Chapter 3

The morning sunlight filtered softly through the sheer curtains. I opened my eyes, momentarily disoriented, unsure of where I was.

I stared up at an unfamiliar ceiling, lying in a bed I didn't recognize, with a city skyline outside the window that felt just as foreign.

Then it hit me. This was Molly's guest room. I had left Shane behind.

My phone screen lit up, showing five missed calls, all of which were from Shane. Two text messages from him followed. One said: [Bring my navy suit to the office tomorrow morning.]

Another said: [Enough with the drama. Answer your phone.]

I let out a cold laugh and deleted the message. After five years, he still thought I existed to serve him. Couldn't he find the navy suit himself? I knew there were thirty custom suits in his closet because I arranged them all.

Molly breezed in with coffee and toast, greeting me cheerfully, "Morning. I made breakfast. Eat up. We've got a big day ahead."

"A big day?" I echoed, a bit confused.

Molly grinned as she thrust the coffee into my hands and said, "Time to restart your life. First things first, you need a job. If I remember right, you majored in environmental design in college?"

I nodded, absentmindedly rubbing my coffee cup's rim. It felt like another life. At the graduation exhibition, my project "Flowing Space" won high praise, and several companies offered me jobs on the spot.

With a frown and a dismissive tone, Shane asked, "Don't tell me you're thinking of going back to design? I need your help during this critical startup phase. We can discuss your career once the company is stable."

And just like that, five years slipped by.

"Am I still cut out for this?" I whispered. "It's been five years since I last did any design work."

"Of course you can," Molly patted me on the shoulder and said. "You're Stella. Even your professors raved about your talent back in college. All you need now is to brush up on your design software skills."

After breakfast, Molly grabbed my hand and pulled me to her computer, quickly opening several job sites.

She clicked open a link and continued, "Ink Spot Design is hiring junior designers with less than three years of experience, It's perfect for your fresh start. And here's Forest Space Studio, small but well-regarded in the industry."

My heart raced as I scanned the job descriptions. The technical terms and software names felt both familiar and foreign. It was like reuniting with long-lost friends.

"Can... I really do this?" I asked in a low voice.

"Who knows until you try?" Molly said, opening my email and tidying my resume. "Update your college portfolio quickly. I know Forest Space Studio's marketing director. I can recommend you. "

I took a deep breath and nodded firmly.

After five stagnant years, I finally felt alive again, like a dormant seed-sensing spring.

For the next three days, I holed up in Molly's study, reacquainting myself with design software and organizing my portfolio.

Fortunately, I had meticulously preserved all my design blueprints and model photos from college. Now, they became my greatest professional asset.

On the fourth morning, I slipped into the beige blazer and black turtleneck sweater Molly had picked out for me, ready to head to my interview at Forest Space Studio.

"Perfect," Molly circled around me, grinning. "You look so professional and stylish. This outfit is way better than those dull secretary ones you used to wear at Griffin Group."

Studying my reflection, I finally saw a change. My eyes sparkled with energy from the past few busy days, and for once, my smile felt real, not forced or strained.

At the door, Molly gave me a tight hug and said encouragingly, "You can do it. Come straight to my office after the interview. Tonight, I'm treating you to a fancy dinner to celebrate."

Forest Space Studio sat atop a historic city office building. Its industrial-chic space featured exposed red brick, steel beams, natural wood, and lush greenery. This was exactly the kind of workspace I loved.

By the time the receptionist led me into the conference room, my palms were already slick with nervous sweat.

Three interviewers sat across the long conference table from me. In the center was a woman in her early forties, sporting a sharp bob and piercing eyes.

"Stella?" she asked, scanning my resume. "Molly recommended you, and I'm interested."

"Thank you so much for giving me this opportunity," I said, a little nervously handing over my portfolio with both hands.

She flipped to the first page where my graduation project "Flowing Space" showed, blending a traditional courtyard with a modern loft. Her eyebrows rose in interest as she continued reviewing the portfolio.

"Your work shows great creativity," she remarked, "but your resume indicates you haven't worked in design since graduation."

"Yes," I admitted frankly, "I've been doing administrative work at Griffin Group for the past five years."

Her tone sharpened with professional interest as she asked, "The Griffin Group? Shane Griffin's company?"

I nodded without elaborating.

The interviewers exchanged knowing glances. Maybe they recognized Shane's name. Maybe they even knew about our past relationship.

"How are your software skills?" one of the interviewers asked. "It's been five years since you last used them. They must be a bit rusty, right?"

"I've been brushing up on AutoCAD, SketchUp, and 3D Max these past few days," I said as I opened my laptop to display some practice samples. "These are what I've created over the last three days."

The short-haired woman, Ruby Lynch, the design director, carefully reviewed my files and gave an approving nod.

She locked eyes with me and asked, "One last question, what motivates you to return to the design field now?"

I met her gaze and gave the answer I'd pondered for three days. "Because I want to find myself again," I replied.

The conference room fell silent for a few seconds.

Ruby suddenly smiled and asked, "Can you start Monday? You'll be a Junior Designer with a three-month probation."

I stood there in a daze, barely able to process what I'd just heard until she extended her hand with a smile. "Welcome to Forest Space Studio."

As I stepped out of the office building, I was greeted by perfect sunshine.

I took a deep breath and texted Molly: [I did it. I'll start work on Monday.]

For the first time in five years, I did the unthinkable. I powered off my phone.

Today, I just wanted peace, with no interruptions from anyone, least of all Shane.

On Monday morning, I stepped into Forest Space Studio in my newly bought navy blue dress and was shown to a workstation by the window.

The computer was already set up, with a tiny succulent and a handwritten welcome card on the desk.

Ruby placed a stack of documents on the desk. "This is your first assignment," she said. "Interior styling for the Galaxy Bay model apartment. The client needs a preliminary proposal by the end of the week."

I opened the documents and saw a model apartment design for a high-end residential project that was compact in size but premium in style.

I spent the whole day poring over the client's requirements and sketching designs, so absorbed in my work that I completely lost track of time and even skipped lunch.

During the afternoon break, Yasmin Taylor came over and asked, "Hey, wanna grab some coffee?"

Yasmin, the company's senior designer, sported a sleek bob haircut and never minced her words.

Over coffee, she asked curiously, "I heard you used to work at Griffin Group? What made you switch to a boutique firm like ours?"

"I want to be a designer," I replied simply.

"Smart choice," Yasmin said, stirring her coffee. "At Griffin Group, women are either just there for show or work drones. But..." She gave me a knowing look. "Do you think Shane would let you walk away that easily?"

My heart skipped a beat. "You know me?"

Yasmin chuckled, "Everyone knows you're Mrs. Griffin. Ms. Lynch said not to pry, but don't worry. At Forest Space Studio, we skip office politics. What counts here is performance."

Back at the office, I threw myself into my work with even greater focus.

As I was leaving work, Ruby stopped by my desk and glanced at my draft proposal. She gave me a rare approving look and said, "Good thinking. Keep at it tomorrow."

My new chapter at Forest Space Studio had begun.

Every morning, I arrived at the office right on time, and most nights, I ended up working late into the night.

On weekends, I practically lived in the library and design bookshops, feverishly catching up on five years' worth of industry knowledge I'd missed.

Molly joked, "It's like you're cramming five years' worth of living into these days."

After two intense weeks, I finally completed the entire design proposal for the Galaxy Bay project.

Ruby gathered the team for a review, and to my surprise, my proposal was met with overwhelmingly positive feedback.

"The space utilization is innovative, and the color palette is bold," Ruby commented. "I'm especially impressed by this modular partition design. It's both functional and artistic."

After the meeting, she called me into her office. "We'll be bidding on a mixed-use commercial complex next month, and I want you on the lead design team," she said.

My eyes widened in disbelief. "Me? But I've only been here for less than a month," I asked.

Ruby locked eyes with me and continued, "It's your design instincts I value, not your experience. Any problem with that?"

"Not at all," I blurted out. "Thank you so much for your trust."

Stepping out of the office, I felt so light on my feet I could practically float.

For the first time in five years, I finally felt that my worth wasn't tied to anyone. It came from my own true abilities and hard work.

As I was leaving work, I spotted a very familiar figure in the lobby. It was Shane.

Standing out sharply from the crowd, he leaned against a marble pillar in his impeccably tailored black suit.

Our eyes locked across the lobby. My heart skipped a beat as he pushed off from where he was leaning and strode toward me.

Shane called my name in a low, restrained voice. "Stella, why haven't you been answering my calls?"

I instinctively took half a step back. "What do you want?"

He repeated my words with a scowl, "What do I want? You've been gone for two weeks, and that's all you can say?"

We're divorced, I said evenly. "You're the one who gave me the divorce agreement."

"That was," he lowered his voice, "just a temporary fix. You know how important the project Lily leads is to the company."

I looked at him and felt the whole thing was absurd. For five years, he always made excuses by focusing on the startup and important clients. Now even our divorce was just a temporary fix to him.

"I'm leaving," I said, stepping around him and heading straight for the exit.

He grabbed my wrist and offered, "I'll drive you."

"No, I have my own plans," I said firmly, wrenching my hand free from his grip.

His voice sharpened with irritation as he asked, "Plans? Where are you staying now? What exactly are you doing?"

"None of your business," I said, walking out the door without so much as a backward glance and hailing a cab.

I saw in the rearview mirror that Shane stood rooted to the spot, his face darkened with barely contained fury.

This was the first time I had ever refused him. It was the very first time I said no.

Back home, Molly was cozily curled up on the couch, watching a movie.

Setting down my bag, I poured myself a glass of water and said, "Guess who showed up at my office today?"

"Shane?" Molly paused the movie. "He tracked you down at Forest Space Studio?"

I nodded and told her what had happened. Molly let out a low whistle and added, "Well, this is going to be fun. Looks like it's the first time Mr. Griffin's ever tasted rejection."

I shook my head with a wry smile and said, "He still thinks I'll just come crawling back like before. How utterly ridiculous."

"But you need to be careful," Molly said, her voice suddenly turning serious. "Shane isn't the type to give up easily. He might..."

Before Molly could finish her sentence, my phone rang. Shane's name flashed on the screen. Molly and I locked eyes and shared a resigned sigh.

"Gonna answer it?" Molly asked.

I declined, "No."

In the following days, Shane's harassment intensified.

He started with calls and texts, then arranged chance encounters after work.

He began sending lavish red roses to the office, a new bouquet arriving daily. Everyone came with a card bearing nothing but a brief apology: [I'm sorry.]

Yasmin eyed the fifth bouquet of white roses and gave a low whistle. Then she asked, "Well, has Mr. Griffin turned over a new leaf?"

"Take them if you want," I said without looking up, still revising the proposal for the upcoming bid.

As Ruby passed by my workstation, she cast me a knowing glance and said pointedly, "Keep your personal life from affecting your work."

"Won't happen," I assured her.

On Friday afternoon, the company organized a team-building hike in a nearby forest park.

After the team-building event, we split up at the park entrance, and I walked alone toward the subway station.

"Stella," Shane's voice suddenly called out from behind. I quickened my pace, but he caught up in a few strides and blocked my way.

He said, his tone uncharacteristically gentle, "We need to talk."

"There's nothing left to say," I said coolly, stepping sideways to avoid him.

"Just five minutes," Shane insisted. "Give me five minutes. If you still don't want to see me after that, I swear I'll leave you alone for good."

We sat on opposite ends of the park bench, a deliberate distance between us.

Shane looked weary, with faint dark circles under his eyes and his tie hanging loosely around his neck.

"I looked into your new job," he said dismissively. "Forest Space Studio? It's just a small design firm. Their revenue last year was barely one percent of Griffin Group's."

I clenched my fists and asked, "So what?"

He turned to me with a condescending tone and said, "So, why? If you want to work, Griffin Group's design department is always open to you, or you can start your own company. I'll invest in it."

As I looked at him, it became clear why we never truly connected. To him, I had only two options: to cling to him dependently or to meekly accept whatever limited goodwill he decided to grant.

"I love my current job," I said calmly. "I take pride in being recognized for my abilities."

"What kind of career prospects could you possibly have at some small-time firm like that?" he asked, his tone laced with condescending puzzlement.

"That's none of your concern," I said as I stood up. "Your five minutes are up."

He stood up after me and said, "Stella, come home. The house is just... too quiet without you."

Those words felt like a gentle knife, slicing through my heart. For five years, I waited for him every single night, no matter how late he came home. He wanted me back just because the house was too quiet.

"That was never my home," I said softly. "Not ever."

I turned and walked away without a backward glance, never seeing the rare lost look on Shane's face.

Over the weekend, I was curled up on Molly's balcony, polishing my bid proposal when my phone buzzed. It was a text from an unknown number.

Yale sent a message: [Ms. Xander, this is Yale. I've heard so much about you. Would you honor me with a coffee meeting? Zimmer Enterprise has a project where we'd greatly value your professional input.]

I stared at the screen, frowning. Yale? The heir of Zimmer Enterprise and the main business rival of Griffin Group. How did he even know me? And what did he want with me?

Just as I was hesitating over how to reply, Molly poked her head over. "What's up? Who messaged you?" she asked.

I handed her my phone. Molly's eyes went wide as she read. "Yale? That's a big catch," she called out.

"Should I reply?"

"Absolutely," Molly exclaimed excitedly. "Zimmer Enterprise's design projects are always big deals, and picture Shane's face when he finds out." She gave a sly wink.

I shook my head and added, "I don't want to take advantage of this situation."

Molly grew serious and continued, "Let's look at this from a professional standpoint. Zimmer Enterprise is developing a major cultural and creative complex right now, and they need top designers. This could be your big break, Stella."

After a moment's thought, I replied, [Thank you for the invitation. However, I am currently employed by Forest Space Studio. For any collaboration needs, I suggest contacting our business department directly. Best regards.]

The moment I hit send, a strange peace settled over me.

Five years ago, I would have panicked, worrying about Shane's reaction.

Two weeks ago, I might have met him just to rebel.

But now, I just wanted to carve out my path on my own.

The phone vibrated again with a message from Yale: [I respect your professional ethics. I've contacted Forest Space Studio and sent an official collaboration request. Looking forward to our cooperation and professional exchange.]

I set my phone aside and refocused on my design project.

Sunlight illuminated the sketches, making every stroke and hue come alive.

This was my life, my choice.

And Shane was finally no longer the one controlling my life.