What’s done is done

For what it is worth, I tried to call her. I really tried, and I almost did, nearly did.

After my second message was delivered, a sour aftertaste of my own actions developed in my heart, and I wished I could unsend the message. But I couldn’t, because “what’s done is done…”

The weekend was over in a minute and Monday was an important day of the week in my company.

My to-do list was mighty busy, and to meet all my schedules, I had to be there as early as possible.

My driver was already at the gate by 7 30am, waiting for me.

“Good morning Mr Leonardo.”

“Morning, Finn” I replied, stepping into the back of the Maserati.

For some reason, I had become fond of and comfortable with him.

He was literally my everything- my driver, my gate keeper, my gardener, my personal assistant, my confidant, and if I was too tired to cook, Finn would be my cook too. Always handy, delivering his jobs to perfection and I couldn’t help but rely on him.

Today was no different either, I didn’t have to tell