The summer of my sophomore year, Logan Hart lured me into his bed. From that moment, he seemed addicted—devoted to me for the next five years. My friends would tease him, calling him overly lovesick: “Even simps aren’t this devoted.” Until one day, I stumbled upon his secret WhatsApp account. Thousands of status updates—all filled with pictures of his childhood sweetheart in plaid schoolgirl skirts. The girl in the photos was youthful and captivating, her charm impossible to ignore. I then realized that these five years were nothing but a trade-off. While his body was with me, his heart had long since found its way to her. Content The night Logan came home. He swept me into the bedroom with impatient hands when he stepped through the door. Logan’s appetite in that department was insatiable; a few days apart were all it took for his restraint to snap. There was no time for romance, just a rush to satisfy his needs. It was familiar, mechanical even. Quick and over. I collapsed onto the bed, barely conscious. Ding! His phone chimed with a notification. Logan glanced at the screen, immediately getting up to leave. “Where are you going this late?” He kissed my forehead softly. “Something came up at work. I won’t be long.” A strange sense of unease crept over me. Call it women’s intuition, but something didn’t feel right. Summoning my energy, I called his office: “Are many people working overtime tonight? I was thinking of sending everyone BBQ as a treat.” “No one’s working late tonight,” his assistant replied. “Mr. Hart gave us all the night off. The office is empty.” I hung up, staring blankly at the bed. If Logan wasn’t at work, where had he gone so late? By early morning, Logan returned with my favorite dumplings from Sullivan’s in Chicago. The dumplings were perfect—thin skin, rich filling, and a burst of savory broth. He grinned, ruffling my hair. “Anything you want, honey, even if it’s the moon, I’ll find a way to turn it into a pie for you.” I couldn’t help but laugh. Maybe I was just overthinking things. The idea of Logan not loving me? My best friend Marlow Hayes wouldn’t believe it for a second. “Sierra, you’re being paranoid again. Logan’s head over heels for you—he’d probably die without you. “You’ve been dating for five years, and every time you argue, who’s apologizing and begging you to make up? “Stop making him wait. Just marry the guy already.” Marlow wasn’t wrong. Logan had indeed given more in this relationship. But she didn’t know the truth—Logan had never proposed to me. He’d always say, “I want to give you the best, baby. Let me build a solid foundation before we talk about marriage.” I was young and didn’t want to be tied down by marriage. So we dragged on like this for five years. As I reheated the dumplings, I caught Logan on the couch, staring at his phone with a soft smile on his lips. “What’s making you so happy?” I asked. Hearing me, Logan quickly erased the smile from his face. “Nothing, just a funny video.” “Show me.” Instead of sharing, he put his phone away and scooped me into his arms.
He huskily whispered, “Nothing’s more beautiful than you.” Before I could argue, he pushed me down onto the bed, kissing and biting me playfully. His phone slid onto the mattress within my reach. It was his WhatsApp, but the account name was unfamiliar—Starry Sky. That night, I couldn’t sleep. I unlocked his phone and combed through the messages and posts individually. What I found left me reeling. The posts told a story of a Logan I didn’t recognize: October 9, 2019: Do you know what I did? I slept with someone else. You betrayed me first, so don’t blame me for doing the same. I remembered that night. Logan had stumbled into my apartment, drunk out of his mind. July 1, 2020: I’m preparing for my grad school exams. Don’t think graduating means you can leave me. That was the day he confessed his love to me. March 17, 2022: You dared to get engaged behind my back? I’ll never forgive you. That night, Logan was so drunk he scratched me in a frenzy, leaving red marks on my back. December 24, 2023: I know you broke up. I’ll always be here waiting for you. That was Christmas Eve when Logan told me he had a business dinner and couldn’t spend the holiday with me. My hands trembled as I scrolled to the most recent post, dated two nights ago—the night he left claiming he had work. “What’s lost will always find a way back to me.” The attached photo featured a young woman in a plaid schoolgirl skirt with a youthful and alluring figure. I zoomed in on the face. It was Wren Keaton, Logan’s childhood sweetheart. A wave of nausea hit me. My hands shook so hard I nearly dropped the phone. These five years hadn’t been love. I was nothing more than a stand-in while his heart stayed with her. Their shared past and youthful romance was their story, not mine. I had been the outsider all along. I didn’t cry or scream. Instead, I calmly took screenshots, saved everything, and placed the phone back where it was. That evening, Logan came to me with a new assortment of “toys.” I turned my back on him coldly. “I’m on my period. Not tonight.” Logan smirked and wrapped me in his arms, his voice teasing yet possessive. “I promise to be gentle.”
Logan tried coaxing me several times, but when I kept refusing, his expression darkened. “Well, babe, get some sleep. I need to swing by the office for work.” Marlow, my best friend, used to joke about Logan’s persistence: “You should be grateful. A man only sticks around like that if he loves you.” I used to think she was right. Logan never hid his physical desires. But now I understand the difference between men and women: men can separate their desires from their hearts, offering one to each. If a man truly loves someone, would he so carelessly hurt her to the point of breaking? On his secret WhatsApp story, Logan once described Wren as: “You’re my moonlight and a red string of fate. Just looking at you from afar is enough to fulfill me.” And yet, the first time Logan and I spent the night together, he treated me with reckless abandon, leaving me bruised and sobbing, begging him to stop. The difference between love and indifference—between us—was a gap I could never cross. I followed Logan to a café. Wren, dressed in a plaid schoolgirl skirt, was waiting at the door. She looped her arms around Logan’s waist as if they were teenage sweethearts. Logan pushed her against the wall, whispering something that made her smile. Under the dim streetlight, the two kissed passionately. From my hidden corner, I snapped photos of the scene. After five years of dating Logan, we’d tried every kind of intimacy, but he’d always avoided kissing me. Watching them, lips locked and bodies closed, I chuckled bitterly. So, it wasn’t that he hated kissing—it was just that he didn’t want to kiss me. Logan trailed kisses down Wren’s neck, stopping when he reached her collarbone. “Let’s leave it here for tonight. I’ll come back tomorrow.” Wren clung to him with a teasing pout. “Going back to that other woman?” Logan hesitated before replying, “You’re the most beautiful. She’s nothing more than a placeholder.” That seemed to satisfy her, and she smiled. Logan added casually, “Does the shop still have any ice cream? I’d like to take one with me.” At that moment, my phone buzzed with a message from Logan: “Hey, sweetheart, I’m bringing you your favorite pistachio ice cream. Happy now?”
He’s out with another woman but still bringing me her ice cream? I replied, “Oh, okay,” my face was cold as stone as I closed the chat. How much longer could he keep up this performance? Not long after, Logan returned, carrying a Sweet Red Bean Dessert. Trailing behind him was an inebriated Colton Rivers, his childhood friend. Colton was too drunk to stand, so Logan dropped him off in the guest room. Late that night, I went to the kitchen for water and overheard their conversation. Logan’s voice was sharp with irritation: “Keep screwing around like this, and don’t expect me to bail you out.” Colton, ever the carefree playboy, slurred in response: “You’re too uptight, man. Women are like clothes—you’ve gotta have a few spares, right?” “Messing around with random women will land you with a disease,” Logan shot back, his tone cold. “Find someone decent and settle down.” Colton chuckled drunkenly. “Like Sierra? She’s perfect—kind, sexy, everything. You’re one lucky guy. “But now that Wren’s back, when will you come clean to Sierra?” There was a long pause before Logan finally said, “Not yet. Wren hasn’t given me the green light.” Colton snickered. “Then pass Sierra my way after you break up. I’ve had my eye on her for ages.” Something in Logan snapped. The sound of a punch echoed through the room. Colton didn’t seem to mind, laughing as he rubbed his jaw. “Don’t play the saint now. Wasn’t it you bragging about how wild she is in bed? And now you’re acting all protective?” Outside the door, my blood ran cold. I never imagined Logan, who treated me so tenderly, could casually share the details of our intimacy with his friends. Then I heard Logan’s voice again, low and devoid of emotion: “Do whatever you want. She’s desperate for love. “Say the right words, and she’ll fall for it. She’s game for anything.” The words crushed me. The next day, I walked into Sugarland Creamery, the dessert shop Wren owned. The shop’s bright and elegant décor perfectly matched her style. When Wren saw me, surprise flickered in her eyes, but she quickly replaced it with a professional smile. I took a single bite of ice cream before setting the bowl down. “When did you get back to the States?” Her smile never faltered. “Just a few days ago.” I’d known about Wren for a long time. By the second year of my relationship with Logan, her name had already surfaced. One day, I stumbled upon a stack of boarding passes to Pacific Harbor in his desk drawer. He was flying there nearly every weekend. When I asked, he said she was unwell and needed his care. But when I had a fever and was hospitalized, Logan had dinner with her in Pacific Harbor. When our anniversary came, he left to see her in the middle of the night. We fought over her countless times. Whenever I threatened to leave, Logan would find a way to win me back.
Later, I heard that Wren Keaton had married while abroad, and that was when she and Logan Hart finally cut ties. Now divorced and back in town, it wasn’t surprising that their old flame had reignited. “How are you adjusting to life up north? Have you found a good place to live? “Why don’t you move in with us? It’s so inconvenient out there on your own.” I smiled warmly, peppering Wren with questions about her return. “Is running the dessert shop tiring? Do you need any help?” Wren grew increasingly uncomfortable, her eyes darting to Logan for rescue. Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore and interjected, “There’s no need for that. She’s fine where she is.” Before leaving, I bought a serving of ice cream, smiled politely at Wren, and said goodbye. Logan was quiet on the drive home, his expression dark with barely contained anger. Once we were in the car, he couldn’t hold back any longer. He grabbed me, pushing me back into the seat. “What were you doing back there? Trying to humiliate me?” “What are you hiding that you’re so scared of me seeing?” Logan’s hand clamped onto my jaw as he leaned in, his anger simmering under the surface. “Sierra, will you stop making a scene?” I had no intention of playing along anymore. Pulling the screenshots from his secret account, I shoved them in his face. “This is what you call late-night work? Exactly what kind of work needs a bed, Logan?” My voice was ice cold as I threw his words back at him. “You’re the one who’s desperate for love. “She whispers a few sweet words, and you let her do whatever she wants with you. “Logan, you’re pathetic.” “Let’s break up. I never want to see you or your side piece again.” Logan stiffened but quickly masked his reaction, trying to stay composed. “That night was a mistake. We only kissed—I never slept with her.” I let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “Well, that’s too bad. I still think you’re disgusting. I don’t want to risk catching something.” Logan finally snapped, picking up an ashtray and hurling it against the wall, where it shattered into pieces. “Sierra, do you have to be this cruel?” Blood trickled down his hand from the shattered glass, but he didn’t seem to care. “Was it Colton who told you?” “Why does it matter who told me?” “It has to be him. There’s no one else.” Logan let out a cold laugh, his hand tightening into a fist. “Yesterday, he was joking about sleeping with you, and today you show up here? I’m going to deal with him.” My anger flared. “Who cares who told me? The evidence is right here—you cheated on me!” I thrust his phone into his face, the records from his secret account scrolling past. “If you like her so much, at least have the guts to admit it. All this sneaking around just makes you look pathetic.” Logan couldn’t hold back his anger any longer. He slammed his fist into the table, yelling, “Nothing happened with Wren! Stop making baseless accusations!” I stared at him, unmoved. It was clear he’d rather die than admit the truth. After a long silence, Logan’s expression softened as he spoke evenly. “You’re just looking for an excuse to leave me for Colton, right?” Logan packed his bags with practiced efficiency and walked out of my apartment. “When you regret this, don’t come crawling back.” He gave me a lingering look, his lips curving into a smirk. “No one else will make you feel the way I do.” When Marlow found out about our breakup, she was incredulous. She’d come to comfort me but froze when she saw my calmness. “Your relationship was like a TV drama. I can’t believe it ended like this.” I thought about it for a moment before replying, “A drama? Then I guess I was the lead actress?” “Obviously,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Logan was the male lead. Five years—that’s enough for a hundred episodes.” I laughed. “The man I choose is the male lead. A cheating jerk like Logan? Not even close.” A week after our breakup, Wren Keaton became the target of online harassment. Photos of her and Logan being intimate had gone viral. The internet quickly uncovered her background, and soon, the hashtags about her being a “homewrecker” were trending. Wren cornered me, tears streaming down her face. “Why would you do this to me?” I shoved her hands off me in disgust. Wren stumbled back and fell to the ground, scraping her hand. “Sierra!” Logan stormed in, his face contorted with rage. He barked at me like it was an order. “Get online and clear her name. Now!” “It has nothing to do with me,” I replied, indifferent. “Don’t lie. When did you become so vindictive?” Logan pulled Wren into his arms, shielding her like a fragile creature. “If you hate me, take it out on me! Why go after her? She’s just a young woman who’s done nothing to you.” I took a step closer and slapped him hard across the face. “The photos are all over the internet, and you’re still pretending to be innocent?” Wren quickly jumped in, pulling at Logan with a sentimental tone. “She’s just too hurt. Don’t be mad at her, okay?” I turned and slapped her to the ground. “Oh, I almost forgot about you, you little homewrecker.” Wren shrieked and lunged at me, clawing wildly. “My parents have never hit me. Who do you think you are?” I wasn’t interested in wasting energy on these two lunatics. I called security. “There are two people causing trouble here. Get them out.” Later that night, Logan showed up at my door.
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