237 Ks Zero Fs Chapter 12
After a month of adjusting in London, I officially onboarded at the UK division.
The salary and rank were a significant jump from Seattle headquarters.
As a senior engineer with extensive complex-terrain survey experience, I took over several core projects and was primarily responsible for training the new batch of European staff.
The daily routine was simple: site surveys with the new hires, then sketching personal design ideas in a café along the Thames during downtime. Life was relaxed and fulfilling.
I gradually got used to buying seafood at Borough Market alone, wandering Tate Modern alone, reading in my apartment with its working fireplace alone. I savored this rare peace.
Career and self. Both complete.
A year passed.
The gray, rainy memories of Seattle grew blurrier. Conor’s image faded like an old Polaroid left too long in the sun.
A bridge design I’d done won a major industry award. I was smoothly promoted to Regional Technical Director.
For the promotion, the company booked out a Michelin-starred restaurant in Soho for the celebration.
I stood on the small stage in a tailored suit, champagne in hand, listening to the thunderous applause of my colleagues below. Pure, solid pride filled my chest.
I had a respected and prominent career. A spacious apartment in a wealthy London neighborhood. Friends around me who were on my wavelength.
On long holidays I could visit vineyards in Tuscany, ski in Switzerland, do whatever pleased me.
I would never again break down sobbing late at night because of some man’s dismissive reply.
Never again lower myself into the dirt, begging for scraps of so-called “favor.”