“The payback period is thirteen months. The projected profit over five years is twelve million dollars.”
The room listened attentively. Mr. Peterson looked at her with approval. Andrew Williams nodded, studying the handouts.
“But I didn’t come here just to show you my past achievements.” Aisha moved to the final slides. “I want to share my vision for the advanced engineering division. I see a balance between innovation and proven methods, the importance of training young specialists, creating a mentorship system, and improving staff qualifications. Experience and youth must work together.”
Aisha said, “We need fresh ideas, but they must rely on a solid foundation of knowledge and practice. I see the engineering division as a team where every specialist grows professionally and brings maximum benefit to the company.”
She finished her presentation exactly within the allotted time: twenty minutes.
“Thank you for your attention. I’m ready for your questions.”
Questions poured in one after another. Andrew Williams asked about the technical details of the project. The representatives from the corporate office were interested in the financial aspects. Mike Evans clarified how the modernization would affect the production personnel.
Aisha answered clearly, specifically, and without fluff. She knew her project by heart—every number, every nuance.
When the questions ended, Mr. Peterson nodded.
“Thank you, Aisha Harmon. That was a very convincing presentation.”
Aisha gathered her materials and left the conference room. Her legs felt wobbly from the tension.
She walked into the restroom, locked herself in a stall, and leaned against the wall. Her hands were shaking, and her heart was racing.
That was it.
She had done everything she could.
Aisha spent the rest of the day in her cubicle trying to focus on her current work, but her thoughts kept returning to the presentation. What if it wasn’t good enough? What if they chose Walter Price for his experience or Andre for his fresh perspective?
Serena rushed over five times.
“Well? How did it go?”
“It went fine, I think,” Aisha replied. “The committee is deliberating now.”
“Aisha, I’m sure you’re the best. Everyone in the division is rooting for you.”
At four o’clock, all three candidates were called back to the conference room.
Aisha walked down the corridor, feeling every step reverberate in her temples.
They entered. The committee was seated at the long table. Mr. Peterson stood up.
“Thank you all for participating in the competition,” he began. “All the presentations were worthy. The decision was not easy.”
A pause.
Aisha clenched her fists.
“But the committee unanimously made a decision.” Mr. Peterson looked directly at her. “Aisha Harmon—congratulations. Effective December 1st, you will take up the position of head of the advanced engineering division.”
The world seemed to stop for a second.
Then a ringing started in her ears.
Her heart plummeted and then soared upward.
“Thank you,” Aisha managed to stammer out. “Thank you so much. I will do my best to justify your confidence.”
Walter Price shook her hand, though disappointment was visible in his eyes.
“Congratulations! Well deserved!”
Andre also congratulated her, though his smile was strained.
“Good job. That was a strong presentation.”
Andrew Williams walked over and clapped her on the shoulder.
“Aisha, your modernization project was the decisive factor. We saw not just words, but real results. Keep it up.”
Aisha walked out of the conference room and then it hit her. The emotions she had been suppressing all day broke through. Tears welled up.
She quickly walked to her cubicle and closed the door.
She had done it.
She was the head of the advanced engineering division.
$150,000 a year. New status. New life.
The door swung open and Serena burst in.
“Aisha!”
She rushed to hug her friend.
“I knew it. I knew you’d win.”
Other colleagues followed her—Tanisha, Omar, Mike, and a few others from neighboring divisions. Everyone congratulated her, shook her hand, and patted her on the shoulder.
“Aisha, you’re our boss now,” Tanisha laughed. “Just don’t be too hard on us.”
“I won’t.” Aisha smiled through her tears. “I promise.”
In the evening, after everyone had left, she remained alone in her cubicle. She sat at the desk, opened a drawer, and took out her work journal—pages of notes, calculations, project drafts. Twenty years of work documented in those pages.
She took out her phone and wrote a text to Ms. Pierce, her attorney.
Good evening. I want to add some information to the case file. I received a promotion today. Effective December 1st, my salary will be $150,000 a year. I think this is important.
The reply came a few minutes later.
Congratulations. Of course, this is very important. I will update everything tomorrow. By the way, we can file for divorce in two days. Everything is ready.
Aisha looked at the screen.
Divorce.
The official end of a twenty-year marriage.
Strangely, she didn’t feel the same pain she had a week ago—only a quiet sense of calm, a realization that this was necessary.
She stood up, collected her things, turned off the light in the cubicle, and walked through the deserted plant toward the exit.
The security guard, Mrs. Johnson, smiled at her.
“Heard the news, Aisha. Congratulations. You made head of the division.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Johnson.”
“Good for you. You earned it. Been working hard all these years. Everyone sees it.”
Aisha stepped outside. It was late November, and a cold wind whipped through her hair.
She paused on the steps, looking at the plant—the tall smokestacks, the lights in the workshop windows, the sound of the machines running.
Her home.
Now she was more than just a senior engineer here.
She was the head of the advanced engineering division.
At home, Aisha walked through the condo for a long time. Darnell still hadn’t shown up. His things were still in the closet and on the bedside table.
She opened the closet and started carefully folding his clothes into boxes—shirts, jeans, jackets—everything he hadn’t taken.
Let him pick them up when he comes for his papers.
She went to the kitchen, brewed tea, sat down at the table, and opened a document on her laptop.
She began to type.
Darnell, I received a promotion effective December 1st. I am the head of the advanced engineering division with a salary of $150,000 a year. The divorce and division papers are on the table. Everything is filed through an attorney. Everything is legal. I have packed your things in boxes. They are in the hall. Pick them up when it is convenient. Leave the keys on the entry table.
Aisha.
Short. To the point. Without emotion.
She printed the note and placed it in the center of the table. Next to it, she laid out the paperwork from the attorney—the petition for divorce, the division proposal, the official letter confirming her new salary, and the account summaries showing her mortgage contributions.
Let him see it.
Let him read it.
Let him understand what he lost.
Aisha looked at the spread of paper.
Everything was ready.
All that remained was to leave.
She packed a small bag with the essentials for a few days. Serena had offered to let her stay at her place until the situation settled.
Aisha called her friend.
“Serena, can I come over now?”
“Of course. I’m waiting for you. We’re going to celebrate your victory.”
Aisha glanced around the condo.
Twenty years of life here.
Twenty years of memories.
But now it was just a space—walls, furniture, belongings—not a home.
She walked out, locked the door, and descended the stairs.
The elevator was, as usual, out of service.
She got into her car, an old Toyota she had bought with her own money five years ago.
On the way to Serena’s, Aisha turned on the radio. Some light music was playing. She drove through the evening city, looking at the lights, the people on the sidewalks, and for the first time in weeks, she felt not heartbreak, but something else.
Freedom.
At Serena’s, they truly celebrated. They set the table, opened a bottle of champagne, and talked until late.
“To you,” Serena raised her glass. “To Aisha Harmon, head of the advanced engineering division.”
“To a new life,” Aisha added, clinking glasses with her friend.
They drank. The champagne bubbles tickled her tongue.
“You know what I think,” Serena said, setting her glass down. “All of this happened for the best. Darnell left and cleared the way for you. You held on to him for so many years, trying to save the family, and all he did was drag you down.”
“Maybe,” Aisha murmured, turning the glass in her hands. “I don’t know. It still hurts, but at the same time, I feel lighter, like a weight has been lifted.”
“Because it has,” Serena nodded. “He was a weight. You just didn’t notice.”
They sat a little longer, talking about work and plans for the future. Aisha detailed the changes she wanted to implement in the division, how she planned to structure teamwork.
“You’ll handle it,” Serena said confidently. “You’re a natural leader. You know how to listen, how to make decisions, and you’re not afraid of responsibility.”
“I hope so.” Aisha smiled. “First time in a role like this. It’s kind of scary.”
“Being scared is normal. The important thing is that you didn’t give up.”
Aisha went to sleep on Serena’s living room sofa, covered herself with a throw, and stared into the darkness. She thought about tomorrow, about Darnell coming home soon and finding her note, about how he would react.
And strangely, she didn’t care.
Let him react however he wanted.
It wasn’t her problem anymore.
She closed her eyes and fell into a peaceful sleep for the first time in many days.
The next two days were spent preparing for her new position. Mr. Peterson called Aisha in to discuss the transition details. Mr. Harrison, the current head of the division, began handing over his duties, acquainting her with the nuances of management work.
“Aisha, the main thing is don’t be afraid to make decisions,” he said, sorting through folders of documents, “and trust your team. You have good specialists.”
Aisha absorbed every word, took notes, and asked questions.
Ms. Pierce called in the late afternoon.
“Aisha, the papers are ready. We’re filing with the court tomorrow. Are you sure?”
“Yes,” Aisha replied without hesitation. “File them.”
“Great. Just one more thing. I need your sign-off on a few pages. Can you come by this evening?”
“Of course. Six works.”
“Excellent. I’ll see you then.”
Aisha signed all the necessary papers at the attorney’s office—the divorce petition and the division agreement. Everything was drafted clearly, legally, and in her best interest.
“Darnell will receive the summons within a week,” Ms. Pierce explained. “If he wants to contest it, there will be hearings, but I doubt he will. He has no grounds. Everything is by the book.”
“Thank you.” Aisha shook the lawyer’s hand. “For everything.”
“Good luck to you, and congratulations on your promotion. You’re truly impressive.”
Aisha left the office. It was dark and the streetlights were on.
She got into her car but didn’t drive straight to Serena’s. She pulled out her phone, opened the map, and looked up the address of her condo.
Darnell had probably already been there, seen the note, and collected his things.
Aisha started the car and drove home—just to check, just to be sure.
She climbed the stairs to the fourth floor. The elevator was still broken.
She opened the door with her key.
The condo was dark and quiet.
She turned on the light.
The boxes with Darnell’s things were gone from the hallway.
His keys were lying on the entry table, neatly placed where his wedding ring had been.
Aisha walked into the kitchen.
The table was empty.
The note and the documents were gone, so he had been here—read everything, taken his things, and left.
She sat on a chair and looked around.
The condo felt both familiar and alien. Everything was in place, but something vital was missing.
The presence of life.
Aisha stood up and walked through the rooms. In the bedroom, half the closet was empty. In the bathroom, his razor, shampoo, and toothbrush were gone. In the living room, his car magazines had vanished.
He was truly gone.
Finally, Aisha returned to the kitchen and turned on the kettle. While the water was boiling, she stood at the window, looking out at the evening courtyard. Kids were playing in the small park despite the cold. A neighbor was walking her dog.
Ordinary life.
The kettle whistled.
Aisha made tea, sat down at the table, took out her phone, and opened her gallery. Photos of their trips together, holidays, everyday life. She scrolled through them for a long time, examining the faces on the screen.
Then she created a new folder, titled it Past, and moved all the photos with Darnell into it.
She didn’t delete them.
She just removed them from the main gallery.
The past.
It would remain in her memory in these snapshots—twenty years of her life—but it would no longer define her present.
Aisha finished her tea, washed the cup, turned off the light, and drove back to Serena’s.
“So, you went home?” her friend asked when Aisha returned.
“I did. He took his things and left the keys.”
“How are you doing?”
“I’m fine.” Aisha sat on the sofa. “Honestly, fine. It’s strange, but I even feel relieved. There’s a finality to it.”
“That’s great.” Serena sat next to her. “So, you’re ready to move on?”
“Looks like it.”
They watched a movie and drank some wine. They simply sat in silence. Aisha felt grateful for this woman who had been her rock during the hardest days.
“Serena, thank you,” she said quietly. “For everything. For not letting me break down.”
“We’re friends.” Serena shrugged. “How could I do anything else?”
Aisha smiled.
Friends.
Yes, she had a true friend. She had the work she loved. She had a new position and new prospects.
She had herself—strong, capable, talented, and gray-haired.
Let her be gray.
It was just hair.
Darnell parked his old Chevy Impala outside the condo building three days after he left home. He had spent those three days with Kylie, the twenty-eight-year-old for whom he had abandoned his wife. They were renting a studio apartment on the edge of the city, and those days had been filled with the illusion of a new life.
Kylie cooked him breakfast, laughed at his jokes, and didn’t nag him about the mess.
But this morning, she had reminded him that the lease ended in a week, and they needed to decide where they would live next.
Darnell had promised to sort out the condo, get the papers, and finalize everything with Aisha.
He climbed the stairs to the fourth floor with a sense of superiority. He imagined Aisha sitting at home, heartbroken, crying, begging him to come back. He would be magnanimous, refuse her, take his things and papers, and slam the door.
Clean. Final.
Darnell opened the door with his key.
The condo was quiet, empty.
“Aisha,” he called out, taking off his jacket.
No answer.
Darnell walked into the living room, then the kitchen.
No one.
Strange.
He looked at his watch.
6:30 in the evening.
She was usually home by now.
Something white was on the kitchen table. Darnell walked closer. A sheet of paper neatly printed. Next to it, some documents stacked in a pile.
He picked up the note and started reading, at first distractedly, with a smirk.
Then the smile froze.
His eyebrows shot up.
Darnell, I received a promotion. Effective December 1st, I am the head of the advanced engineering division with a salary of $150,000 a year.
Darnell reread the lines twice.
$150,000.
Head of the division.
Aisha.
He grabbed the documents from the table.
The first page—a memo from the plant, official, with a corporate seal—confirming that Aisha V. Harmon is appointed to the position of head of the advanced engineering division effective December 1st with an annual salary of $150,000.
Darnell slumped into a chair.
$150,000.
He made $45,000—less than a third of her new salary.
His hands automatically reached for the next document.
Petition for dissolution of marriage, official, with Aisha’s signature and the law firm’s stamp.
Filing date: two days ago.
The next document: proposal for the division of marital assets.
Darnell started reading, and his face slowly turned white.
The condo at address was acquired during the marriage. However, the majority of the mortgage contributions were made by Aisha V. Harmon as documented by the attached account summaries and records. Based on the principles of community property law and considering the party’s actual financial contributions, the proposed division grants 65% of the condo’s value to Aisha V. Harmon and 35% to Darnell A. Hayes.
Darnell flipped further.
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