It's my fault, not yours

I froze in my steps, my eyes darting around before my gaze landed on a box not too far from where I stopped. It was wrapped in a pink gift wrapper and he placed a white paper on top. With shaky legs, I walked towards it, still looking around, trying to check if I would notice something odd from those walking around.

Everyone's attention was either on where they were going or the call they were making. None glanced my way as I strode to the package and bent to pick up the paper.

To Summer, it read.

I peered at the box before I lifted it. It wasn't as heavy as I expected, seeing how big the package was. I peered around once more before I turned and returned to the office, forcing a smile at the workers who greeted me.

Mitch was still in the restroom when I returned. The moment I dropped the package on the table, he stepped out.

“Baby girl did you —” he paused in his steps, his eyes moving to the box on the table. “What's that? Who delivered it?” He walked towards me, his gaze still