Adrian stared at the folder.

Then at me.

“What is this?”

“My handover documentation.”

“I can see that.”

His voice was colder than usual.

“Why is it this detailed?”

Mia looked between us and quietly stepped backward.

I answered calmly.

“Because after Friday, I won’t be here.”

Adrian’s jaw tightened.

“Your resignation hasn’t been approved.”

I blinked.

“Yesterday you told me to follow procedure.”

“I changed my mind.”

For six years, Adrian Gu had made billion-dollar decisions without hesitation.

Apparently, my resignation required reconsideration.

I almost laughed.

“Mr. Gu, according to my contract, I’ve given the required notice.”

“I’ll double your salary.”

“No.”

“Triple.”

“No.”

His eyes narrowed.

“Then what do you want?”

That question almost hurt.

Four years ago, I might have answered:

You.

Instead, I closed another folder.

“Nothing.”

For the first time, Adrian seemed to have no response.

I spent the rest of the week teaching Mia everything.

Adrian’s coffee before nine.

His stomach medication after meals.

Never schedule Nathan before ten.

Keep Wednesdays free after six unless absolutely necessary.

When Adrian was angry, don’t explain immediately.

Give him ten minutes.

Mia scribbled frantically.

Then she suddenly looked up.

“Miss Jiang.”

“Hm?”

“How do you remember all this?”

I stopped.

Because I loved him.

But I smiled.

“Practice.”

Friday arrived.

My final day.

At five thirty, I cleaned my desk.

Six years disappeared into one cardboard box.

A mug.

Two notebooks.

A small cactus Nathan had given me.

And a fountain pen Adrian gave every senior employee on their fifth anniversary.

Nothing personal.

Nothing worth remembering.

I was about to leave when Adrian’s door opened.

“Jiang Claire.”

I turned.

“Come inside.”

His office looked exactly as it always did.

Adrian stood by the window.

“Sit.”

“I’d rather stand.”

His expression darkened.

Then he asked:

“When is the wedding?”

My heart jumped.

“What?”

“You said you’re getting married.”

“Oh.”

I had almost forgotten my excuse.

“The date hasn’t been finalized.”

“What’s his name?”

I hesitated.

That was my mistake.

Adrian noticed immediately.

“After six years, I’ve never heard you mention a boyfriend.”

“We’re private.”

“Where did you meet?”

“Mr. Gu.”

I smiled.

“My personal life is no longer part of my employment.”

His face went completely still.

Then he nodded.

“Fine.”

He opened a drawer and removed an envelope.

“Your final bonus.”

“I’ve already received everything from HR.”

“This is separate.”

I didn’t touch it.

“What for?”

His fingers tightened around the envelope.

“For six years.”

“Then thank you.”

I took it.

His hand didn’t release it.

For one strange second, we both held the envelope.

Then Adrian asked quietly:

“Do you have to go?”

My chest tightened.

There it was.

The sentence I had wanted for years.

But it came one day before he was supposed to become another woman’s fiancé.

So I gently pulled the envelope free.

“Yes.”

I left.

The next evening was Adrian and Isabella’s engagement banquet.

I wasn’t invited.

That was expected.

At seven fifteen, I was eating noodles at home when Nathan called.

“Claire, where are you?”

“Home.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s generally where people go after resigning.”

He was silent.

Then:

“You’re not coming?”

“To what?”

“Adrian’s engagement.”

I laughed.

“Why would his former secretary attend?”

Another silence.

Then Nathan said:

“Claire.”

“Yes?”

“There is no engagement.”

My chopsticks stopped.

“What?”

“Who told you Adrian was getting engaged?”

“You did.”

“When?”

“At dinner.”

Nathan became quiet.

Then suddenly cursed.

“Oh.”

My heart began beating faster.

“What?”

“That was a joke.”

I stood up.

“A joke?”

“Isabella’s family has been pushing for it for months. Adrian keeps refusing.”

I couldn’t speak.

Nathan continued hurriedly:

“I announced it because I thought embarrassing him in front of everyone might finally make him react.”

“And he didn’t deny it.”

“He nearly killed me afterward.”

I remembered Adrian raising his glass.

His eyes passing over me.

“Then why is there a banquet tonight?”

“It’s Isabella’s birthday.”

I closed my eyes.

Four years of loving him.

Six years beside him.

And I had resigned over Nathan Chen’s stupid joke.

I should have felt relieved.

Instead, I felt strangely calm.

Because another truth remained.

Even without Isabella…

Adrian had never chosen me.

“Nathan.”

“Yes?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

I ended the call.

Ten minutes later, someone began pounding on my door.

I opened it.

Adrian stood there.

Still wearing his formal suit.

No coat.

No driver.

His expression was terrifying.

“Your boyfriend doesn’t exist.”

Not hello.

Not good evening.

Straight to interrogation.

I leaned against the door.

“Correct.”

His eyes darkened.

“You lied to me.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because saying ‘I’ve secretly loved my boss for four years and need to leave before watching him marry another woman’ sounded unprofessional.”

Silence.

Complete silence.

I hadn’t planned to confess.

But now that the words were out…

I felt free.

Adrian stared at me.

“You love me?”

“Loved.”

His expression changed.

“Past tense?”

“I’m working on it.”

He stepped closer.

“You resigned because you thought I was marrying Isabella?”

“Partly.”

“What’s the other part?”

I looked at him.

“Because I finally realized I had built my entire life around you.”

His anger disappeared.

“I knew your schedule better than my own.”

“I remembered your medication but forgot my mother’s birthday dinner twice because you needed me.”

“I answered your calls at midnight.”

“I knew when you were tired, hungry, angry, sick.”

I swallowed.

“But you didn’t even know whether I actually had a boyfriend.”

Adrian said nothing.

That silence was answer enough.

“So yes.”

I smiled.

“Even if Isabella doesn’t exist, I still need to leave.”

He looked almost lost.

That affected me more than anger would have.

Finally, he asked:

“What if I don’t want you to?”

“Then you’ll learn something new.”

“What?”

“Wanting isn’t the same as having.”

I closed the door.

Three months passed.

I found another job.

Smaller company.

Less money.

Normal hours.

For the first time in six years, my weekends belonged to me.

Then one Saturday, I entered a bookstore and found Adrian standing in the fiction section.

Adrian Gu.

The man who claimed novels were inefficient uses of time.

Holding a romance novel upside down.

I stared.

He looked at the book.

Then turned it around.

“I was waiting.”

“For me?”

“Yes.”

“That’s unsettling.”

“I asked Nathan where you usually shop.”

“That’s more unsettling.”

He almost smiled.

Then he handed me a coffee.

My usual order.

I looked at it.

“You remembered?”

His expression became serious.

“I’m learning.”

I didn’t take the coffee immediately.

“Learning what?”

“You.”

That answer was dangerous.

“Adrian…”

“I didn’t come to ask you back to work.”

“Good.”

“I came to ask you to dinner.”

I stared at him.

“As what?”

He answered immediately.

“A man asking a woman he likes.”

Not boss.

Not secretary.

Not Mr. Gu and Miss Jiang.

I finally took the coffee.

“One dinner.”

His shoulders visibly relaxed.

“One.”

“And I choose the restaurant.”

“Fine.”

“You don’t take calls.”

“Fine.”

“And if you order for me because you think you know what I like, I’m leaving.”

He paused.

“That seems unnecessarily specific.”

I laughed.

And that was how we began.

Not with a confession in his office.

Not with six years of devotion suddenly being rewarded.

Slowly.

Awkwardly.

As two people who had to learn each other outside a hierarchy.

A year later, Adrian proposed.

This time, there were no executives.

No Shen heiress.

No grand banquet.

Just us.

He held out the ring and asked:

“Claire Jiang, will you marry me?”

I looked at him.

“Is this another rumor Nathan started?”

Adrian’s face darkened.

“That man is banned from our wedding.”

I laughed until I cried.

Then I said yes.

Years later, Adrian once asked what would have happened if Nathan had never joked about his engagement.

I thought about it carefully.

“I probably would’ve stayed.”

He seemed pleased.

I shook my head.

“That’s not a good thing.”

His smile disappeared.

“Why?”

“Because I would’ve continued being useful to you instead of becoming important to myself.”

He understood.

Eventually.

I had spent six years believing that leaving Adrian Gu would be the hardest thing I could ever do.

It wasn’t.

The hardest thing was admitting that love wasn’t enough reason to remain invisible.

So I resigned.

I walked away.

And only when Adrian discovered that his perfect secretary could actually leave…

did he finally look beyond the desk where she’d always been standing.

But by then, something had changed.

I was no longer waiting for him to choose me.

For the first time in six years…

the choice was mine.