Gianna's POV
I was fixing my skirt when Gael walked into the room. She frowned and stepped closer to me.
"Where are you going?" she asked.
I walked toward the bed before answering.
"It's Monday. I have work," I said simply.
She froze.
"Tell me I heard that wrong," she said, her brows knitting together. I didn't answer.
I sat on the bed and reached for my sandals.
"You're really going back there?" she asked irritably, sitting beside me.
"I thought you were going to resign."
"I'm not resigning," I replied calmly. I knew that was what everyone expected of me.
But no—I wasn't running away again. I wasn't leaving this time.
I wanted to show them that I didn't care anymore, that I was done being used.
"The company needs me, Gael," I said. "You know how serious the company's situation is right now, don't you?"
She scoffed in frustration.
"So are you going back because of the company—or because you still want to help him?"
I paused at her question. I let out a sigh before turning to face her.
"I'm not going back for him. I'm going back because I want to help the people working there—people who will lose their jobs if the company shuts down completely. And you're one of them."
She didn't reply, so I continued getting ready.
"Fine. Go back," she said at last. "But break up with him."
"I'm not breaking up with him."
She stood up sharply.
"Are you really that stupid, Gianna? You won't break up with him? What—are you going to let yourself be fooled again—"
"Because we were never together," I cut in.
She stopped.
"W-what?"
"We were never together, Gael. So I don't have the right to break up with him."
I checked the time on my phone.
"It's already 8:00 a.m. I'll head out now."
"You gave him everything even without a label? What kind of stupidity is that?"
She kept talking, but I ignored her and walked out of the room.
It had been three days since I last went to work. I only heard about the company's major problem recently—the largest wine factory in Cebu had burned down.
It was a huge loss, so I had to set everything else aside. I didn't want people to lose their jobs because of what happened.
But I couldn't lie to myself and say I was okay.
I wasn't.
My chest still tightened whenever I walked through the hallway where memories of the two of us lingered.
It still hurt every time I stepped into the elevator, because I couldn't erase the memory of the gentle hand that once held mine.
And I could barely move my feet as I approached his office.
I wanted to pretend I was strong—like I didn't care anymore when I faced him—but even before I stepped inside, my hands started trembling. I hated myself for how deeply his actions still affected me.
So now, I had to face it.
I took a deep breath and opened the door.
But his chair was empty.
I wanted to ask where he was, but I stopped myself. I was about to head straight to my desk when someone called out to me. When I turned around, I saw a man standing by the door, smiling brightly.
"Gianna? Is that you?" His smile widened as he walked closer.
"It really is you!" he said excitedly.
I frowned. He looked so familiar.
Did I know him?
Why did he feel like someone I'd seen before?
"Hey! Don't tell me you don't recognize me?" he laughed.
"It's me—Ken!"
"Ken?" I asked, confused.
"Come on! Ken Ferril? We were classmates in high school! We were even seatmates!"
I paused as the memory suddenly surfaced.
"Oh! Ken Ferril—the school's playboy brat," I said, nodding.
His smile disappeared.
I laughed.
"I swear, I've changed," he said.
Only then did I really look at him—he was the popular student back then, known for being rich and a playboy. He had changed a lot… and he'd grown even taller.
"I never thought we'd meet again," he said, his energy returning. If anything, he seemed even more talkative now.
"So what are you doing here?" I asked, finally sitting at my desk. "Applying for a job?"
"Of course not. I'll be a lawyer soon—why would I work? That would be a waste of time."
I didn't know why I still wasn't used to his arrogant attitude.
He grabbed a chair, pulled it in front of my desk, and sat down.
"Besides, I'm here to help a friend," he added.
I nodded and opened my laptop.
"Where's Francis, anyway?" he suddenly asked, making me freeze.
I wanted to ask why—but I couldn' t.
"Why is he taking so long? He told me to wait here. That jerk," he muttered.
The room fell silent for a few minutes before he looked at me again.
"You're his secretary, right? Can you call him? I'm getting bored."
I bit my lip, unsure whether I should do what he asked.
"You look pale. Are you alright?"
We both turned toward the door as it opened.
"Hey, jerk! You're three minutes late!" Ken shouted at Francis, who was now looking in our direction.
I immediately looked away when our eyes met.
I felt him walk toward his desk, but for some reason, it felt like his gaze was still on me.
"So, what can I do for you, my friend?" Ken said.
I couldn't see them—I kept my head down, forcing my attention onto my laptop.
A few seconds passed, but Francis didn't answer.
"Huh? What did I miss?" Ken asked.
"And why are you staring at your secretary like that? You look creepy," he whispered—but I heard it, and my hands froze.
I didn't want to look up. I didn't want our eyes to meet again.
Suddenly, I stood up and walked out without looking back.
Once I was outside, I took a deep breath.
I didn't think I could last even a full day being in the same place as him.
Maybe I'd just come back after they were done talking.