Chapter 2
The first thing interviewers asked about was the three-year gap in my employment history.
"Why did you put your career on hold?" the interviewer asked.
Three people were seated in the conference room.
I didn't brush it off with a vague excuse about family circumstances.
"After I got married, I took on most of the responsibilities at home. At the time, I thought it was a decision we had made together. Looking back, I realize I gave up my own career path," I said.
One of the interviewers flipped through my project proposal.
"Commercial districts have changed dramatically over the past three years. What makes you think you can still do the job?" one of the interviewers asked.
"That's why I'm not asking to be hired outright," I said, pushing the supplementary materials across the table. They contained my analysis of tenant distribution, customer traffic by time period, and movement patterns based on two weeks of on-site research.
"Experience can become outdated, but analytical and execution skills can be rebuilt. Whether I deserve to move on to the next round can be decided by this proposal," I said.
Charles Goodman, sitting on the far right, hadn't said a word the whole time.
He was my former boss, and when I resigned, he was the only person who asked me, "Are you sure you won't regret this?"
It wasn't until the interview was over that he finally closed the folder.
"The process will be the same as for every other candidate. You'll be notified of the second-round interview decision within a week," he said.
"Got it," I replied.
As I stood up, he called out to stop me. "Grace."
I turned around.
Charles said, "Don't feel like you have to lower your standards just because we know each other."
"And I don't want you to expect more from me just because we know each other," I replied.
He nodded. "Got it."
Only after I stepped out of the building did I finally let out a long breath.
My phone buzzed.
Leonard transferred $30,000 to me with a single note: [Take care of things at home first.]
Then, his call came in.
"My mom went in for her checkup today, but she missed her slot. She's getting older and can't handle all this back-and-forth," Leonard said.
"The appointment reminder was sent to your phone," I said.
"I was in a meeting," Leonard said.
"That's why you should have arranged it in advance," Grace replied.
"You always used to take care of these things," Leonard said.
I stood by the roadside, watching the crowd stream past me.
"That was before," I said.
"If the money isn't enough, say so. Don't take your anger out on my mother," he said, holding back his temper.
I sent the money back and forwarded him the contact change form again.
"I'm not doing this out of spite. If she misses another appointment, that's on you, not me," I said.
"Grace," Leonard called my name, his voice suddenly softening.
"Come back. I'll have my personal assistant take over some of the household matters. You've always wanted to get back to work, haven't you? I'm not against it," Leonard said.
His words made me pause for a few seconds.
Three years ago, when I resigned, he had said the same thing: once things at home settled down, I could go back to work whenever I wanted.
But after his mother left the hospital came rehabilitation, then the move, then one family obligation after another.
Every time, he told me to wait a little longer.
Now he was finally willing to let me go back to work. But there was still a condition: I had to come back to him first.
"I'm already job hunting," I said.
"Which company? I can have someone put in a good word for you," Leonard offered.
"No need," I replied.
"Is there any point in drawing such a clear line between us?" Leonard asked.
"Yes. At least this way, I know who this opportunity belongs to," I said.
That evening, Sophie Carter, a brand consultant for Leonard's company, posted an update on social media.
In the photo, she and Leonard were standing side by side in front of the event's signature wall.
Leonard turned his head to listen as she spoke. Her caption read: [Finally, no more hiding.]
Ten minutes later, she sent me a private message.
[Ms. Bennett, since you've decided to walk away, don't make things difficult for everyone.]
I didn't reply. I simply saved a screenshot of her post.
Half an hour later, she changed the caption to [Work photo.]
Leonard texted me: [I had her change it. It was only a photo from the event. Don't overthink it.]
I couldn't take my eyes off the word "change."
He changed the caption, not the nature of their relationship.
Much less the place she held in his life—the one that had made Sophie think she could finally go public.