Julian let out a laugh, shaking his head at himself as he awkwardly attempted a stretching routine. He must have looked ridiculous—arms flailing, legs wobbling—but he wasn’t about to dive headfirst into running without preparation. If he was going to do this, he had to do it right.
With a deep breath, he focused on loosening up his muscles, rolling his shoulders and stretching his legs properly this time. He wasn’t used to warming up before physical activity, but after reading about unprepared runners ending up with injuries, he figured he should at least try to be smart about it. He wasn’t just running for fun—there was actual money on the line, and he wasn’t about to let something as dumb as a pulled muscle get in his way.
His plan for the day was simple: jog, not sprint. Keep a steady pace instead of chasing the cash like a desperate man. He had mapped out a route in his head—the nearby high school had an oval track, and it seemed like the perfect place to build his stamina without worrying about getting lost or collapsing in some random alley.
But as he rummaged through his drawers for something to wear, his enthusiasm deflated.
"Seriously?" he muttered, staring at the sad excuse for workout gear in front of him.
No running shoes. No sportswear. Just old sneakers with worn-out soles and a pile of casual clothes that had never seen the inside of a gym.
Maybe this was why Camille never liked him much.
The thought came unbidden, unwelcome. He shook it off. This wasn’t about her anymore. He was doing this for himself now.
Throwing on the most comfortable outfit he could find, he stepped outside and began his training. The first few days were brutal. His legs ached, his lungs burned, and his body screamed at him to stop. But he kept going, pushing himself a little further each day. He incorporated rest periods and gradually increased his running time, listening to his body but refusing to quit. By the end of the week, his endurance had noticeably improved. The pain was still there, but so was the progress.
Then, one afternoon, his phone rang.
Julian wiped the sweat from his forehead and checked the screen. Unknown number.
Curious, he answered. "Hello?"
A familiar voice responded, light but with a hint of authority. "Julian?"
His eyebrows lifted slightly. "Yeah. Who’s this?"
"It’s Karina. Your supervisor."
He straightened slightly. Karina was beautiful—that much was undeniable. Smart, confident, and four years older than him, she had a presence that made people listen when she spoke. But right now, her tone carried something else—concern.
"Oh… hey," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. He hadn’t expected a call from work. Not after what he did.
"I just got your resignation email."
A pause.
"Did Camille really break up with you?"
Julian tensed, his fingers tightening around his phone. He should’ve known the rumor mill at work would spread fast.
"Yeah," he answered, keeping his voice even.
"So that’s why you resigned?" she asked, her tone shifting slightly, as if trying to understand.
He exhaled. "She’s still working there, right? I just don’t want to see her."
There was silence on the other end for a moment. Then, Karina sighed.
"You’re really running away, huh?"
Julian let out a dry chuckle. "Funny. That’s literally what I’ve been doing all week."
"Julian—"
"It’s fine, Karina. Really."
She didn’t sound convinced, but she didn’t push further. "So what now? What are you planning to do?"
That was the question, wasn’t it? He glanced down at the smartwatch strapped to his wrist. The one that had already earned him far more than his old job ever could.
A small smirk tugged at his lips.
"Let’s just say… I’ve got something new going on."
An idea struck him then. He tapped his phone and spoke casually, "Oh, Karina, by the way—can I have your CASH number?"
There was a brief silence on the other end, then Karina replied, "Hah? Why?"
"Just send it. You'll see."
Still skeptical, she sent her details. The moment Julian received them, he quickly transferred an amount and hit send. A second later, a notification pinged on Karina’s end.
"Wait—Julian, what the hell? Why are you sending me money?" she asked, clearly taken aback.
He chuckled. "Consider it my treat. Buy something nice for everyone in the office. Coffee, snacks, whatever. My way of saying thanks."
"Are you serious? This is way too much!" Karina’s disbelief was obvious.
Julian only shrugged. "It’s fine. You guys helped me out a lot before. Let me do this."
There was another pause before Karina sighed, her tone softening. "You’re acting really different, you know that?"
"Maybe. I’ll explain some other time. Actually…" he hesitated for a moment before deciding, "I’ll ask for your free time later. Maybe we can talk in person?"
"You’re full of surprises today," Karina mused. "Alright. I’ll hold you to that."
As the call ended, Julian let his phone drop to his lap, exhaling slowly. His gaze wandered to the distant city lights, but his mind was somewhere else—somewhere from the past.
Memories of Camille surfaced uninvited. The way she’d send him teasing glances from her desk, how they’d sneak off for lunch breaks together, the quiet moments after work when she’d rest her head on his shoulder. At first, it was just the two of them stealing time in between deadlines. Then, the dates came—late-night drives, sharing meals, laughter that felt easy. He remembered the way she’d absentmindedly play with his fingers, as if she never wanted to let go.
And yet… she did.
He sighed, rubbing his face with one hand. Why did she really leave me?
No matter how many times he went over it, he still didn’t have a real answer.