He Wouldn’t Let Me Touch His Door, But She Wore His Shirt Chapter 10

He Wouldn’t Let Me Touch His Door, But She Wore His Shirt Chapter 10

The metropolitan project turned out to be an incredible success.

The corporate client renewed our contract for the second quarter and actively introduced me to two

new major accounts.

I began to seriously map out the process of launching my own independent consulting firm.

Valerie offered to come on as an early investor and partner, and we were already reviewing the

corporate registration paperwork.

My life was improving at a visible, rapid pace.

Three months later, I moved into a brand-new apartment.

It featured a massive, south-facing bay window that allowed the afternoon sun to completely flood

the living room floor.

The bathroom had a beautiful, deep tub.

I picked it out myself.

I bought a stock of rose-scented bath bombs that were on sale at the grocery store, costing me

about eight dollars a pop.

I could soak for as long as I wanted.

There was no one around to tell me they couldn’t stand anyone else using their space.

On the day the firm was officially registered, Valerie flew in from out of town. The two of us popped

a bottle of champagne right in the center of the unfinished office space.

“To new beginnings,” she toasted.

“To new beginnings,” I echoed.

I took a sip, realizing my days had never felt this light and unburdened.

Late one evening, Valerie forwarded me a screenshot from an old professional network chat.

After resigning, Julian hadn’t gone back to his original city, but he hadn’t been able to secure an equivalent position at any major hospital either.

He had gone through rounds of interviews, resulting in consecutive rejections.

The top-tier medical centers wouldn’t take the risk on him, and the mid-tier community hospitals were wary of the gap in his employment history combined with the blow to his professional

reputation.

Ultimately, he had taken a job at a small, private urgent care clinic, working a standard shift

rotation.

Valerie added a piece of lingering gossip.

The public apology he had posted, alongside the entire Alyssa scandal, had made the rounds

through the medical community.

Coupled with the fact that he had abandoned a prestigious position to follow an ex-girlfriend to a new city, his former colleagues had quietly categorized him as possessing a borderline obsessive

personality.

No major institution was willing to assume that kind of liability.

[I heard he’s renting a tiny studio apartment now,] Valerie wrote. [The clinic salary is barely a third of what he used to make. He had to break the lease on that minimalist condo a long time ago.]

I looked at the text message.

I didn’t feel a surge of malicious satisfaction.

Nor did I feel a single pang of pity.

I simply understood a basic truth.

Every choice a person makes eventually loops back to find them.

I typed back to Valerie, [Got it. Has nothing to do with me.]

I closed the chat window and went straight back to editing the strategy deck on my screen.

On Sunday afternoon, I went down to my favorite neighborhood cafe by myself.

I wasn’t waiting for anyone.

The single-origin pour-over there was simply exceptional.

I sat by the floor-to-ceiling glass window, the warm sunshine pouring across the table.

My phone rang.

It was my mom.

“Sweetie, that tech director guy was a total bust. Your aunt just found another candidate-

“Mom, don’t worry about it,” I interrupted with a laugh. “I’m doing really well right now. Being on

my own is actually perfect.”

She let out a soft sigh, choosing not to press the issue further.

Before hanging up, she mumbled, “Just make sure you’re eating right. Don’t go skipping meals.

“I will,” I said, lowering the phone.

I took a slow sip of my coffee.

Outside the glass, people were walking their dogs, joggers were pacing the sidewalk, and couples were crossing the street hand-in-hand.

It was an entirely ordinary day.

But every single choice from here on out was mine to make.

Every single door I encountered would be opened by my own hand.

I would never need anyone to dole out a key to me as a favor again.

The world ahead was vast and open.

I kept walking forward, and I never looked back.