Coming home late at night, I stared at the highly explicit, scandalous photos on my phone. My chest felt incredibly tight. The woman posing in those photos was my fiancée, Chloe Henderson. She looked ecstatic, stretching her limbs in various seductive poses. Her face carried an expression of pure ecstasy—one I had never seen during our five years together. Around her neck, she was still wearing the diamond engagement necklace I had bought her. I clenched my fists, barely resisting the urge to smash my phone against the wall. How could she do this to me? The sender of the photos was Julian Vance. He was a washed-up, self-proclaimed artist who had just returned from Europe. He was also Chloe’s first love—her “one that got away.” Years ago, he abandoned her to pursue his career abroad, and they had a massive blowout, promising never to see each other again. I genuinely believed that chapter of her life was closed. I thought I was her future. But the moment Julian returned, everything shattered. ###
Even though Chloe and I had been dating for five years, she had always been incredibly conservative around me. She wouldn’t even wear a spaghetti strap top in front of me. Yet here she was, completely naked, captured by Julian’s camera. Even in the dim lighting, it was obvious she wasn’t being forced. She looked entirely willing. I sat in silence on the sofa, scrolling through every single photo. The bitterness in my heart slowly numbed, leaving behind nothing but a cold, hollow void. Right after, a text from Julian popped up. “So sorry, man. I desperately needed a model for my new exhibition, and Chloe was sweet enough to help me out. I hope she didn’t keep you waiting at City Hall?” He knew damn well that Chloe had gone to his studio early in the morning and hadn’t returned since. He was doing this on purpose. He wanted to mock me. I didn’t reply. Instead, I opened Instagram and saw that Chloe had just posted an update. It was a photo taken in Julian’s studio, but different from the ones he sent me. In this one, she was wearing a fluffy bathrobe, her hair damp. Her caption read: “You will always be my muse.” In the bottom-left corner of the photo, a messy pile of men’s and women’s clothes lay on the bed. The sheets were heavily wrinkled. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what had just happened. Our mutual friends, clueless about the truth, thought she was just showing off our relationship. They flooded the comment section with congratulations. Some of my buddies even texted me directly. “Wait, weren’t you guys supposed to sign your marriage license at City Hall today? Celebrating in a hotel already?” “When’s the wedding date, man? Don’t forget to send us the invites!” I didn’t reply to any of them. I stared at her post, and it felt like a slap in the face. I had waited at City Hall from sunrise to sunset. My excitement had slowly decayed into complete despair. At first, I was terrified she had gotten into a car accident. I frantically called her friends, asking if they had seen her. Now I realized how pathetic I was. She didn’t want to “take things slow.” I just wasn’t the “muse” she had been waiting for. ###
Chloe finally walked through the front door the next morning. She was holding a takeout container of clam chowder. “I stood in a long line just to get this for you,” she said, trying to sound sweet. “I know yesterday was my fault, but I had a really good reason. Please don’t be mad at me, okay?” I glanced at the lukewarm, greasy chowder. There was barely any seafood in it—just some watery broth and a few limp potatoes. Without saying a word, I drained my glass of warm milk. But no warm liquid could thaw the ice around my heart. Just minutes before she arrived, Julian had sent me another photo. It was Chloe standing in his kitchen, smiling as she cooked a fresh, gourmet pot of seafood chowder from scratch. We had been together for five years, and I never even knew Chloe could cook. When we first met, she told me she was completely useless in the kitchen because her parents had pampered her. So, for five years, I treated her like a spoiled princess and did all the cooking. Yet, my princess had gone to cook a gourmet meal for another man. And her “apology” to me was just Julian’s leftovers. Seeing my indifferent expression, Chloe’s smile faded. She stepped in front of me, blocking my path. “I didn’t mean to stand you up yesterday! My phone died. I texted you as soon as I could!” Her “text” was literally three words: “Let’s wait.” Every call I made after that went straight to voicemail. What was the point of explaining now? I slowly stood up, looking at her with cold eyes. “So, your way of ‘helping out’ was stripping naked to be Julian’s model?” “You were the one who set the date for us to get married. And you were the one who broke the promise. Do you even have a shred of respect for me?” My words triggered her. She slammed her phone onto the table in frustration. “I already told you! Marriage is a huge step. Can’t I have some time to think it over? I just wanted to postpone signing the papers. It’s not like I’m never marrying you!” She rolled her eyes, sat down aggressively, and knocked over our matching couple mugs. *Smash!* I looked at the shattered red and blue ceramic pieces on the floor. Suddenly, I remembered last Valentine’s Day. Chloe had stood under a giant screen at the mall, holding a bunch of red roses, and proposed to me. She said her only birthday wish was for us to get married. She was the one who made the promise, and she was the one who shattered it. Maybe our relationship had been too smooth. I had never noticed how distant we had become. Lately, she was always checking her phone during our dates. She would stare at her screen late at night, giggling like a teenager. Whenever I asked, she would just shrug and say it was nothing. And I, like an idiot, kept living in a fantasy world, believing we would naturally get married, buy a house, and grow old together. Since she didn’t care anymore, why should I cling to this pathetic relationship? ###
Sensing the heavy tension, Chloe stepped closer and wrapped her arms around my neck, using her usual whiny tone. “Ethan, babe, I know you love me. Yesterday was totally my fault. I didn’t realize how important it was to you, and I made you wait. But look, I bought you chowder to make it up to you! Stop being mad, okay?” I brushed her hands off my neck. I couldn’t even look at the takeout box on the table. “Where did this chowder really come from, Chloe? You know the truth.” Just because she put it in a restaurant bag didn’t mean it was takeout. Our relationship was just like that bag—wrapped in a sweet package, but completely rotten on the inside. My words struck a nerve. Chloe’s face turned incredibly cold. “Ethan Carter, are you done throwing your tantrum? I apologized, and I explained. What else do you want from me?” “I’m still young! I don’t want to bind myself to a marriage so early. Is that a crime?” I let out a bitter laugh. Looking at her self-righteous face, I felt deeply exhausted. Sure. Why not? A suffocating silence filled the living room. I just stared at her familiar yet unrecognizable face. Before I could speak, her phone rang. Even though she quickly turned away, I caught the caller ID flashing on her screen. “Hubby ❤️” That used to be my exclusive contact name on her phone. And now, I was standing right in front of her. It wasn’t hard to guess who was calling. Chloe picked up, and Julian’s voice echoed through the speaker. “Chloe, I accidentally broke the ceramic figurine you gave me. My wrist is bleeding pretty badly…” “Oh my god, are you okay? I’m coming over right now. Wait for me!” She hung up and immediately rushed to grab her coat. Even a fool could see through this. I stepped forward and grabbed her arm. “Don’t go, Chloe.” But she didn’t even pause to look at me as she shoved her feet into her heels. “You heard him, Ethan! Julian is hurt. He’s an artist—his hands are his livelihood! Nothing can happen to them. I’m just going to check on him, and then I’ll be right back.” Something snapped inside me. The last thread of my patience broke. Five years of love couldn’t compete with a single lie from Julian. I watched her coldly pull her arm out of my grip and pick up her purse. I said quietly, “If you walk out that door, don’t bother coming back.” “What?” She spun around, looking genuinely confused. I met her gaze. “I said, if you go to Julian today, we are done. Let’s break up.” “Ethan! How long are you going to keep acting like a child? How can you be so incredibly petty? You can’t just throw the word ‘breakup’ around every time you’re annoyed! I have an emergency right now. We’ll talk when I get back tonight!” The door slammed, and her shadow disappeared into the elevator. I calmly locked the door and sat back down on the sofa. Let it be. I had invested so much time, energy, and money into this relationship. I had treated her like a queen, carrying all the burdens alone. And in the end, my queen stripped bare for another man’s camera. I had given her so many chances. But I finally had to admit—she was no longer the girl I fell in love with. ###
That night, I drove straight to a local lounge. My best friend, Marcus, had set up a table to celebrate my “last night of freedom” before marriage. When I told him we broke up, he was stunned. He slung an arm around my shoulder and waved his hand dismissively. “There are plenty of fish in the sea, man! Why cry over one dead flower? Don’t worry, I’ll introduce you to some gorgeous girls tonight.” I waved him off. I wasn’t in the mindset to start anything new. But Marcus didn’t listen. He dragged two beautiful girls over to our table anyway. Everyone was getting a bit tipsy, and the atmosphere was heating up, but I kept my distance. As I watched the crowd swaying on the dance floor, my eyes locked onto a familiar figure. It was Chloe. And Julian was standing right behind her, his hands wrapped tightly around her waist as they ground against each other. His wrists were perfectly fine. There wasn’t a single scratch on him. It was such a pathetic, obvious lie, yet Chloe had thrown away our five-year relationship just to run to him. I calmly looked away and poured myself another drink. Just then, a slender, pale hand rested on top of mine. “Drinking alone is boring. Let me join you.” I looked up. The dim, flashing lights of the lounge blurred her features, but she looked incredibly familiar. Seeing my confusion, she tilted her head, clinked her glass against mine, and smirked. “Don’t tell me you forgot who I am?” I blinked, staring at her face. The woman sat down right next to me, her eyes drifting toward Chloe on the dance floor. It finally clicked. Since college, Chloe had an arch-nemesis. They competed over everything—looks, family background, grades, jobs. The woman sitting next to me was her rival, Stella Winters. My first instinct was to pull away, but then I remembered Chloe and I were over. Stella was just an acquaintance I ran into at a bar. There was no reason to be dramatic. We ended up chatting, and before I knew it, we had finished a bottle of whiskey between us. Marcus walked back from the dance floor, giving us a knowing look. “That’s what I’m talking about! Who cares about an ex when there are better options right here? Enjoy your night, bro!” Fearing he would say something even more embarrassing, I kicked him in the shin. Marcus laughed and ran back to the dance floor with his girlfriend. Feeling the alcohol hitting my brain, I shook my head and stood up, ready to call an Uber. But before I could take two steps, Stella caught up and supported my arm. “I was just about to leave too. Want to share a ride?” It would have been rude to say no, so we walked out of the lounge together. Once we got into the back of the car, Stella accidentally tripped on her dress and fell right into my lap. I reflexively caught her. The warmth of her breath tickled my neck, and I suddenly realized how incredibly intimate our position was. I went to push her up gently, but she grabbed my hand. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes were wild and mesmerizing. She didn’t say a word, but her gaze spoke volumes. In the dark backseat, she slowly leaned in and pressed her cool lips against mine. She kissed me gently, whispering against my lips, “Chloe doesn’t deserve you. Stop wasting your love on her.” I didn’t pull away. I cupped the back of her head, and just as I was about to deepen the kiss, someone tapped loudly on the car window. I looked over and saw Chloe standing outside, looking utterly confused. “Is this Ethan’s car? Ethan, are you in there?” She leaned in, trying to peer through the tinted glass. I froze for a second, but Stella just smirked. She reached over and rolled down the window.
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