As if letting go meant disappearing.
And now Emily stood there with a half-packed suitcase.
His heart was beating fast.
His dignity remained barely intact.
He didn’t cry in his office.
Later, she cried quietly in the staff restroom.
His hand was stuck to his mouth.
He only packed what really mattered.
Clothing.
A children’s book full of notes.
An old photo of his mother.
She left Lily’s baby comb there.
Accidentally.
Or maybe intentionally.
“It’s his,” he thought.
“It’s not mine anymore.”
In the courtyard, the California sunset painted the walls a vivid gold.
George, the driver, opened the car door.
He looked at her with quiet sympathy.
“This is not right, Miss Emily,” he muttered.
Emily nodded.
He entered without looking back.
He knew that if he had done so, he would have rushed to Lily.
And the rejection, as if it were an administrative error, made it unbearable.
As the car drove away, memories flooded him.
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