After paying their salaries and dismissing them, I drew a circle on the calendar and wrote the last number—99.
I left a breakup note for Isaac. “My mother has passed away, and I’ve repaid your kindness. Let’s call it an end, Isaac.”
After placing Mom’s death certificate, the calendar and the note on the coffee table, I grabbed my suitcase and left for the airport.
I simply picked a flight, checked in, and boarded the plane.
The moment the plane flew across the sky, only then did Isaac return home in exhaustion, but the villa was empty. Confused, he called me.
His gaze ran past the post-it note on the coffee table. When he wanted to pick it up, an emotionless, robotic female voice said from the phone, “Sorry. The number you have dialed is unavailable…”
Then, he saw Mom’s death certificate. A realization hit him, and he grabbed my post-it note. When he read the words written on it, his eyes widened.
