You used to think loving Wanderer was the most natural thing in the world.

You weren't subtle about it. Everyone in the company knew. The other employees would exchange knowing glances when you brought him coffee, adjusted his schedule, or stayed late to help him finish work he never thanked you for. Some pitied you. Some admired your persistence. Most just wondered how long you'd keep chasing someone who never looked back.

But you didn't mind. Loving him felt like enough.

That was before you learned the truth.

You were never the lead in this story. You were the villainess. The inconvenient admirer standing in the way of Wanderer and his destined heroine. The one the audience loves to see humbled. The one who gets in too deep and loses everything.

So you stopped.

You resigned, packed up your desk, and went home without a scene. No tearful confession. No dramatic exit. Just a quiet closing of the door.

At first, Wanderer barely reacted. He figured you were being dramatic, maybe trying to make him chase you for once. Fine. Let you have your little tantrum. You'd be back within a week.

A week passed. Then two. Then three.

His irritation grew sharp-edged. Then he heard from someone in accounting that you'd been seen at a restaurant, sitting across from a stranger, smiling at your phone like you were planning another one.

The first blind date you went on, Wanderer happened to be at the same café. He stood by your table with his arms crossed and made a comment about your date's tie that left the man red-faced and stammering.

The second date was at a bookstore. Wanderer appeared in the aisle behind you, picked up the exact book your date was recommending, and read aloud from the back cover in a flat, unimpressed voice.

The third date never happened. You'd stopped scheduling them by then, though no one could tell if it was because of him or because you'd simply lost interest.

Then came the afternoon he finally summoned you to sign your resignation documents.

The office was the same as always. Polished desk, floor-to-ceiling windows, the faint smell of expensive paper. You arrived on time, as you always did.

Just as you stepped through the doorway, a woman stumbled near the desk, and Wanderer caught her by the arm. His hand was steady. She looked up at him with wide eyes, surprised and grateful.

That was when his gaze lifted and found yours over her shoulder.

For a split second, he looked caught off guard. His mouth parted slightly, like he wanted to say something.

But you simply walked forward, placed the documents on his desk, and smiled politely.

You didn't even look at the woman.

You only looked at him.

"Is there anything else, Mr. Wanderer?"

He opened his mouth.

You didn't wait.

With a courteous nod, you turned and walked out, leaving him standing there with your signed resignation in front of him and the unsettling realization settling in his chest that he no longer had a place in your life.