I had been sitting in the corner with a financial report open on my laptop when Julian approached my table.
“You look like someone who forgets to take breaks,” he had said with a smile.
I laughed.
“You look like someone who gives advice to strangers.”
“Only when they look like they need it.”
That was how it started.
He was charming. Confident. Attentive.
He remembered details about my life. He asked about my work. He listened when I spoke.
Or at least, I thought he listened.
Looking back, I realized something uncomfortable.
Julian had always loved the idea of me.
The successful woman.
The woman who owned her own home.
The woman who managed complicated projects and handled pressure.
The woman everyone respected.
But he had never truly accepted that those qualities meant I was my own person.
He admired my strength when it benefited him.
He disliked it when it challenged him.
