My Silly Little Boyfriend

That afternoon, the manager called me into her office.

She was a woman in her forties or fifties, strict with everyone, but she had taken me under her wing at this company.

The air conditioning in her office was cranked up high.

I shut the glass door behind me. When our eyes met, I could see a hint of helplessness behind the thin lenses of her glasses.

"Pack your things this afternoon, then go to finance to get your last paycheck," she said.

I had expected to be fired, but I didn't think it would come so suddenly.

I opened my mouth to ask her why, but the words got stuck.

Why? What had I done wrong? I had worked so hard. Was it really because of those unfounded rumors that all my efforts in the workplace were erased?

I had already tried explaining, but nothing had changed.

This job meant a lot to me—it was hard to come by. That was why my hands trembled as I fought the bitterness rising within me.

Finally, I gathered my courage, biting my lip before meeting her gaze. "Can you tell me why?"

She simply tapped the pen on her desk, speaking each word slowly, carefully.

"You're not capable enough. That's all."

Not capable enough?

How was I not capable enough when I had been promoted to team leader after only six months?

Almost every one of my proposals was approved, and I had the largest bonus at the end of the year, so how was I not capable enough?

I took a deep breath.

If that was her reasoning, there was nothing more to be said. But I knew that wasn't the real reason.

When I left her office, perhaps in my frustration, I yanked the door open too hard. The ornament hanging on the door slammed into the glass and swayed.

She sighed behind me.

"Jennifer, your father must be quite powerful, huh?"

I froze.

I opened my mouth, but I couldn't find any words to say.

So it was happening again.

My stepmother was trying to ruin me.

And my father was fully supporting her.

-

On my way home, I leaned against the bus window, holding my bag and staring out, lost in thought.

It looked like it was going to rain. Dark clouds filled the sky, and the wind whistled through the open window.

People rushed by as the bus pulled up at the next stop.

A father and his daughter boarded together.

"Daddy, when can I have that cake?" the little girl asked, her head tilted upward, looking up at the man beside her.

The man smiled down at her and gently tapped her nose.

"We'll sneak a little, but don't let your mom catch us, you little glutton."

I watched them, and the ache in my heart grew.

After my stepmother came into our lives, she forbade anyone from celebrating my birthday.

She wouldn't let my father buy me a cake or do anything special for me.

So, since then, I hadn't had a single birthday celebration.

-

Dragging myself home, exhausted, I began to plan for what the future might look like.

I no longer had a job, and the financial situation at home was suddenly becoming tight.

I could hardly support myself, let alone take care of a grown man.

So when I opened the door and found the place in complete disarray, I realized something.

Such is life. After kicking you down, it comes back and smacks you again.

I didn't know what had happened to the place. Broken glass, overturned flowerpots with dirt scattered everywhere, or flour all over the floor—it all looked like chaos.

I scanned the room, but I couldn't find the person I was looking for.

Ben. Gone.

A blankness hit my mind for a moment, and then panic started to rise.

I rushed from room to room, searching every corner. A tall man like Ben couldn't possibly hide in such a small apartment, right?

I even opened the kitchen cabinets, looking everywhere.

Finally, my eyes fell on the sketchbook lying on the floor.

There, drawn crookedly on the page, was a picture of a cake.