With All My Heart

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On New Year's Eve, I ran into Steven Constantini at an upscale restaurant near the office.

I was there late, closing a deal.

He was there with his secretary, enjoying a candlelight dinner.

Our eyes met across the room. The smile vanished from his face, replaced by a deep frowna silent warning.

As I choked down glass after glass of wine I couldn't refuse, enduring the predatory gaze of my client, the night sky outside suddenly exploded with the New Year's fireworks he'd arranged just for her.

The brilliant flashes reflected in my eyes, searing my heart.

After finally securing the last contract of the year, I calmly made a phone call.

"Mom, I've agreed to break up with him. Please arrange for me to go abroad next week."

I walked aimlessly down the street, still on the phone. The last night of the year was exceptionally cold. A freezing rain fell, and the wind cut straight to the bone.

The midnight bells began to chime, followed by cheers from the passersby. I looked up and saw a line of text scrolling across the massive screen of the Constantini Industries headquarters.

"To the most beautiful and capable rising star at Constantini Industries, Lyla. Happy New Year."

Even on the first day of the new year, her name was inescapable.

The envious murmurs of the crowd carried through the phone.

My mother's voice was laced with fury. "That's outrageous! I'm going to have a word with Arthur."

"Don't bother, Mom. I'm leaving anyway."

I ended the call, my voice flat. The crushing weight in my chest wasn't as suffocating as it used to be. But seeing the two-hour wait time on the rideshare app sent a spike of irritation through me.

A jarring honk broke the night's quiet. Steven's car was shadowing me, keeping a steady, close distance. Lyla leaned out from the passenger seat, waving enthusiastically.

"Josie! Are you heading home?"

"Yes," I answered evenly.

She let out an exaggerated sigh of pity, practically melting against Steven. "Oh, the wait for a ride tonight is going to be ages. We're going your way, but it's such a shame Steven bought me so many gifts. The back seat is completely full, otherwise we could have given you a lift."

I stopped and peered through the car window. I could just make out a massive bouquet of flowers occupying most of the back seat.

Before I could get a better look, a suit jacket was thrown hard against my face. I caught it instinctively as Steven's sneer cut through the air.

"Cover up that reek of alcohol. It's disgusting. I don't want you getting a complaint filed against the company because you stunk up someone's car."

The heavy fabric of the jacket stung my cheek. I watched his taillights disappear down the street. Then, I took the jacketthe one I had personally ironed for him, now carrying the scent of another womanand tossed it into a nearby clothing donation bin.

It was three hours later when I finally got home.

The house was brightly lit but empty. He must have gone out again.

I thought I was used to it.

But when the steam from the hot shower fogged up the bathroom mirror, revealing the ghost of two handprints, pressed intimately together, the alcohol in my stomach churned violently. I retched, a bitter mix of bile and tears.

By the time I emerged from the bathroom, the sky was beginning to lighten. Two unread messages were on my phone.

One was a flight confirmation. The other was from Steven.

Something came up. Not coming home.

I scrolled up. Our conversations over the past year were practically nonexistent. Mostly just his terse, two-word reply of "I'm busy" after I'd left a storm of hysterical, unanswered calls.

I opened Lyla's social media, a familiar, masochistic ritual. As always, a perfectly curated nine-photo grid greeted me. Nine hundred and ninety-nine roses, the New Year's fireworks... and in the center, a mirror selfie of her and Steven in a tight embrace.

I recognized the place. It was Steven's property on the west side of the city.

In the corner of the mirror, I could see the Zootopia sticker we'd brought back from a movie date. It was now soaked through, a limp, pathetic smear against the glass.

Utterly sickening.

Steven didn't come home for the next few days. The housekeeper was on holiday, leaving me to drift through the vast, empty house like a ghost. Only the timely arrival of takeout deliveries reminded me that time was still passing.

Cajun shrimp, Szechuan noodles, ghost pepper wings...

When the fifth spicy takeout box appeared on the table, I finally snapped. I swept everything into the trash, took a picture, and sent it to Steven.

Stop ordering. I'm not the one who likes spicy food.

His call came almost immediately. His voice was a husky, post-coital rasp, laced with annoyance.

"Are you pulling that hunger strike nonsense again? Fine. Just don't call me when you end up back in the hospital."

Lyla's playful, conciliatory voice chirped in the background. "You should just try it, Josie! Steven and I tasted them all, they're super delicious!"

"Ignore her," Steven grumbled. "She can eat it or not."

I pressed my lips together, fighting the urge to ask the humiliating question.

Steven, you remember I have stomach problems and need to eat regular meals. Do you also remember it was spicy food that put me in the hospital in the first place?

The words died in my throat. All I managed to say was, "I'll order my own food."

"Hah, order your own?" he repeated, his tone dripping with disdain before he scoffed. "Josie, you don't want food. You just want money, don't you?"

"Josie, you and your mother are only after my family's money, aren't you?"

The mocking voice from a year ago merged with the present, hitting me with the same devastating force.

A tear splashed onto the dining table. When I came back to myself, the line was dead. A bank notification showed a transfer of fifteen thousand dollars. It was followed by a voice message from Steven.

"Five thousand for food, ten thousand for your trouble. Lyla's bra strap fell into the sofa cushion. Find it and bring it to her at work on Monday."

I moved the couple's throw pillows from the sofa and found the black strap tucked deep in the crevice.

Steven and I had picked out this sofa together at a furniture store. I had fallen in love with it the moment I saw it. He had tested its firmness and grinned in agreement.

"Perfect size. We should get a couple of throw pillows, too. Make it a little more... comfortable for us."

The words of lovers in their honeymoon phase, always tinged with a playful heat.

I had playfully scolded him, and he had just laughed. We went on like that, picking out one piece after another, building the home of our dreams.

But now, looking at the things I had so carefully chosen, sharing the same space with him and another woman... all I felt was a deep, nauseating revulsion.

Since I was leaving, I might as well throw it all away.

I worked from dawn until dusk. Eight years of a relationship, reduced to five boxes of junk and a single suitcase.

After confirming that not a single trace of me was left in the house, the knot in my stomach finally began to loosen.

Only one thing remained.

I took a photo album from the bedside drawer. Inside were two hundred and seventy-nine pictures, each one torn to pieces and then painstakingly taped back together.

From our high school graduation, through college, to moving in together and starting our careers, the photos chronicled our entire youth together.

The last picture was from New Year's Eve last year. We were raising our glasses under a sky full of fireworks, celebrating our seventh anniversary.

Three days after that photo was taken, at a family dinner, my widowed mother and Steven's divorced father announced they wanted to spend the rest of their lives together.

Steven's expression never changed. He agreed. I was happy for them.

But when we got back to our apartment, he tore that last photo to shreds and threw it in my face.

"Josie, you and your mother are just alike. You're parasites, just after our money. 'Bringing the families closer'? Don't make me sick."

I stood there, stunned and helpless, as he unleashed his fury. We had both learned the news at the same time. I thought he had genuinely accepted it.

I took out every single photo. Along the carefully taped seams, I tore them apart again. Then I threw them all into the boxes of junk.

The next time I saw Steven was at the first morning meeting after the holiday break.

He sat at the head of the table, with Lyla perched beside him, whispering and laughing intimately in his ear.

Our relationship was a secret at the office. In the past, to avoid suspicion, the most intimate we ever got was a shared, knowing smile across the room.

My gaze fell on his hands, resting on the table. On the middle finger of his left hand, where a simple silver bandthe match to my necklaceshould have been, was now a gold ring set with a green diamond. A brilliant, flashy couple's ring, identical to the one on Lyla's hand.

A gentle nudge from my colleague brought me back.

"Don't feel bad, Josie," she whispered sympathetically. "We all know what kind of tricks she used to get where she is. You're the real top seller in our hearts."

Her words made me look up at the screen in a daze. Today's meeting was the annual review. The number one spot for sales performance was proudly displayed with Lyla's namesomeone who wasn't even in our department.

A single project had knocked my twenty-seven deals down to second place.

Steven's explanation was that the profit from that one project far exceeded the others.

But that was the project I had stayed late on New Year's Eve to close. The contract I had placed on his desk this morning, along with the bra strap.

He had seen it with his own eyes. He knew exactly what I'd had to endure to get that signature.

My pen slipped, tearing a gash across the paper. The sound was jarringly loud in the tense silence of the room.

After the meeting, Steven called me into his office.

We stood in stubborn silence, neither of us willing to speak first. Steven's face grew darker by the second. He tapped his fingers impatiently on the desk, the ring on his finger flashing, making my eyes ache.

I couldn't stand it any longer.

"Is there something you need?"

"Don't you have anything to ask me?"

Our voices overlapped. I paused, then laughed.

Ask him what?

Why he stayed out all night on our anniversary? Why he gave my project to someone else? Or how much longer he intended for us to torture each other?

None of it mattered to me anymore.

My resignation letter, submitted to HR yesterday, had been specially approved by his father, bypassing him completely. My last day was today. My luggage was already packed in the trunk of my car. I could drive straight to the airport after work.

I continued calmly, "If there's nothing else, I'll be going."

Steven stared at me, his expression grim. "Where's my gift?"

It took me a second to realize he was talking about my anniversary gift. We always made each other something by hand. With the way things had been, I assumed it was an unspoken agreement to skip it this year.

"I forgot," I said, offering a weak excuse.

His face hardened, and he yanked at his tie in frustration. "Josie, can't you have a little empathy? Isn't the money I give you enough? Do you really have to make a scene over this?"

"Lyla is all alone in this city. I spent New Year's with her out of basic human decency from the company. And she needs that bonus more than you do."

He paused, then added awkwardly, "If you really want the bonus that badly, I can just give it to you."

With one sentence, he invalidated all my hard work.

After our fight last year, I had thrown myself into my job, working insane hours, pulling six-figure commissions for months on end. I wanted to prove to him that I wasn't after his family's money, that I could make more than enough on my own.

But I still remembered the condescending look on his face back then. "That money," he had said, "didn't it all come from my family in the end?"

Afraid of seeing that same contemptuous expression again, I just shook my head. "No, thank you. Is there anything else?"

He made a frustrated sound, almost a growl. "No."

As I was about to leave, a red string bracelet was tossed from behind the desk, landing by my feet.

"If you don't like it, just throw it away."

Steven's voice was flat, a strange mix of offering and command.

I looked down. The red string was clumsily woven, not particularly attractive, with a single, rather stingy-looking gold bead strung on it.

It really wasn't something to like.

But I didn't want any more complications. I bent down and picked it up. "Got it."

Tossing it in the trash outside would be just as easy.

The moment I opened the door, I saw Lyla pretending to be busy but secretly watching the office. She greeted me with a sweet smile.

"Josie, did you and Steven fight because of me? I'm so sorry. I just mentioned offhandedly that I wanted that project, I never thought he'd actually give it to me."

Her eyes flickered to the bracelet in my hand. Her smile froze for a split second before returning. "I was wondering why Steven was being so cheap, taking back the little gold bead that came with our rings. So it was a peace offering for you."

"When we bought the rings, the salesgirl said this little bead was a part of our love story. I guess it's fitting that he gave it to you."

"Lyla!"

Steven's flustered voice came from inside before I could say a word.

Lyla fluffed her hair, casually revealing her own large gold ring. "Steven's calling me. I've got to go!"

As the door clicked shut, I took the simple silver-band necklace from around my neck and threw it, along with the red string bracelet, into the nearest trash can.

When I got back to my department, the acrid smell of spicy food hit me. An HR representative was awkwardly handing out afternoon snacks, and everyone looked less than thrilled.

"What's going on?"

My team members swarmed me, finally having someone to complain to. "Josie, isn't she just trying to piss us off?"

I followed her gaze to the snacks on the table: extra-spicy snacks and double-sugar milk tea. And then I saw Lyla's message in the group chat.

"Mr. Constantini said the top seller gets to choose the celebration snacks, so I just ordered what I like. Don't be so bland, everyone. Life is better with a little extra spice and sweetness."

No wonder everyone looked miserable. Our department worked the most overtime. A few bites of this, and half the team would be sick.

"Throw it all out," I announced. "Whatever you guys want for an afternoon snack, it's on me."

"Josie for president!"

I smiled as they cheered. I was going to miss my colleagues more than I would ever miss Steven. We had worked together for five or six years. I couldn't tell them I was leaving, so this would have to be my farewell.

As soon as the workday ended, my mother called. She asked if I had told Steven I was leaving. I said no and made her promise that if he asked where I was, she would say she didn't know.

I could hear Arthur's apologetic voice in the background. "Josie, my dear, it's Steven who has wronged you. I apologize on his behalf. Please don't blame him. The boy is not having an easy time either."

Don't blame him? I couldn't.

Steven and I were in the same class for all three years of high school. My mother was our homeroom teacher. Back then, the Constantini family wasn't wealthy yet. Arthur was always busy chasing deals, and Steven was a problem student at the bottom of the class.

I remember after a parent-teacher conference in our first year, Steven had a huge fight with his mother in the hallway.

"To Dad, all you say is 'take care of yourself.' To me, it's just 'study hard.' What else do you do besides laundry and cooking? You're useless! If you can't help, can you just shut up with all your pointless nagging?"

Later that day, on her way home, his mother was in a car accident. She died at the scene.

My mother, afraid he would spiral, took him into our home to live with us.

I could understand Steven's guilt and his inability to accept his mother's death. But this past year... who had it been easy for?

When Arthur and my mother decided to separate because of his cold ridicule, he sent them off to live abroad.

When I tried to break up with him, he pointed his finger in my face and sneered, "What? Your mom took your place gold-digging in my family, so now you get to walk away scot-free? Don't think it's that easy."

Over the past year, any sympathy I had for him had been worn down to nothing.

Tap, tap, tap.

A knocking on my car window startled me. I turned to see Steven, his mouth moving. His voice was muffled through the glass.

"My car's in the shop. We'll ride home together for the next few days."

I rolled down the window, frowning at him.

In the past, we would carefully avoid our colleagues every day, meeting in the parking garage to drive home together. But this past year, let alone driving together, he had barely even come home.

Seeing my lack of response, Steven leaned on the window frame, his eyes meeting mine. "I said, we're going home together for the next few days."

"You have more than one car."

My refusal was instinctive. My flight was at ten, my luggage was in the trunk. I had no time to play games with him.

"Is it out of your way?" Steven's brow furrowed, a questioning look in his eyes. "Or are you not going home? Where else would you be going?"

Defeated, I unlocked the doors. "Let's get something to eat first."

"I'm starving too. How about that hot pot place near the old campus?"

His casual suggestion surprised me, but it worked in my favor. It was close to the airport, making my escape easier.

The drive was silent, except for the rhythmic drumming of the rain. I was plotting my getaway while Steven, in the passenger seat, seemed to start and stop several sentences.

Finally, he said carefully, "About the gold bead on the bracelet, that's not what I meant. It was"

A flurry of message notifications interrupted him, followed by a shrill ringtone.

The moment I saw the caller ID, I flicked on my hazard lights.

Boldly displayed on his screen were the words "Little Josie."

He answered, and Lyla's tearful voice came through the phone. "Steven, sniff, the elevators in the building are broken, and now I'm all alone in the office. I'm so scared."

It was just past seven. Most of our department was still at work. And the elevators at Constantini Industries had weekly maintenance checks.

But of course, Steven believed her ridiculously flimsy lie.

"It's okay, don't worry. Wait for me in the office, I'm coming back to get you right now."

By the time Steven hung up, I had already thoughtfully pulled over and unlocked the doors.

"You should go."

"What do you mean? You're not coming with me?" His eyes flashed with anger.

We were already almost in the suburbs. If I went back to the city with him, I would definitely miss my flight.

"I'm hungry."

"Fine, Josie! You're really something else!"

With a slam of the door, Steven was out of the car and yanking open the driver's side.

"Lyla's in a real panic. I need the car. You can grab a ride home after you eat, or wait for me to come pick you up after I'm done."

The airport was only ten minutes away. The only downside was the rain. I quickly ran through the contents of my suitcase in my headjust clothes, all my important documents were in my purse. I let him take the car.

As my flight was about to take off, my phone buzzed incessantly.

"Are you home?"

"Did you eat? Want me to bring you back a takeout box?"

"I was hungry, so I got my own."

Attached was a picture of two takeout containers of hot pot.

Just as the phone started ringing, the flight attendant announced that all electronic devices needed to be turned off.

I blocked his number, switched to airplane mode, put on my eye mask, and slept soundly all the way to a new country.

...

Meanwhile, Steven stared at the unanswered call, a knot of unease tightening in his chest.