Leaving the Hayashi Tech building while the sun was still high felt weird, like she was breaking a rule. For years, her life had followed Kenzo's schedule, constant phone notifications, and late nights working by screen light. Now, at 4 p.m., with her work for the day complete and a a huge payment already in her bank account, she was suddenly free.
The word felt foreign and empty.
Instead of heading straight home to the silence of her apartment, she found herself drawn to a quiet, upscale wine bar tucked away on a side street. It was the kind of place she'd always walked past, thinking, 'One day, when I have time.' Well, now she had time, plenty of it.
She slid into a private leather booth, the material cool against her skin. The soft music and dim lights were a huge change from the sterile, humming energy of the office.
This is it, she thought, pulling out her phone. This is the simple life. A few hours of hard work, a huge paycheck, and the rest of the day to herself. She opened her banking app, the numbers on the screen still not feeling entirely real.
She did the math for the tenth time, she realized that even after paying off her mother's crushing medical bills, after finally clearing the secret debt from Sasha's failed boutique that had hung over her for two years… she would still have a small fortune left. Enough to not work for a year or to start her own company. Enough to be truly, completely independent.
It was everything she thought she wanted. So why did the victory feel so empty?
A waiter appeared. "What can I get for you this evening?"
"A glass of the Sonoma Coast Pinot Noir, please," she said, her voice sounding too loud in the hushed atmosphere.
As she waited, her mind returned to the hectic pace of her old life: the early morning calls, rushing for his dry cleaning, and the secret pride of knowing what he needed before he asked. It had been exhausting, but it gave her a purpose. Now, her purpose was a project file, and her boss was a client who looked at her with the eyes of a ghost.
Her wine arrived, a deep ruby in the glass. She took a slow sip, but the complex taste didn't help clear up the complicated knot of feelings in her chest.
"Excuse me?"
She looked up at a handsome, ordinary-looking man standing by her table. He had a confident smile. "I couldn't help but notice you're here alone. Mind if I join you?"
For a split second, she thought about agreeing. It would be a distraction, a normal conversation, not about work. A chance to be just a woman in a bar, not Ms. Lee, the consultant.
But the thought felt like a betrayal. Not to Kenzo, but to herself. It would be an act.
She offered a polite, distant smile. "That's kind, but I'm actually waiting for someone."
His smile stayed put. "Too bad for him," he said, nodding slightly before leaving.
The moment he was gone, the loneliness she'd been fighting hit her hard. What am I even doing here? she thought. She looked around; couples leaned close, sharing secrets and laughter. A group of friends toasted to something. She felt completely alone among all the connected people.
She drank the rest of her wine too quickly, the warmth spreading through her chest but failing to reach the cold, numb place inside. She signaled for the check, paid, and escaped into the cool evening air.
The city looked beautiful as the sky turned soft blue and the streetlights cast a warm, golden color on the pavement. People walked by, happy together. Sharon walked alone, hands in her pockets, realizing her new freedom was starting to feel a lot like loneliness.
The quiet and the lack of demands felt like something important was missing. A needed piece that was supposed to be there was gone.
She had to ask the obvious question: Was the missing thing Kenzo?
"No," she firmly told herself, walking faster. "It's not him. I miss the routine and the excitement. "Sasha's right. I'm just addicted to the chaos, and he causes it. This feeling is simply like getting over an addiction."
She stopped at a convenience store, buying a bottle of wine and some snacks, thinking she'd share them with Sasha. But when she knocked on her friend's door, no one answered. This was strange, as Sasha always texted before going out. Sharon stood there for a moment, the bag feeling heavy in her hand, before turning and letting herself into her own, silent apartment.
She felt tired but wide awake, so she decided a shower might wash away the lingering unease. She walked into her bedroom, stripping off her work clothes, her blazer, silk blouse, and tailored trousers. She stood in front of the full-length mirror, completely naked.
And she laughed. A short, bitter sound. "You look so stupid," she told her reflection. "You have an amazing body, a bank account that's finally in the black, and a brain that can build empires.Yet you're standing here feeling sorry for yourself.
She turned, appreciating her figure: the curves of her hips, her slim waist, and her strong shoulders that had carried so much weight.
Then, her mind suddenly tricked her. She didn't see herself; she saw his hands pulling her close. She felt his body behind her and his breath on her neck. A strong shiver of both desire and disgust ran through her.
"No!" She quickly shut her eyes. "Why him? Why is this happening now? I'm losing my mind."
She rushed into the bathroom and turned the shower on full blast, as hot as she could stand it. But as the water poured over her, plastering her hair to her skin, the memory wouldn't stop: the rain, how desperate he looked while soaked. The feel of his lips, cold from the rain but full of hunger. Her fingers unconsciously rose to touch her own lips.
"Stop it!" she screamed inside, scrubbing her skin hard until it was red. "He was with Nadia. He cheated on you. This feeling is just biology and loneliness."
She finished her shower, wrapped herself in a soft towel, and quickly left the steamy room. Needing noise, anything to fill the silence in her head, she collapsed onto the sofa and turned on the TV. A romantic comedy was playing. She usually avoided them, but now she was too exhausted to change the channel.
She watched the movie's predictable love story: the cute meeting, the fake problems, and the huge declaration of love at the end. Everything on screen was so simple and easy. A tear, entirely separate from the movie's plot, traced a path down her temple and into her hairline. It wasn't for the characters. It was for the simple life she knew she would never get.
The wine and the emotional exhaustion finally pulled her under. The remote slipped from her hand onto the rug. On the screen, the fictional couple kissed under a perfect sunset, their future assured. On the sofa, Sharon fell into a fitful sleep, alone in the glowing, silent dark, the ghost of a rain-soaked kiss her only companion.