The corporate retreat was a hike up Mount Sterling, and my new sneakers had rubbed my ankles raw before we even reached the halfway point. Limping and falling behind, I texted Liam: "Can you slow down? My feet are bleeding." He replied instantly: "Hang in there. We're almost at the top." I watched his tall, straight back ahead and put my phone away. He never gave me special treatment in public. Our company had a strict no-dating policy. After five years together, no one knew. But when I finally reached the summit, I saw Liam kneeling in front of the new intern. She wore brand-new leather loafers, and he was gently holding her ankle while applying a bandage. “Who wears these for hiking? Does it hurt?” She wiggled her foot, blushing. “I don’t think I can walk. Mr. Song, could you… carry me down?” Amid the teasing from our colleagues, Liam—the man who kept a two-foot gap from me in the hallway—let her climb onto his back. The mountain wind howled, and my ankle burned like fire. That’s when I realized his “professional distance” was a rule only for me. On the first workday after the retreat, I left my resignation letter on my desk, next to the box of bandages he’d once left in my drawer. Then I bought a one-way ticket home. 1 The station announcer called for boarding. I stood in the waiting hall, taking one last, long look at the city I had called home for five years. Because Liam was still here. The thought of leaving had first taken root at the end of last year. During the year-end financial review, the company paid out bonuses based on project performance. There was a major project I had led from start to finish. But in the final stages, I had let the new intern, Tina, assist with some of the wrap-up tasks. When the final assessments came in, ninety percent of the bonus for that project was allocated to her. It was my work, the result of over two months of my life. Mr. Quinn, my department head, looked uncomfortable. "Anna, this was Mr. Song's decision..." I was the one who had made an exception to bring Tina onto the project in the first place. I wanted to help a younger colleague, give her a chance to shine. I never imagined that my two months of hard work would end up making someone else look good. "Mr. Song emphasized the importance of rewarding promising new talent like Tina," Mr. Quinn said, his voice trailing off helplessly. Tina. The intern. And Mr. Song—Liam Song—was my boyfriend of five years. 2 A bitter wind whipped across the platform. I stood at my designated boarding spot, systematically deleting the photos of us from my phone. Liam had always insisted that an office romance was a fireable offense, so our five-year relationship had remained a secret. I had to beg him just to keep these few photos, and I was forbidden from ever sharing them on social media. He was so careful about maintaining his distance that everyone in the office thought he hated me. Even when he arbitrarily reassigned my project bonus, our colleagues just saw it as business as usual. Deleting the photos brought back the memory of that day. Swallowing my rage, I had called him from the hallway. As expected, he declined the call. For five years, he almost never answered my calls during work hours. A text immediately followed: Busy. But this wasn't personal. I marched straight to his top-floor office. Through the glass partition, I saw him leaning over Tina's desk, explaining a proposal. As she leaned in closer, the fringe of her scarf brushed against his neck. He was brilliant, no doubt about it. He'd been put in charge of the Kingston branch at such a young age and had earned the admiration of the New York headquarters in just a few years. There was a time when I had longed for his guidance, too. But he had always brushed me off impatiently. "Figure out the basics yourself, Anna. I'm busy." When I made a mistake and faced disciplinary action, he never intervened. "You'll only learn if you feel the consequences." Yet here he was, patiently explaining the fundamentals to Tina, who didn't even know how to create a pivot table. On his desk sat the lunch I prepared for him every single day. To avoid suspicion, I always had one of the cafeteria staff deliver it for me. "Mr. Song, I skipped breakfast and I'm starving," Tina whined, pointing at my lunchbox. "Can I have your lunch? I'll treat you to a nice dinner later." "Go ahead," he said, not even looking up from his emails. Tina happily opened the container and started praising the beef brisket. Suddenly, arguing with Liam about the bonus seemed utterly pointless. As I turned to leave, the entire building plunged into darkness. A massive storm had knocked out the power, and the company sent out an emergency notice for everyone to work from home. Groping my way down the dark staircase, I saw two figures walking side-by-side in the rain. Liam was holding an umbrella, carefully shielding Tina as he guided her to his car. I arrived home looking like a drowned rat. A few minutes later, Liam called. "Anna," he said, "I figured you had an umbrella. You made it home okay?" In the background, I could hear Tina asking if he wanted extra ginger in his ginger tea. "I made the tomato beef brisket today," I said, my grip tightening on the phone. "How was it?" "Hm? Oh, it was fine," he answered distractedly. After we hung up, I saw Tina's new social media post: a picture of two mugs clinking together in a warmly lit room. The caption read: It feels so good to be someone's favorite. 3 The train glided into the station. I dragged my suitcase aboard, vaguely hearing someone shout my name from behind. Maybe it was for me, maybe not. I didn't want to turn around. This journey home from Southbridge had its first stop in Crestwood. And my story with Liam had begun in Crestwood. It was my first time managing a bid proposal on my own. The subway had shut down, and the line for a taxi was over four hundred people long. I was about to miss the deadline. In desperation, I called Mr. Quinn, who cursed me out before giving me Liam's number and telling me to ask him for help. When I called, my voice trembling, Liam listened and then sighed softly. "Don't worry. Stay put, I'm coming." He sped through the storm, calming my panic while gently reminding me to always plan for delays. We submitted the proposal with seconds to spare. I was drenched in a cold sweat. He leaned against his car and handed me a steaming cup of coffee. That night, I made a post on my private story, visible only to him: Met a soft-hearted god in the middle of a storm. He quietly 'liked' it. Now, I found myself 'liking' Tina's post. A minute later, it vanished. Liam called almost immediately, his tone probing. "I'm on my way home." I kept my voice even, just telling him to drive safe. He seemed to relax. "You take care, too. Don't catch a cold." "Liam," I said suddenly, "this year, for the holidays... can we tell my parents about us?" He had always refused, saying the time wasn't right. "Let's not," he said, his voice low. "They're already pushing you to get married. Let's not add fuel to the fire." "Okay," I said with a small, hollow laugh, and hung up. The fever hit me hard after being soaked in the rain. For the first time ever, I took a taxi to work. As I stared out the window, Liam's car sped past me. My apartment was actually very close to his. But the direct route, Maple Creek Drive, had always been a traffic nightmare, a guaranteed thirty-minute jam. So I never expected him to give me a ride, and he was happy to maintain the professional distance. It wasn't until today that I realized the road had been repaired for over six months. The drive now took ten minutes. For half a year, he had driven past my front door every single day and never once offered me a ride. And today, he was coming from the direction of Tina's apartment complex. It wasn't on his way at all. It was a special trip. At the office, I stuck a cooling patch to my forehead and buried myself in preparing handover documents. A familiar figure appeared at my desk. Liam frowned. "You're sick? Why didn't you say anything?" I didn't look up. "What's the point? It's not like you'd take care of me like a normal boyfriend." Noticing colleagues arriving, I lowered my voice. "You should go. You hate being seen with me, remember?" He was silent for a moment before turning and walking away. 4 The second stop was Ashville. My connection with Liam had a chapter in Ashville, too. I had just been made a permanent employee. I went with Mr. Quinn and Liam to Ashville to finalize a contract. The night before the signing, after we'd reviewed the final proposal, we went out for a late dinner. Suddenly, a group of masked men rushed out of the darkness. Their target was clearly Liam, and they were vicious. Mr. Quinn started shouting and fumbling for his phone to call the police. If something happened to Liam, tomorrow's contract was dead. Without thinking, I grabbed a loose brick from the pavement and charged. We both ended up taking a beating. When I saw a knife swinging toward Liam's head, I threw myself in front of him, taking the blow on my arm. He pulled me down with him as we fell, and the last thing I heard before passing out was the wail of sirens. When I woke up, he was the only one in the hospital room. "Was it worth it?" he asked, staring at me. "Ready to die for me?" "I couldn't just... watch them hurt you," I whispered. "You helped me before. This time, I helped you." I looked down and realized he was holding my hand. The gesture felt strangely familiar. I froze. "Mr. Song..." "Call me by my name," he said softly. On the day I was discharged, the company was supposed to send a car, but he came to pick me up himself. He took me to the lake in Crestwood, his gaze as gentle as the rippling water. "I've been thinking a lot," he said. "The girl who took a knife for me... if she's willing to walk toward me, I'll cherish her forever." The setting sun stained the lake red. I reached out and hugged him. He leaned down and kissed my forehead. Back then, he looked at my wounds with such heartache. Now, he just frowned at my fever patch. After I finished the handover documents, a colleague nudged me to check the work group chat. In the new project channel, Mr. Quinn had added Liam. He had posted only one message: The project is entering its final phase. Full responsibility will be transferred to Tina. My colleagues shot discreet glances at me, waiting for a reaction. Everyone knew Liam disliked me, but this was a deliberate humiliation. I simply typed, "Received." It was for the best. It made the handover even easier. I transferred all the materials to Tina, then submitted a request for sick leave. It was approved instantly. I left my resignation letter on the desk, too. 5 The third stop: Haven Springs. Haven Springs was the last place Liam and I had traveled to together. His promotion was about to be announced, and I was thrilled for him. We went to a famous hot springs resort there. The owner said that if a couple posted a photo together on social media and got 30 'likes', he'd give them VIP tickets for the Ferris wheel next door. No waiting in line, straight to the top. Legend had it that if a couple kissed at the very top of the Ferris wheel, they would be happy forever and never part. I wanted to post to a private group of friends, but Liam refused. "The company forbids office romance, Anna. You know that." "I know, but I can set the post so colleagues won't see it." "Have you ever heard of the six degrees of separation theory? It's too risky." In the end, we bought regular tickets to the amusement park. But the line for the Ferris wheel was too long, and we never got on. Seeing my disappointment, he comforted me. "Anna, it's because I love you that I want to protect you, to protect us." "Will you help me guard our love?" he asked. I naively agreed. And so began five years of carrying the secret alone. Compared to the countless heartaches of those five years, that fever was nothing. After submitting my resignation, I went home, packed my bags, and waited for my late-night train. Suddenly, the door opened. It was Liam. He slipped on the house slippers and walked in. "Why is so much stuff missing?" he asked, a bag of soup and porridge in his hand as he surveyed the room. "Just doing some New Year's cleaning," I said, clearing my throat. He set the bag on the coffee table, and as he unpacked it, he froze. "Where are our photos?" I used to have our Polaroid pictures scattered everywhere—on the coffee table, the dining table, the bookshelf. I closed my eyes. "Some colleagues came over the other day. I put them away." He helped me sit up and handed me chopsticks. I looked at the table full of food but had no appetite. "Not hungry?" He sat beside me, reaching to put an arm around me. "Want some hot water then?" I shifted away, and just then, his phone rang. It was Tina, her voice frantic. "Mr. Song, I can't find the signed acceptance form for the Tech Park project! What do I do?!" He stood up. "Hold on, I'm on my way." He looked back at me, his expression all business again. "Is this how you handle a handover?" He didn't even wait for my explanation before grabbing his coat and rushing out the door. Just like the countless times he had left me for work. Only this time, it made me feel even more ridiculous. The folder and cabinet number for the acceptance form were clearly listed on the last page of the handover document. Tina had made the presentation for that project; she knew exactly where it was. Sure enough, a little while later, a text from Liam came through. Found it. Your notes were very clear. It was followed by a money transfer for the exact amount of my missing bonus. I declined it. He sent back a frustrated emoji. Get some rest. I have a meeting. Every Friday at this time, he had a video conference with the New York headquarters. He wouldn't look at his phone for three or four hours. I sent him one last message. Let's break up. I blocked his number and then called my landlord to terminate the lease. 6 The fourth stop was Silver Creek, my transfer station. Two more stops and I'd be home. But the train was delayed, by at least an hour. I wasn't in a hurry. I found a little café to kill time. The company had a branch here, too. Liam and I used to come for meetings, always in separate cars with a team of people. No one ever suspected a thing. I had slowly started to make a name for myself under Mr. Quinn. Because Liam was so demanding, everyone advised me to learn how to suck up to him. So I did. I bought him a Yuanyang tea latte and handed it to him with a serious expression. "Is this the Yuanyang?" he asked, taking it. "Yes," I smiled. "Doesn't Mr. Song only drink coffee?" Mr. Quinn chuckled. "Changing tastes just for Silver Creek?" Liam didn't say anything. He just traced the word "Yuanyang" on the cup with his finger and nodded at me. "Thanks." I practically floated back to my seat, hiding my smile as I sipped my own. It was our secret, a hidden current of affection beneath a sea of professionalism. That's probably why I froze when I saw him accept a Yuanyang tea latte from Tina's hands. I had just sat down with my order when my phone exploded with notifications from Mr. Quinn. You're quitting?! Is it because of the bonus? You're a senior employee, you need to be more magnanimous... Mr. Song saw your letter. He ripped it up! He was furious! Annoyed, I blocked him, too. Then, my landlord called. "Honey, your boyfriend came by the apartment about three or four hours ago. My daughter-in-law was there, that's how I knew. I just thought I should tell you." Liam must have seen my message after his meeting and found out I was quitting. "He renewed the lease for you," she continued. "Said you'd be back." "My daughter-in-law said he tore the place apart looking for something, then grabbed his car keys and stormed out. Looked like he was on the warpath. Honey, it's the holidays, you two shouldn't be fighting." I had to laugh. Fight? I didn't have the energy for that anymore. My phone showed a notification: 99+ calls from blocked numbers. I didn't check who it was. I drank my tea, watched a movie, and when I figured it was about time, I stood up to head back to the platform. Just then, the barista called out to a new customer. "Sir, what can I get for you?" "A Yuanyang tea latte." The familiar voice cut through the café's chatter. I looked up. Liam was standing there, his face ashen, shoulders dusted with snow. He practically spat the words out. 7 "What's the matter, Mr. Song? Not too sweet for you?" I shrugged and grabbed my suitcase to leave. He snatched the suitcase with one hand and my arm with the other, dragging me out of the café. Unfortunately, the holiday travel rush meant the waiting hall was a sea of people. There was nowhere private for him to unleash his fury. He pulled me toward an exit. "Let's talk outside!" It was an exit-only door. I dug my heels in. "We can talk right here!" He settled for a less crowded corner, slamming my suitcase down. A vein pulsed in his forehead. "Anna Yuan, what is the meaning of this?!" "I'm going home for the holidays!" I glanced at the "Delayed" sign on the departures screen. "I went straight from your apartment to the station," he said, his eyes bloodshot. "I called your name. Didn't you hear me?" Still using that same boss-like tone. "Nope," I said, shaking my head. If the train hadn't been delayed, he might have actually caught me. Fate was a funny thing. "I floored it the whole way here." The snow on his shoulders had melted into a dark, damp patch. "If this train hadn't been late, you were just going to disappear, weren't you?!" Well, yeah. What else? I sighed. "I'm going home, Liam. I'm not dying." "You're angry because I misunderstood about the handover, right?" He grabbed my hand. Every single one of our fights, he always boiled it down to the one, single incident that set it off. He knew perfectly well it was just the tip of the iceberg, the last straw. I pulled my hand away. "Mr. Song, I've already resigned. I'll call you that one last time out of respect for our professional relationship. Please show some decency." "Resigned? Decency?" He let out a cold laugh. "I didn't approve your resignation, and I didn't agree to break up." "Seems like both of those are things I can decide on my own," I said, reaching for my suitcase. "Do you want to see me in arbitration? Do you want to fail your next background check?" he threatened from behind me. "Do what you want." I shook my head, unfazed. "I'm not coming back to Kingston anyway." He blocked my path again, his eyes filled with rage. "Are you serious?!" I held up my hands. "Perfectly serious. You like Tina. I'm setting you free. Shouldn't you thank me?" He grabbed my arm again, pulling me closer. "I don't like her!" A flicker of something else crossed his face. "Anna, are you jealous? Is this all because of the bonus? Is that why you're so angry?" I struggled against his grip and gestured toward a nearby patrol officer. "If you don't let go, I'm going to scream!" Instead, he pulled me into a fierce hug. "I'm holding my own girlfriend! What law am I breaking?" He held me tight, just like he used to, his shoulder cradling my chin. "It was my fault. I should have stood up for you." I tried to push him away but was hopelessly outmatched. Just as I opened my mouth to shout, the boarding announcement crackled over the speakers. "Passengers for train G946, boarding has now begun..." The crowd, which had given up hope, surged with renewed energy, pushing and shoving toward the gate. Someone carrying a huge gift box bumped into Liam, loosening his grip for a second. I seized the opportunity, slipping away and melting into the crowd heading for the gate. He tried to follow, but I ducked into the most chaotic line. People immediately started yelling at him for cutting. I breathed a sigh of relief as I finally reached the ticket scanner. I reached into my pocket. My ID and phone were gone. I turned around. Liam was standing at a distance, outside the line, a small, triumphant smile on his face. I took a deep breath and marched back to him. "What are you, eight years old?! Give them back!" He strode toward the main exit. "Come and get them." Okay, maybe seven. I ran after him. He headed straight for the parking garage, his long legs covering the ground quickly. I had to jog to keep up. "Give them back!" I was frantic, hearing the final boarding call in the distance. "You changed your lock screen. And your passcode." He stood by his car, looking at my phone. My old lock screen had been a picture of our silhouettes at an amusement park. It looked generic enough that he had "graciously" allowed me to use it. Now, it was a picture of my family's dog. The passcode was no longer his birthday, but the dog's. "Get in." He opened the passenger door. "I'll drive you home." I held out my hand, my patience worn to a thread. "Liam, are you seriously going to steal my property?!" He pushed me into the passenger seat, leaning over me with one hand on the seatback while the other pulled the seatbelt across and clicked it into place. He looked down at my furious face. "Go ahead. Call the police. Sue me. We can spend the entire holiday season tangled up in this."
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