On Our Fifth Anniversary He Wore Intern's Pink Scarf; I Left

My Boyfriend Wore the Scarf an Intern Gave Him, but Threw Away the Coat I Gave Him

On the day that marked five years since Dean Gilbert and I got together, Dean made a point of messaging me.

I've got a surprise for you. Let's grab dinner after work.

Something warmed in my chest, and I was about to reply.

Then I heard the buzz break out around me.

There sat Dean, who had only ever liked black, white, and gray, wearing a pink knitted scarf.

My coworkers murmured among themselves.

"Wow, on Brittany's birthday she wished out loud that Mr. Gilbert would wear a scarf she knitted herself, and he actually wore it."

"It's raining and colder today too, but this is just too romantic."

"Mr. Gilbert usually hates those girly colors most of all. You can tell Brittany really is something special to him."

Under the teasing, Brittany White looked at Dean and quietly went red in the face.

And Dean didn't explain a thing. He just smiled, mild and easy.

I sat calm in my chair, but my fingertips had gone cold.

In five years together, I'd bought Dean countless clothes.

He never once wore any of them, his reason being that he wasn't used to using things other people bought for him.

I'd chalked it up to a personal quirk.

Only now did I understand: he just didn't like the things I gave him.

...

I sat at my desk, my thoughts a tangled mess, when Dean sent another message.

"The intern's been doing good work. I just wanted to boost the girl's morale a little. Don't read too much into it."

I opened my messaging app and saw that Brittany had posted something new.

"So happy! My boss wore the scarf I knitted for him. It was actually a trade, ha. It got so cold at the last team dinner that he gave me the coat he'd just bought, tag still on. I took it home and cut it up to make a little bed for my Curly."

Curly was Brittany's dog.

The coat in her photo was the one I'd gone to the boutique to buy specially for Dean not long ago.

He'd handed off the coat I gave him to Brittany without a second thought, in exchange for a pink scarf from her.

I couldn't help wanting to laugh.

A year ago, when Brittany started at the company, she mentioned once that she wanted a latte, and Dean ordered lattes for the entire company, forgetting that I never drink that kind of thing.

He said, "I'm giving the staff a little perk."

Six months ago, Brittany ran into a mugging on her way home from work, and after that he drove her home every single day, while leaving me to hail my own cab.

He explained, "She just graduated from college. She's still young. I have to look out for my own employees."

A month ago, Brittany said a water pipe had burst at her place, and he grabbed his car keys and left right then, leaving me alone at the hospital with a raging fever.

Afterward all he said was, "I just felt sorry for her, a girl on her own out there. It isn't easy."

Me, his girlfriend, and I still didn't matter to him as much as an intern.

I closed the messaging app and got back to work.

I'd barely opened my work software when the group chat blew up.

A contract that was supposed to be Brittany's had the wrong figure on it, and the company was going to lose a few million.

The mood in the office, so lively a moment ago, changed in an instant.

But Brittany just looked at me, her face pale.

"I didn't do that contract. I wasn't feeling well that day, so I asked Crystal Finch to help me with it."

I looked at her.

"I helped you put the contract together, but you filled in the final figure yourself."

Her tears spilled over, and she choked out the words.

"Crystal, I know you like Mr. Gilbert, and I know you've always been jealous of how good he is to me. But you can't use the company's losses to frame me on purpose."

The words landed, and the eyes turning toward me were full of scorn and blame.

It struck me then that Dean always kept a clear line between us at the office, yet went out of his way to look after Brittany.

I wanted to speak again.

Then I saw how confident Brittany was, how certain, how utterly composed.

She figured that as long as she pushed all the blame onto me, Dean was sure to believe her.

Brittany spoke again, her tone deeply wronged.

"Crystal, if you're afraid of taking the blame, that's fine. You were only helping me anyway, so let's just call it my mistake. I'll take full responsibility."

She retreated to advance, and the coworkers around us bristled on her behalf.

"If you made the contract yourself, then do it right. How can something go wrong and you still won't own up to it?"

"Exactly. Anyone can see she likes Mr. Gilbert. Last time it rained she wanted a ride in his car down in the parking garage, but he only wanted to drive Brittany home. Some people really can't take a hint."

"She didn't get the contract wrong on purpose, did she? Just so Mr. Gilbert would fire Brittany, and she'd get her chance to move in."

The mockery came at me from every direction.

The intern accused me of shredding the scarf she gave her boyfriend, and I got fired

I was about to fire back when Dean walked out.

"Who drew up the contract?"

Before I could get a word out, Brittany spoke first, eyes rimmed red.

"It's my fault. I shouldn't have asked Crystal to do the contract for me. I wasn't feeling well that day, so..."

The moment she trailed off, a coworker jumped in.

"Crystal's the one who drew up the contract. She's trying to pin it on Brittany."

"She's never liked Brittany. Why would she be kind enough to help her with a contract? This is a setup, plain and simple."

Dean frowned at that.

"Enough, all of you. I know what kind of person Crystal is."

A thread of hope rose in me. I thought he was going to believe me.

But the next second, he looked at me and said,

"Since you're the one who made the mistake, your entire bonus for this year is forfeited. And because the company suffered losses, you'll apologize to everyone and give your word this kind of error will never happen again."

"I know you drew up the contract for Brittany. But the figure, the most important part, you shouldn't have left it for her to fill in at the end."

My head snapped up, and all I saw was a man being strictly, coldly professional.

My phone buzzed.

A message from Dean on the app.

"It's fine. I'll make up your bonus privately. But at the company, you still have to give everyone an explanation."

I curled my fingers tight, chilled to the bone.

Dean knew me. He knew being falsely accused was the thing I hated most.

Five years ago, I quit my job precisely because my boss at the time wanted me to take the fall for him.

Back then Dean had done everything to comfort me, and swore to me, hand on his heart,

"Vivi, no matter when, even if the whole world doubts you, I'll always believe you. With me, you'll never be wronged."

After that he started his own company, saying he was afraid I'd be bullied working somewhere else.

For five years he'd nearly worked himself to death making that company big.

And now he was letting me feel what it was like to be knifed by the person I trusted most.

I spoke, my voice edged with mockery.

"So I helped her, and I helped wrong?"

He met my eyes, but his tone stayed offhand.

"I know you were rushing to the hospital to look after your mother that day. But you still should have gone over any contract you handled one last time."

It felt like falling into ice.

He was threatening me.

My mother's surgery was coming soon. The surgeon was someone Dean had found, a specialist who was almost impossible to get.

When I first learned my mother was ill, I'd been sick with worry.

It was Dean who saw how anxious I was. He pulled every string, spent a fortune, and finally got us an appointment with that specialist, one of the best in the field.

Back then he'd smiled and pulled me, crying, into his arms.

"Vivi, I can't stand to see you upset. You know I'd do anything for you, as long as you and your mother are okay."

I was so grateful to him then. I thought I was the luckiest woman alive to have met him.

And now, for Brittany, he was turning the knife on me.

I curled my fingers tight.

"Fine. I'll apologize."

For my mother, I could do anything.

I took my phone to the stairwell to write the apology.

Tears fell one after another onto the screen, and there was nothing in me but grief and a cold, hollow ache.

By the time I got back to the office, Brittany was crying her heart out.

The moment she saw me, she burst out, indignant.

"Crystal, I know you're unhappy about me and Mr. Gilbert. But you didn't have to shred the scarf I gave him while we were out at lunch."

"I knitted it by hand. Two whole months."

I froze where I stood and answered on instinct.

"I've never been to his office."

Dean was frowning at me too. When he saw my red, swollen eyes, a flicker of guilt crossed his face, and he took a step toward me without thinking.

But the instant he moved, Brittany lifted the shredded scarf in both hands and cried out.

"Mr. Gilbert, if someone in this company can't stand having me around, then I'll just resign."

And with that she ran out, sobbing.

"Brittany."

Dean's step faltered, then he turned and chased after her.

By that afternoon, I got the notice from HR.

I was fired. On Dean's orders.

He said that so Brittany wouldn't come back to the company and feel unhappy seeing me, I was to pack my things and leave at once.

It felt like my heart was being stabbed all over again by ten thousand needles.

This was the company I'd helped him build from nothing into what it was now.

And now, because Brittany didn't want to see me, he was tossing me aside like a piece of luggage.

By the time I made it home through the pouring rain,

someone stopped me at the front gate of the complex.

The security guard said,

Ms. Finch, Mr. Gilbert left word. He says there's a guest at the house right now, so it wouldn't be convenient for you to go up. He wants you to find a hotel and stay the night.

The guard's eyes were full of pity. He seemed to hate having to say it.

You and Mr. Gilbert are getting married soon, aren't you. The one he brought back is a woman.

My mind went blank. For a moment I didn't know what to say.

Five years together.

Dean Gilbert had told me countless times that the moment he had money, he'd marry me first thing. He wanted a home with me.

When he earned his first ten million, he bought the place here, and back then he told me,

Crystal, this is a home that belongs to just the two of us. I won't let anyone else set foot in here.

But now...

I came back to myself and spoke, a little worn out.

I understand. Thank you.

As I turned to leave, the guard murmured behind me,

Good thing you're not married. If you were, you'd have to divorce, and who knows how much trouble that'd be. Ah, hard to say whether finding out now is a good thing or a bad thing.

I walked on, numb, and laughed without a sound.

Right. Good thing we're not married.

The ache inside me faded, bit by bit, until I even caught myself feeling grateful.

I found a hotel. I'd just finished checking in

when Dean Gilbert suddenly sent me a message.

Crystal, I said this morning I had a surprise for you. I booked a restaurant, and I got you that piece of jewelry you liked at the auction.

It's pouring outside, and Brittany ran out without an umbrella and got soaked through, so I brought her home to shower and change. I was afraid seeing you would upset her, so I had the guard tell you not to come back for now. Don't get the wrong idea.

I looked at his message and laughed, cold.

He was afraid Brittany would be upset, but not afraid of upsetting me.

On her social feed, Brittany had posted something new.

She was wearing Dean's pajamas in a selfie, pretending to complain,

Somebody's clothes are so big, but honestly they're so comfy.

The comments were all teasing her.

When you become Mrs. Gilbert, you have to hand out wedding candy to all of us.

And Dean had liked it, right there underneath.

I replied to Dean.

I won't get the wrong idea. And when you and Brittany get married, you don't need to tell me either. I won't be chipping in a gift for you two.

Dean called almost at once.

Crystal, I look after her only because she has a bit of the old you in her. Don't get the wrong idea.

She's a lot like you were back then, clean and simple. If it bothers you, I'll take her home right now and come get you.

Dean had said this kind of thing many times, and at first I even believed he was just fond of her for my sake.

But later, he put Brittany ahead of me every single time. He'd even wrong me for her sake.

I didn't want to keep lying to myself anymore.

I hung up on him straight off. Two hours later, Dean knocked on my hotel door.

Crystal, I've come to take you home.

His eyes were sincere and warm, the same as every other time he'd come just to pick me up.

I have trouble sleeping in strange places, I can never rest well in an unfamiliar bed, so I agreed.

At that, the tension eased out of Dean's face.

But when I got home, I found all of my things in ruins.

My clothes had been cut to shreds.

My makeup and skincare, smashed.

The books I loved, torn apart.

The collectible figures I'd treasured for years, every one of them broken.

...

The tears fell the second I saw it.

I turned on Dean.

"What happened here?"

He met my eyes, his voice a little uneasy.

"Because you cut up the scarf Brittany knitted for me. She's been crying about it, and she kept insisting she wanted to quit, so I told her she could break some of your things too, to get it out of her system. Just to make it fair."

I spun around, grabbed the glass off the table, and hurled it to the floor, my voice raw.

"Dean, I'll say it one more time. I didn't cut up that scarf."

"We're done."

I turned and headed for the door.

He grabbed my wrist hard, staring at me like he couldn't believe it.

"You're breaking up with me over something this small?"

"Everything of yours that got wrecked, I'll buy it all back exactly the same. I'll make it up to you."

I didn't want that.

Broken was broken.

Buy new ones and they still wouldn't be the originals.

I looked at him, cold.

"Dean, I never want to see you again for the rest of my life."

His face went hard, and he watched me in silence.

He looked like he wanted to say something.

But the next second, the doorbell rang.

Brittany stood outside, her tone playful.

"Mr. Gilbert, I came to bring back your pajamas, and I was hoping I could take you out to dinner. Would that be okay?"

He agreed almost before she'd finished, like he couldn't wait.

"Of course."

"Whatever you want to eat, I'm in."

With that, he grabbed his car keys and was already heading out.

Before he left, he turned to me.

"Crystal, wait at home for me. I keep my promises, I'll do everything I said. But stop throwing around this breakup thing whenever you feel like it."

"You know I hate being threatened. That trick doesn't work on me."

The door shut, and the apartment went quiet again.

I took one last look at my things, then left for the hospital.

By the time Dean came home, the apartment was pitch dark.

The floor was still a wreck.

He walked through every room and found no sign of Crystal anywhere.

He yanked his tie loose, irritated, then called me.

Only the call wouldn't go through.

He tried sending a message.

"Where did you go?"

The next second, a bright red exclamation mark popped up.

"This user has friend verification enabled. You are not yet on her contact list."