The Bride Isn’t Me, So I’m Calling Off the Wedding Chapter 07
On the other side, I landed in City A and joined a new company.
When I first arrived, I nearly got cut because I lacked the necessary experience.
I only learned later that I had kept my job because President Hayes, Peter Hayes, had fought to
protect me.
Getting established at the company was far harder than I had imagined.
Because I was inexperienced, I was constantly denied the chance to show what I could do. After being rejected again, I secretly hid in the stairwell and cried.
Once I had cried myself out, I realized that Peter Hayes had been standing behind me, watching for quite some time.
Embarrassed, I awkwardly wiped away my tears.
President Hayes frowned slightly and asked me in his refined London accent,
“Why are you crying?”
Thinking about everything I had been through, I could not hold it in anymore. My sobs came harder
as I asked,
“Why hire me if you were never going to give me a chance?”
Peter Hayes did not comfort me like some male lead in a novel, He simply handed me a tissue and
said coolly,
“If you want something, fight for it yourself.”
“Only the strong survive here. Crying won’t solve a thing.”
With that, he walked away without looking back.
Determined to make him see me in a new light, I started working endless overtime and writing proposal after proposal.
At last, I made it through the group competition.
Everyone around me applauded.
I looked toward the audience and caught sight of Peter Hayes.
From then on, I kept running into Peter Hayes late at night whenever I worked overtime.
He was not much of a talker, but he was willing to withstand pressure from upper management and
put important projects in my hands.
When I hit a setback, he never offered empty words of comfort. Instead, he pointed out the flaws in
my proposals and showed me a way through.
I had been trapped in the shadow of my previous relationship for a long time. He was the one who stayed quietly by my side, never rushing me, patiently waiting for me to find my own way out.
Through countless days of working together, my respect for him slowly grew into something more.
I could not say exactly when it began, but after work we started going downstairs together and occasionally sharing a simple dinner. Peter Hayes always remembered my preferences and thoughtfully picked the cilantro out of my bowl.
Sometimes he brought me coffee in the morning. Around the office, everyone said that the company’s untouchable Mr. Hayes was about to be won over by me.
I always laughed it off, while wave after wave churned through my heart.
Finally, after one company dinner, Peter Hayes walked me home.
Under the dim streetlights, he stood beside me and gently took my hand.
There were no grand bouquets or earth–shattering declarations.
On an ordinary night, he asked in a calm but solemn voice whether I was willing to walk beside him
from then on.
I said yes.
*****
Before I knew it, I had been working there for two years.
During that time, Jason Miller called me countless times, and I hung up on him every single time.
He had people track me down, and gift packages arrived one after another. I refused every one and
sent them all back.
1
He even flew to City A to find me, swallowing his pride as he begged me, over and over, to forgive him.
pulled out the necklace he had bought back then, along with the keychain I had thrown away. His
eyes were red from crying as he looked at me and said,
“Natalie, look. I bought the necklace you loved most, and I didn’t lose this keychain either. I’ve kept
it safe all this time.”
“I know it was all my fault. I shouldn’t have given our wedding to Claire Shaw. I’m sorry.”
“But Claire and I have broken up now. There’s no one else in my life, and no one will ever stand between us again. Can we start over?”
The way he bowed his head and begged through his tears was nothing like the aloof, superior man he had been when I asked to end things.
Perhaps he had never imagined that one day, our positions would be completely reversed.
I ignored him, slowly pulling my hand free from his, then called security and had them escort him
away.
Natalie’s mother asked around repeatedly to find out where I was and called me many times, crying as she said she was sorry. Every time, I hung up as soon as I heard her, lowered my head, and went back to my work.
As soon as Claire Shaw learned the truth, she apologized to me. She was sobbing uncontrollably on the phone as she said,
“Natalie, I’m sorry. I really didn’t know. I’m so sorry…‘
“I truly didn’t do it on purpose. I never imagined they would do something like that.”
I knew she was innocent too, but I could not bring myself to forgive them wholeheartedly.
After a long silence, I said only one thing to her,
“It’s all in the past. Look ahead.”
As I was thinking over those memories, my assistant knocked on the door, placed an itinerary in front of me, and said excitedly,
“Supervisor, our news travel program has gotten a great response. The director wants us to partner
with Dream Island to develop a new product.”
“These are the plane tickets to the capital. We’re leaving tomorrow.”
When I heard the words “Dream Island,” my eyes gave an involuntary twitch, but I quickly regained
my composure.
I took the plane tickets and gave a slight nod.
Two years had passed since I left the capital with nothing and carved out a place for myself in the
northern frontier.
I had climbed from a low–level employee to a manager, and I couldn’t help wondering: if I had stayed in that family and continued wasting away, I never would have reached this position.
What City A had given me was far more than the title of manager; it had transformed me from the inside out and given me a fresh start.
When I landed at the capital’s airport, I strode into the venue in sky–high heels and the polished power–suit look of a career woman. Countless spotlights shone on my face, and I answered the reporters‘ questions with ease.
Just as I was about to leave, I suddenly spotted a familiar figure standing behind the head of Dream
Island.
It was Jason Miller.
He looked even thinner and frailer than the last time I’d seen him. His face was covered in stubble, and he looked noticeably more haggard. His eyes were frighteningly red as he stared at me without
moving.
I looked away and was just about to get into the car when his hand caught mine.
I frowned slightly, slowly pried my hand from his tight grip, and asked,
“Sir, is there something I can do for you?”
