Page 10 of The Only Road Back

BETH

The instant I step into the office, whispers spark like static. Coworkers glance my way before quickly dropping their eyes. Some were at the wedding. The rest have heard the rumors.

Head high, I walk to my desk, refusing to let the dense air close in on me.

Lori appears, sharp elbows on my cubicle wall. “You okay?”

I manage a brittle smile. “Not really.”

She scowls at the onlookers. “God, people are such vultures.”

I drop my bag onto the floor and take a seat. “I knew this would happen.”

Lori leans closer, lowering her voice to a harsh whisper. “Clark’s been ‘confiding’ in everyone all morning. Telling them you were cold. That you neglected him, so he turned to Stephanie. For comfort, supposedly.”

My stomach clenches. “Of course.”

She shrugs. “He’s full of shit. Most people know it. The rest are happy to lap up the drama.”

I look at my monitor, pretending to work. “Let them talk. I don’t care.”

Lori arches an eyebrow. “You sure?”

I hesitate, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “I want not to care. That’s something, right?”

She nods. “It’s a start.”

“I suppose it is.”

“Hey, listen,” she says, “I have to go. Talk later?”

“Sounds good.”

After she strolls away, I think about it all: the betrayal, the gossip, my family’s anger. It squeezes tighter with every breath.

And under it all, the memory of leaving Jack behind.

I try not to reimagine the look on his face as I drove away. Try not to remember how safe he made me feel or how closely he saw me—really saw me.

But the thoughts pour in, relentless.

I rub my temples. This is what being strong looks like, I tell myself. Coming back and facing my problems, handling my own mess.

Isn’t it?

By lunchtime, I reach my breaking point.

I snatch up my purse and bolt for the stairs. I need air. Lori catches up, moving in step beside me.

“Beth…”

I grip my bag, shaking my head. “I can’t do this, Lori. I can’t pretend everything’s normal.”

She studies me for a long beat. “Then stop.”

I blink. “Stop what?”

She shrugs, eyes fierce. “Stop pretending. Leave.”

I let out a bitter huff. “And go where?”

She gives me a crooked smile. “You and I both know exactly where.”

My heart stumbles in my chest. “Lori—”

She lifts a hand. “I’m not saying run away. I’m saying figure out what you want. Not your mom, not the office. You.”

Her words settle in. As I drive home that night, her question rattles around inside me: What do I want?

The answer arrives by the time I park.

No more waiting. No more letting fear keep me in a life that doesn’t fit.

***

The next morning, I get dressed with purpose: sleek navy slacks and a crisp white blouse, the outfit I reserve for client pitches. Every button and fold says one thing—I am not afraid.

I stand outside the accounting firm’s glass doors, heart thumping but spine straight. Sunlight bounces off the steel and glass. I don’t pause. Not this time.

Inside, the reception is cold and bright, the air laced with coffee and toner. Melissa, the receptionist and Clark’s biggest supporter, barely spares me a glance.

I walk straight past. My heels echo across the tile as I head down the hall.

The gossip has been vicious. My parents blame me for walking away, spinning it like I broke some unspoken rule of propriety. My mother leaves daily voicemails about “fixing this” before my reputation is ruined.

And Clark? Clark plays the victim. Every muttered comment in the hall:

Beth was too cold.

She pushed Clark away.

She drove him to cheat.

All lies. I’m done pretending.

I don’t knock. I push his office door open and walk in like I own the place.

Clark looks up, startled. His hair is perfectly tousled, his collar unbuttoned just so. He tries a lazy, confident smile, like he’s already forgiven me.

“Beth.” He leans back, hands behind his head. “I figured you’d come around.”

I laugh. The audacity.

“You think I’m here to beg?”

His smirk deepens. “I think you’re here to talk. To see sense.”

I shake my head. “You really believe that, don’t you?”

He shrugs. “We had something good. No sense throwing it away—”

“Oh, you mean over you sleeping with my cousin on our wedding day?” My words crack through the air like a whip.

He falters, mouth opening and closing. “Beth—”

“No. You don’t get to spin this. You cheated. You lied. Now you’re painting me as the villain because I wouldn’t let you walk all over me.”

I stand inches from his desk, holding his gaze. “How long, Clark? How long with Stephanie?”

He blanches, voice barely audible. “Since about a month after we started dating.”

My breath leaves me, but I force myself not to look away. Voices outside the office hush. I hope they’re all listening.

He leans away from me, jaw tight. “You’re making a scene.”

“Good. Maybe it’s time people see who you really are.”

He stands, suddenly desperate. “This doesn’t have to end like this. We can work it out.”

I release a cold laugh. “You still think you get a vote. I don’t want this job, this town, or what you offer. I’m done.”

I pull a folded envelope from my purse and set it on his desk—my resignation letter.

He stares at it as if it might explode. “You’re serious?”

“As a heart attack.” I turn to go.

“Beth, wait—”

But I don’t.

As soon as I step outside his office, the heaviness lifts.

I’m free.

***

I drive through the city in wide, looping arcs until the anger fades and anticipation seeps in. I have no job, no plan, nothing tying me here.

Oddly, I’m not afraid.

I pull into a little park and sit beneath the shade of a sycamore. The sun is warm, the sky impossibly blue.

My phone buzzes.

Jack.

I stare at his name, wondering if I’m ready to explain—to him or even to myself. But I answer.

“Hey,” I say, my voice lighter than I expect.

“Hey.” His voice is steady, familiar. “How’s your day?”

I almost laugh. If only he knew.

“Eventful,” I say.

“Oh?” A smile in his tone. “Want to talk about it?”

I close my eyes, letting him in for one slow heartbeat. I do want to tell him. I want him to say I did the right thing. But not yet. Not over the phone, and not before I know what comes next.

“Not today,” I say quietly.

“Okay,” he says. He never pushes, just offers his quiet presence on the line.

And somehow, that’s enough.