeve apologizing profusely to the client. "I'm so sorry," she said, "Our staff is so inefficient that they've wasted your time."

She shot a venomous glance in my direction, clearly trying to pin the blame on me. Normally, I would have swallowed my pride and accepted the blame, as Zane preferred to avoid conflict at the office. But today was different. I placed the freshly printed documents on the desk, facing the client with a practiced smile.

"Indeed, Miss Davenport has been working here for quite some time, yet she can't manage to print a simple document without involving others. That's why there was a delay," I said, my voice steady despite the underlying tension.

The client's face flushed with embarrassment, caught in the middle of our escalating drama. Just then, Zane strode into the room, his authoritative presence immediately shifting the atmosphere. He announced that the meeting was about to start and pointedly directed me out.

Once the meeting was over, Zane summoned me to his office. The tension was palpable as he berated me with a fierce intensity. "Amy, are you out of your mind? The client here today was a potential investor. If you've jeopardized this opportunity, I won't let you off the hook!"

I met his gaze with a cold sneer, my frustration bubbling to the surface. "You only seem concerned about the clients when it suits you. When it comes to evaluating my performance, you've never shown this much concern."

"And let's not forget Maeve," I added, my voice rising in anger. "What's the point of having a secretary who's either inept or incompetent? But I suppose she's useful in other ways, right? Maybe she's better at keeping you entertained?"

Zane's face turned a dark shade of red and with a furious swipe, he sent a stack of documents scattering across the desk. "Get out! I don't want to see you right now!"

I took a deep breath, feeling a surge of defiant clarity. "Okay, Mr. Baxter. I'm leaving right now."