You Were Better When I Was Gone Chapter 12
End of July, Phase Two contract was officially signed. The ceremony was held in a modest conference room. Not huge, but everyone who mattered was there.
When I spoke for the team, my voice was steady, not a single stumble.
After the final sentence, I sat down and saw Nathan across the table, smiling at me. He mouthed: “Awesome.”
Afterward, he came over. “Dinner tonight, to celebrate.”
“How come you’re always treating me?”
“Because you deserve it.”
That night we sat at a riverside restaurant, warm lights glowing.
He asked, “What’s next?”
“Contract’s for three years. Focus on that first.”
“All three years in London?”
“Yeah.”
He nodded. “Good.”
“What’s good?”
He didn’t answer directly. Just raised his glass. “To Ms. Sarah’s next three years.”
I clinked mine with his. “Thank you, Nathan, for the past six months.”
“It’s not ‘looking after you,'” he set down his glass. “It’s something I want to do.”
I looked into his eyes, clean, genuine admiration. No pity. No condescending protectiveness. No “you poor thing, let me save you” energy.
Just someone looking at someone and saying: I choose to be here.
“Nathan.”
“Mm?”
“Are you trying to date me?”
He blinked. Then laughed. “Busted.”
“You couldn’t have built up to that a little more?”
“I’ve been building up for six months, Sarah. Are you really that oblivious, or are you pretending?”
I choked. “Don’t call me oblivious.”
His smile softened. “Okay, I won’t. What should I call you?”
“Just my name.”
“Sarah.”
“Mm.”
“Sarah. Sarah. Sarah.”
“You’re doing it again.”
He laughed, head tilting back, starlight reflected in his eyes. “Then will you consider it?”
“Consider what?”
“Letting me officially pursue you.”
I looked down at my glass, amber liquid flickering under the light.
“I’ll think about it.”
He didn’t ask how long. Just said: “Take your time. I’ll wait.”
That night, I walked home slowly.
July nights in London were still cool. But my chest was warm.
At the apartment entrance, my phone buzzed.
A text from an unfamiliar number.
“Sarah, I’m in London. I’m downstairs.”
I looked up.
Beneath the streetlamp by the entrance, Luke stood there.
This time he hadn’t come a week early. He’d just appeared. No lemon tart. No paper bag. Standing there like he’d been there a long time.
When he saw me, he straightened. From five or six meters away, he spoke.
“Sarah, I forced Sophie to drop the report.”
“Legal’s already closed the case.”
I didn’t move. “So?”
“So…” His voice was low, like something was stuck in his throat. “So I wanted to say, I’m sorry.”
The wind blew off the river. I looked at him. For the first time in eight years, he’d said I’m sorry.
Not don’t be mad. Not she didn’t mean it. Not next time. Just, I’m sorry.
“Luke.”
“Yeah.”
“That apology came way too late.”
His shoulders sagged a little. “I know.”
“And you know what else?”
“What?”
I looked him in the eye. “I don’t need it anymore.”
The streetlamp carved shadows across his face. I saw his fingers curl and release. “Sarah, I”
“Don’t,” I cut him off, voice calm. “Go home.”
I walked past him into the building. As the door swung shut, his reflection stayed in the glass, still standing there. He didn’t follow.
The elevator doors closed. I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes. Took a deep breath.
Emma opened the door and looked at me. “You okay?”
“Nothing.” I smiled, slipped off my shoes, and walked in. “Can you set my alarm for tomorrow’s morning meeting?”
“Working overtime again?”
“No.” I dropped onto the couch, staring at the ceiling. “I want to get to the office early tomorrow.”
Because tomorrow would bring a new day, new work, new days that were truly mine. I didn’t need an apology to keep going. I didn’t need someone to chase me to prove I was worthy.
Sarah was Sarah. Not Dummy. Not Slowpoke. Not anyone’s sidekick.
Outside, London’s lights burned all night. I slept deeply and didn’t dream.