We broke up a year ago. Out of the blue, my ex-boyfriend, Jack Hart, decided to come back from the dead and text me. “Do you remember that lipstick you used to wear when we were together? What was the shade? I’m trying to buy one for my crush.” I paused for two seconds, then replied. “Oh, I forgot. You should ask one of your basketball teammates, he’s the one who bought it for me.” My phone stayed quiet for about two seconds before it started buzzing non-stop. “WTF!” “Who? Which teammate?” “Who the hell is it?!” “Answer me, I’m begging you.” I sent him a smirking emoji. “None of your business.” Friday night. I was happily slurping down my favorite mac & cheese when Jack decided to pop back into my life. Seeing the text light up my phone, I nearly did a 360-degree jump off the couch. Not because I missed him, but because there’s a certain satisfaction in knowing I won. When we broke up, I went all out—deleted and blocked Jack from everywhere. Complete breakup protocol. But I left his number untouched, waiting to see who would break first. He did. I immediately took a screenshot and called up my bestie, Sarah Grim: “Guess who just texted me? Jack!” She gasped, “No way! What does he want?” “Obviously, he’s realized how good he had it with me and is probably crying his eyes out right now.” I opened his message, ready to read some heartfelt apology or something, and hit him with a quick TD (which stands for “Too Dumb,” just my go-to response for these situations). But when I saw the content, the smile froze on my face. “Do you remember that lipstick you used to wear? What shade was it? I want to buy it for my crush.” Wow. Not only did he move on, but he’s chasing some new girl already. Guess the joke’s on me. Jack, always the smooth-talker. I took two seconds and shot back: “Oh, forgot. Why don’t you ask one of your basketball teammates? He bought it for me.” Then I shut off my phone. When I came back from washing dishes, I saw 99+ notifications. “?” “Anna, you better explain yourself!” “WTF!!” “Which teammate?!” “Who the hell is it? You better tell me!” “Where are you?!” “Answer me, I’m begging you.” “Don’t pretend you didn’t see this.” “So, you’re not going to tell me, huh?” Jack’s messages were flying in like they were free. I had no choice but to hit him with my ultimate move. I sent him a cheeky little emoji of a yellow bean sticking its tongue out, captioned: “None of your business.” The messages stopped for a moment. Then— “Anna Carter!” “You wait. I’m coming to your house right now.” Uh-oh. Someone’s pissed.
Jack and I started dating back in college, but we broke up after graduation. He’s a total contradiction. Before we dated, he had this cold, brooding, “untouchable” vibe. Once we started dating, though, that mouth of his turned sharp as a knife. If I took off my jacket, he’d say I looked like a bird spreading its wings. If I bent down to tie my shoes, he’d joke that I was a Transformer. This “untouchable” guy turned out to have a real gift for being annoying. I ranted to Sarah about it, and she said it’s just this thing now—boyfriends with “unexpected contrast.” Apparently, it’s trendy. But, to be fair, Jack had his good points. For example, he did all my elective course assignments. He also somehow got me through calculus, which I’d have failed without his help. And even my thesis framework? All Jack’s doing. It was so good it got voted “Outstanding Thesis,” and Jack stayed up late making the PowerPoint for my defense. The price of being an “academic queen” was that while Jack was killing it in his internship on Wall Street, I was just a lowly editor at a small studio. That’s also when we started drifting apart. Jack was swamped with his internship at the investment firm, so we barely talked. I’d hear from him two or three times a week, which was a far cry from what we used to be. I got it, though. He was working hard to secure his future. But what really ticked me off was this one time he finally had some time to be with me. After we had an amazing time together, I wanted to lie there and just trace my fingers over his six-pack. But nope. Jack got up, grabbed his laptop, and went straight back to work. Talk about cold-hearted. I lost it. I ripped off the necklace he bought me with his first paycheck and threw it at him. “Jack, I want to break up.” His face twisted, storm clouds gathering. Just thinking about it makes me shudder. Ugh, bad vibes. I lay down and tried to count sheep: “Jack’s cursed, cursed, cursed…” Just as I was drifting off, my phone rang. I sat up straight: “What? Jack’s in the hospital?” Was my wish that powerful? Should I buy a lottery ticket? “Miss Carter, you should come to the hospital. It’s not looking good.”
I rushed to St. Thomas’ Hospital. The emergency department was packed with people. I finally found the VIP ward and pushed the door open. Jack looked up at the sound. His white shirt was stained with a large patch of blood, half of his body exposed, arm in a cast. Luckily, that pretty face of his was still intact. The doctor handed me the report: “The patient was in a car accident. He’s got severe abrasions on his back, a broken arm, and a concussion.” That serious? Did he hit his head too? “He’s not going to have amnesia, is he?” I walked over to Jack and asked if he still knew who he was. Jack stared at me for a long moment before shaking his head. Great. This kind of cheesy plot only happens in bad TV dramas. Now it’s happening to me. The doctor sighed. “Miss Carter, please go to the front desk to settle the bill.” I blinked. “But I barely know him.” The doctor turned to Jack. “Didn’t you say she’s your girlfriend?” I shot him a glare. What’s going on? Jack quietly pulled out his phone and showed the doctor a picture of us together. In the photo, we were all cozy, kissing in the throes of young love. As if that wasn’t enough, he pulled up an old social media post from our college days—us, the perfect campus couple. I couldn’t believe he still had that. I had a sneaking suspicion Jack had been waiting for this exact moment to trap me. The doctor, convinced we were just a quarreling couple, waved it off and left. Now it was just the two of us in the room. I dropped the act. “I don’t have any money, so I’m leaving.” Jack suddenly grabbed me, but he accidentally tugged at his injured back, letting out a low, pained hiss. That sound… deep, restrained… Let’s just say it didn’t take much to make my mind go places, especially in the middle of the night, in a quiet hospital room. Jack, shameless as ever, gave me these big, sad puppy-dog eyes. “Babe, are we fighting? All the photos in my gallery are of you, and the chat logs are with you. Why can I only text you?” I swear, Jack’s face could make anyone weak. And now, with the added battle scars? It was almost too much. I clenched my hands to stop myself from swooning and said, “Jack, are you seriously faking amnesia?” “How long have we been broken up?” Jack’s breathing hitched, and he let his hand fall. “Babe, I’m not faking it. My memory might be foggy, but my love for you isn’t. “No matter what happened before, I’m sorry. “Don’t leave me, okay?” I couldn’t take it anymore. Even the strongest woman in the world wouldn’t be able to resist Jack when he was being all soft and vulnerable. What, was he bankrupt now? Faking amnesia just to save on hospital bills? Jack pulled out his phone. “Babe, can we at least add each other back on WhatsApp?” I responded coldly, “No way. Do you think you’re on my level to even ask?” Jack, unfazed, continued, “Babe, I’ll transfer you twenty grand. “Just pay the bill tonight, and you can keep the rest.” I have to admit, I finally found a man with a soft heart and a fat wallet. Without hesitation, I pulled out my phone. “Alright, fine.” Jack smiled in relief and scanned my WhatsApp. As soon as I walked out of the hospital, I called up Sarah and told her the entire weird story. Sarah immediately replied: “He’s faking it! He thinks life is some kind of soap opera. Be careful, girl, don’t let that jerk fool you!” I sent her a screenshot of the remaining balance—over ten grand. “Don’t worry, I got the cash. I’ll be gone by tomorrow.” Playing Jack is easier than playing fetch with a dog. Sarah sent me a big thumbs-up and a sharp review: “Only a tough girl like you could handle someone like him! You’re amazing, Anna!”
By the time I was done with everything, it was already past midnight. I figured I’d just crash at Jack’s VIP hospital room for the night. It would save me from hearing him complain that I took the money and ran. Dragging my feet back to the room, I found Jack sitting there like a sad, abandoned puppy. The moment he saw me come back, his eyes lit up. “You’re back.” I nodded and headed straight for the visitor’s bed, pulling the blanket over myself. The silence in the room was thick, the kind that buzzes with unspoken words. Jack broke it, his eyes boring into me. “Babe, who’s this ‘teammate’ you mentioned in your text?” I stiffened. I knew this was coming. “Why did he buy you lipstick? What shade was it?” I sat up abruptly. Of course, this was going to be a thing. When people are uncomfortable, they tend to fidget. I couldn’t come up with a decent explanation because, well… his teammate really did buy me that lipstick! But still, we were broken up. Jack had no right to grill me about it. I shot back, “I haven’t even asked you about this ‘crush’ you’re chasing. How long have you been after her, huh? Were you into her before we broke up?” Jack’s face darkened immediately. “I can’t remember much right now, but I know one thing for sure—I never had a crush.” Ah, so now we’re playing the amnesia card again. I rolled my eyes and lay back down, opening up TikTok to distract myself. The algorithm must know me well because it immediately started showing me videos of ripped, shirtless guys with abs for days. I started tapping the little red hearts, drooling at the sight. I didn’t even notice the way Jack’s gaze was drilling holes into me. Finally, my phone flashed the low-battery warning, and I turned to him. “Hey, did you bring a charger?” I wasn’t really expecting him to have one, but to my surprise, Jack mumbled, “In my bag.” Who brings a charger to the hospital? Typical Jack, always prepared. I hopped out of bed to grab it from his bag. He had one of those fancy leather briefcases, the kind every finance guy on Wall Street seems to own. But what really caught my eye was the tiny peanut keychain hanging off the side, completely out of place with the rest of the bag. I smiled, remembering that I’d given him that keychain for his birthday. I’d told him it symbolized “good things to come.” He’d acted all annoyed when I gave it to him, but here it was, still with him after all this time. Damn it, memories were starting to hit me again. I quickly found the charger and jumped back into bed. The next morning, I woke up to something that nearly made me choke. There was Jack, squatting next to my bed, completely shirtless. And those abs? Right there in my face, all eight of them, glistening in the morning light. No filters. No censorship. “Morning, babe. You’re finally up.” Babe? Jack only used that word in… well, certain situations. Yesterday, he’d been grossing me out with it all night. Now, we were doing this again? His face inched closer to mine, and I panicked. I shoved him away. “Seriously, dude? I haven’t even brushed my teeth yet!”
I never realized just how strong I was until that moment. Jack’s tall frame—what, he’s like 6’2”?—fell right to the ground with just one push. Unfortunately, he landed on his injured arm and winced. That pained sound he made? It was, well… let’s just say it made my heart skip a beat. Frantically, I jumped out of bed to help him up. My hand, completely on its own, managed to “accidentally” graze those glorious abs. Yep, still as firm and smooth as ever. Actually, they were even more defined than they had been back in college. Jack smirked, clearly enjoying this way too much. He grabbed my hand and pressed it against his abs, pushing my fingers along the ridges. With a low, seductive voice, he whispered in my ear, “You like them? I worked out just for you.” Cue instant heart palpitations. My face flushed as I yanked my hand back. “Have you no shame?” Instead of getting angry, Jack burst out laughing, his grin so wide it practically reached the back of his head. This guy… did that car accident knock something loose in his brain? He was acting like a completely different person. Before I could say anything else, the nurse walked in, clearing her throat loudly. “Alright, alright. Let’s get you patched up.” I wanted to die from embarrassment. I bolted for the bathroom to get myself together. By the time I came back, Jack had finished his treatment, sitting there in his hospital gown with a lazy smile. The nurse handed me two tubes of ointment. “Apply these once a day.” She turned to Jack, giving him a stern warning, “And no strenuous activities!” Jack winked at me as the nurse left, and I shot him a withering glare. I gathered up my things, though there wasn’t much—just my phone. Jack, still looking pitiful, asked, “Babe, where are you going?” “To work.” “But it’s Saturday.” I hesitated. Jack, ever persistent, pushed on, “I’m so badly injured, and I can’t feed myself. Can’t you stay and take care of me?” He was really laying it on thick now. “I already asked the doctor. You’ll be out of here in two or three days. You’re not exactly paralyzed.” Still, Jack wouldn’t let up. “Babe, how about this? I’ll pay you a thousand bucks a day just to bring me food.” I laughed, giving him a look. “Since when are you this loaded?” He shrugged. “I can’t remember exactly, but judging by my bank statements, I’m probably making at least a million a year.” I blinked. What the hell? I barely make seven grand a month! The gap between us was wider than I thought. “Alright, fine. I guess if it’s a humanitarian effort…” Jack’s transfer was smoother than clockwork.
Back home. I took a long, hot shower, then collapsed onto my bed, trying to make sense of everything. The extra money in my account was making my head spin. When Jack and I broke up, he acted like I owed him something. I used to fantasize about somehow making him pay, getting one over on him. Well, now I’ve got the money. But somehow, it didn’t feel as good as I thought it would. What Jack was doing didn’t feel like some desperate act of love. It felt more like he was trying to set me up, like a silent assassin. I didn’t tell Sarah about the money or anything else—she’d chew me out for sure. So, I buried myself in work to keep my mind off it. At mealtime, I ordered takeout for Jack, pretended I cooked it myself, and brought it to the hospital. Jack ate it up with enthusiasm and, for once, kept his mouth shut. He even complimented my “cooking,” saying it was great. One evening, while he was eating, I was busy working on a project. Suddenly, I heard a camera click. I looked up, frowning. “Don’t take pictures of me.” Jack, of course, ignored me, looking smug as he admired his phone screen. “I’m changing my wallpaper. The nurse thinks I’m single and keeps trying to set me up with her niece.” I bit my lip, stealing a glance at his sharp profile. I wasn’t stupid. I knew what Jack was doing. He was angling for a reunion, and I was starting to think maybe I should just let him have it—give him a way back into my life. But I needed to discuss it with Sarah first. But then, Jack slapped me with a reality check. And it hurt. A few days later, I arrived at the hospital about thirty minutes early to bring him dinner. As I reached the door to his room, I stopped dead in my tracks. There was Jack, hurriedly stripping off his suit jacket and slipping into his hospital gown. Standing next to him was a sophisticated woman, with soft, wavy hair and a form-fitting business suit that emphasized her figure. She moved with an ease that suggested they were familiar—too familiar. She was helping him with his tie, her hands brushing against his neck. “Slow down, no need to rush,” she said softly. The way they stood together, the comfortable closeness… it was clear they were more than casual acquaintances. Jack didn’t even seem to notice the intimacy of it all, letting her touch him like it was completely natural. I let out a bitter laugh, turned on my heel, and walked away. I had been played. Twice. If I ever let Jack back into my life again, I’d be a fool.
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