The hallway feels colder than usual as I make my way to Susan’s office. Every step feels like walking through mud. My stomach twists tighter the closer I get.
When I reach her door, I hesitate.
Then I knock.
“Come in,” she calls.
I push it open.
She looks up and immediately freezes.
“Oh, Amelia.”
Her voice softens instantly.
She stands, walking around her desk. “Sit down.”
The second I sit, the mask I’ve been wearing cracks.
“You saw him,” she says gently.
I nod.
“At the bar.”
Another nod.
“With someone else.”
That’s the one that makes my throat close.
“Yes.”
Her eyes search my face, and I see something there.
Not just sympathy.
Something heavier.
Guilt.
I draw in a shaky breath.
“I don’t know how I got here,” I whisper. “I don’t know how something that felt so real. So safe. Turned into that.”
Susan doesn’t interrupt.
“He told me he loved me,” I continue, my voice breaking. “He stood in your office and said it. He said he’d leave the team for me. And then two days later I walk into a bar and he’s letting some girl hang all over him like I never existed.”
My chest tightens so hard it feels like I can’t breathe.
“I keep replaying it,” I say, pressing my fingers into my temples. “Was it all a lie? Was I just convenient? Was I naïve?”
“No,” Susan says firmly.
Tears spill over anyway.
“I feel stupid,” I whisper. “Kamden warned me. You warned me about players. About optics. About consequences. And I still let myself fall.”
