The 100th Goodbye

Ethan Miller, a meticulously dedicated executive assistant, harbored a quiet, consuming love for his brilliant, cold CEO, Seraphina Croft, for a decade, meticulously executing their long-standing, seemingly playful pact: he would propose 99 times, and on the monumental 100th attempt, she promised to finally say yes.

On the highly anticipated 100th proposal day, standing hopeful and alone on the iconic steps of the New York Public Library, Ethan didn't receive a message from Seraphina; instead, his phone exploded with viral images showing her radiant and passionately kissing her trendy fitness influencer boyfriend, Chase Dubois, at a Silicon Valley gala.

Left utterly humiliated and publicly scorned, Ethan became an overnight internet sensation, dubbed "The Library Groom," a pitiful figure against the grand facade as speculation, pity, and cruel mockery flooded online forums about the woman who had so callously stood him up.

His heart, which had swelled with unwavering hope through countless rejections, now reeled from the brutal reality: was his decade of silent devotion and tireless support nothing more than a convenient tool for her public image, a disposable accessory to her soaring career?

As a violent thunderstorm mirrored the turmoil within, and Seraphina then casually suggested a "101st proposal" purely to fix her tarnished PR, Ethan, finally seeing her true manipulative nature, made a decisive, life-altering choice: he severed all ties, resigned from AuraCorp, and vanished into the pouring rain, determined to build a new life from the ashes of his shattered love.

Ethan Miller checked his watch again, the cold autumn air biting at his cheeks.

This was it, the 100th time.

He stood on the iconic steps of the New York Public Library, a place Seraphina once idly mentioned she loved.

Years ago, when AuraCorp was just a dream in her beautiful head, they' d made a pact, a playful agreement born from late nights and cheap takeout.

Ninety-nine proposals, she' d said with a laugh, and on the hundredth, she' d say yes.

Ethan, her executive assistant, her shadow, her unwavering believer, had held onto that.

He' d loved her for years, a quiet, consuming ache.

Today was the day.

He' d planned it meticulously, a simple, public declaration.

No grand gestures this time, just him, the steps, and the ring in his pocket.

But Seraphina was late, very late.

Then his phone buzzed, not with a message from her, but with notifications.

Social media was exploding.

Images of Seraphina Croft, CEO of AuraCorp, at a high-profile tech gala in Silicon Valley.

Seraphina, radiant in a designer gown.

Seraphina, sharing a very public, very passionate kiss with Chase Dubois, the trendy fitness influencer, her current arm candy.

Ethan' s stomach dropped, the cold on his cheeks now seeping into his bones.

He was alone on the library steps, a small, hopeful figure against the grand facade.

Soon, his own image started appearing online, "The Library Groom," they called him.

Speculation ran wild about the woman who stood him up.

The comments were a mix of pity and mockery.

Later that evening, after the initial storm of online backlash for her perceived callousness, Seraphina finally contacted him.

Her voice was a little strained, a hint of guilt perhaps, or maybe just annoyance at the bad PR.

"Ethan, darling, I am so, so sorry about today," she'd said, "Things got... complicated. But you know our agreement. You did your part."

He listened, his face blank.

"So, let's do it right," she continued, her voice regaining its usual confident charm, "A 101st proposal. Tomorrow. Same place. I' ll be there. We' ll make it perfect. For the press, for us."

She wanted to finally accept, to fix her image.

The next day, Ethan was back at the library steps.

He saw the paparazzi lurking, tipped off, no doubt.

Seraphina would arrive soon, dressed impeccably, ready for her close-up.

He took out his phone and sent a curt text: "Seraphina, there's no 101st. We're done."

He hit send and shoved the phone in his pocket, then tried to hail a cab.

His phone rang almost immediately, Seraphina' s name flashing on the screen.

He let it ring for a moment, then answered.

"Ethan! Where are you? You're supposed to be here!" Her voice was sharp, irritated.

"I'm at the Library steps," he replied calmly.

A pause, then, "Oh, right, the proposal! Silly me. Stay there, I'll come get you. I' m almost there."

He knew she was lying, she was probably still getting her makeup done.

A sudden, severe thunderstorm broke then, the sky opening up with a violence that matched the turmoil inside him.

Rain lashed down, soaking him to the skin in minutes.

He waited.

His phone battery, already low, finally died.

The last social media post he' d seen before it went dark was from Chase Dubois: "Stormy night, cozy vibes with my queen @SeraphinaCroftOfficial," accompanied by a selfie of them, snug and laughing inside her luxury penthouse.

Each of his 99 previous proposals, often elaborate, tied to company milestones or anniversaries of their working together, had been met with a similar, albeit less direct, dismissal.

Seraphina would always ensure a public appearance with Chase coincided-a film premiere, an exclusive party, a "spontaneous" weekend trip hyped on Instagram.

He' d been a fool, a devoted, hopeful fool.

But no more.

The rain, the cold, the dead phone, the image of her with Chase – it was a perfect storm of disillusionment.

He started walking, miles in the pouring rain, until he found a budget motel on the outskirts of the city.

Seraphina never called back, never showed up at the library.

The next morning, shivering and hollow, Ethan took a cab to the AuraCorp headquarters.

He was going to draft his resignation.

Ethan had been Seraphina' s right hand since AuraCorp was a fledgling startup, a tiny office with big dreams.

His contributions were immense, foundational even, but largely uncredited, lost in the glare of Seraphina' s charisma.

He was good at his job, exceptionally so, anticipating her needs, solving problems before she even knew they existed.

He was working on his laptop in his small cubicle, the resignation letter almost complete, when Seraphina' s imperious voice cut through the office hum.

"Ethan! My office, now!"

He quickly switched screens.

Colleagues exchanged knowing glances, whispering.

Most assumed he was in trouble, especially since Chase Dubois was so publicly Seraphina's partner.

In her opulent office, Seraphina didn' t offer him a seat.

She paced, berating him for not being at her beck and call the previous night, for the "embarrassment" at the library.

He listened, saying nothing.

Then, as if an afterthought, she said casually, "About this whole proposal thing, I' ve thought about it. I' ve decided I' ll accept."

She smiled, a dazzling, practiced smile that used to make his heart skip a beat.

As a supposed make-good for her no-show, she handed him a small, glossy envelope.

"VIP passes. That musician you like. Sold out, but I pulled some strings."

He took the passes, she owed him that much, and a hell of a lot more.

Just then, her personal phone buzzed on her desk, Chase' s name lighting up the screen.

Her expression softened instantly.

"You can go, Ethan," she said, already reaching for the phone, dismissing him with a wave of her hand as she eagerly answered.

"Hey baby," she cooed into the receiver.

Ethan returned to his cubicle, his face unreadable.

He finalized his resignation letter, printed it, and walked to Marcus Thorne' s office.

Marcus, AuraCorp' s COO, was a quiet, observant man who had witnessed Ethan' s unwavering dedication and Seraphina' s dismissive behavior for years.

He read the letter, his eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Ethan? Are you sure about this?"

"Yes, Marcus. I am."

Marcus looked at him, a flicker of understanding in his eyes. He suspected Seraphina' s treatment was the cause, though he didn't pry.

He signed the approval. "I' m sorry to see you go, Ethan. You' ve been invaluable."

"Thank you, Marcus."

As Ethan left the building later that day, carrying a small box with his few personal items, he encountered Seraphina and Chase arriving, laughing together.

Seraphina barely glanced at him. "Oh, Ethan. Email me any updates you have. I' m swamped."

Chase shot him a smug, triumphant smirk.

Ethan just nodded and kept walking.

That evening, Ethan attended the concert alone.

The music, by his favorite artist, was incredible, but he felt a strange detachment.

Seraphina, predictably, didn' t show up, didn't even text.

He wasn' t angry anymore, not even disappointed.

There was just a quiet resolve, a sense of an ending.

After the concert, he walked along the Brooklyn Bridge promenade, the city lights glittering across the water.

His phone, recharged, started buzzing with news alerts.