Three years after the divorce, my ex-husband Julian showed up with roses, grinning like he’d already won. “Babe, I kept my word. Right on time to get you back.” Three years ago, he played Truth or Dare with his friends and lost to his childhood sweetheart Serena. Serena had a request: “I want to see if you and your wife are really in love.” “So you two get divorced. Three years. No contact.” “If she remarries you after three years, I’ll admit it’s true love.” He and Serena never had boundaries—always flirting, always blurring the lines. We fought about it constantly. I thought he’d say no. He agreed without hesitation: “Deal! ” His friend tried to stop him: “Dude, think this through! Divorce isn’t a joke!” He looked at me like it was already settled: “I trust what we have. My wife’s obsessed with me for life.” “She’ll definitely remarry me!” I didn’t say a word. He had no idea that was his last chance. Back to the present—he shoved the flowers at me. I didn’t take them. Stepped back. Voice flat: “My husband doesn’t let me take flowers from other men.” … A smirk tugged at Julian’s lips. “Mad at me?” “Come on, I’m here now, aren’t I?” “Be good. Don’t be mad.” His tone was syrupy, convinced I was playing hard to get. Like before, he moved in to pull me close. I stepped back again. Face harder now: “Mr. Chase, keep your distance!” His hand froze mid-air, eyes still glued to my face, all soft and loving. “Really pissed this time?” “Tell me what’ll make you feel better. Anything.” Still thought he could sweet-talk his way out of it, like always. He stepped closer. Every step he took, I took one back. His eyes flared with that hunting look, like he was already claiming me. “Julian, three years is enough to change everything.” He nodded like he agreed: “True.” My back hit the wall. Nowhere left to go. He caged me in, hands on either side of my head—his signature move. Back when we were dating, he loved pinning me against walls, kissing me under the moonlight. “Did you have a boy? Or a girl?” His hand came up to cup my face, thumb stroking my cheek. The thought of that baby still tore through my chest. Three years ago, he knew I was pregnant. After he lost that stupid game— At Serena’s demand, he divorced me anyway. Three years. No texts. No calls. Nothing. Now he had the nerve to assume I’d have his kid, sit around waiting for him to come back! A bitter smile curled my lips. Before I could tell him I got rid of it, his phone rang. He pulled it out. The screen lit up with a contact name: Little Princess. That’s what he called Serena. I’d seen it a thousand times—the way he’d pat her head, grin, and say she’d been his little princess since they were kids! Never gave a damn how it made me feel when I was still his wife. He answered immediately. “Julian, please, come quick—I’m on my period and it hurts so bad.” Serena’s whiny crying came through the speaker. Julian’s eyes filled with panic: “Don’t worry, I’m coming right now.” He hung up. Gave my head a quick pat like I was some obedient pet: “I gotta check on Serena. I’ll come find you later.” Before I could blink, he was gone.
Serena posted to her feed like clockwork—showing off again, rubbing it in. The photo showed her lying in Julian’s arms, hair damp with sweat. Julian’s hand was on her stomach, rubbing gently. Her caption: He’s loved me most since we were kids. No matter how important the matter, or how important the person— As long as I’m not feeling well, he drops everything and rushes to my side. Giving me all his care and love. He’s truly the best man in the world!!! I hit Like. Not just one Like—every single day for three years, Serena posted about their relationship. Three years. She posted 1,095 times. I liked every single one. She found new ways to flaunt it daily. Like how she didn’t work—Julian gave her his card, unlimited spending. She could crash at the place Julian and I used to share whenever she wanted. My stuff? She’d use it if she felt like it, toss it if she didn’t. For three years, those two did everything couples do. I knew she posted them for me to see. Every Like was my way of showing I didn’t give a shit. But Serena thought I was jealous, losing my mind, desperate for attention. Next time I saw Julian was when he and Serena showed up at my coffee shop. They wore matching camel coats—couple’s outfits. Julian, who always wore boring suits, was in some trendy casual blazer. I used to suggest couple’s outfits. He’d always say he was used to suits, didn’t want to switch it up. Serena looked around my coffee shop, eyes wide. Shocked. Julian frowned at me: “I gave you all that money. Why are you doing this kind of hard labor?” When we divorced, I asked for half his assets. He gave it without hesitation. I stopped making the coffee in my hands, looked up at him, face blank: “Because I want to. And it’s none of your business.” Julian’s expression didn’t change. Still convinced I was just mad at him. Serena put on her fake sweet voice: “Chloe, it’s been three years. How’ve you been?” “Great.” Serena looked surprised by how calm I was. Julian’s phone rang. He turned and went outside to take it. The second it was just me and Serena, the mask dropped. Her smile twisted into something smug and taunting: “Stop playing games. But don’t get too excited yet.” She looked down at me, lips curled in a sneer: “Even if you remarry Julian this time, so what?!” “His mom hates you. She’s always wanted me as her daughter-in-law.” “Julian’s only remarrying you out of obligation.” “He even asked for my permission before coming to find you.” “And you’re signing a prenup.” “Oh, and I wrote it myself.” She pulled a prenup out of her bag and slapped it in front of me. I glanced down, barely hiding my disgust. First line: All Chase family assets have nothing to do with you. After marriage, you cannot call your mother-in-law Mom—must address her as Auntie. In public, you cannot claim to be Mrs. Chase—you’re the ex-wife only. The audacity made me laugh. I shoved the papers back at her: “If his mom loves you so much, how come you’re still nobody to him!” “Three years, and Julian still won’t claim you. How pathetic.” Serena’s face twisted. Her hand flew up to slap me— Then Julian’s footsteps echoed from behind. She switched faces faster than flipping a page, tears streaming, playing the martyr: “Chloe, I really do want you and Julian to remarry.” “As his childhood friend, I just want him to be happy.” “This prenup is just a formality. Don’t be upset, okay?” Same act as three years ago. The second Julian saw her crying, his brain turned to mush. Couldn’t tell right from wrong.
“Serena, what’s wrong?” Julian pulled Serena into his arms, eyes filled with concern. Serena shook her head, playing the victim: “It’s nothing. It’s my fault. Don’t blame Chloe.” The more she said that, the more Julian was convinced I’d hurt her. “Chloe!” He snapped at me: “Apologize!” His tone—like he was giving orders to the help. A cold smile crept across my face. He frowned, voice dripping with disappointment: “Serena grew up with me. She’s like my sister!” “She’s family. Can you stop being so hostile to her!” “For my sake, just be nice to her, okay!” My face stayed blank. I’d seen this exact scene a hundred times three years ago. I was over it. I was about to kick them out when my phone rang—video call. The screen lit up: Baby Boy. Julian’s eyes lit up when he saw that. He hit Accept before I could stop him. I grabbed my phone fast. My two-year-old son’s chubby face filled the screen. “Mommy, I miss you.” Julian heard “Mommy” and went rigid with excitement. Convinced I’d had his son. I said a quick word to my son. Before Julian could grab my phone to talk to him, I hung up. “I want to see my son!” He was grinning like an idiot, all the tension from before vanished like it never happened. Serena’s face darkened. “He’s not your son!” I looked him dead in the eye, voice ice-cold: “Stop bothering me, you sick freaks!” He didn’t get mad. Just kept assuming, condescending as hell: “Alright, alright. Stop being mad.” “I’ve really missed you and our son.” I finally got it. Guys like him—so full of themselves— Wouldn’t believe I’d stopped loving him until they saw my husband in person. He suddenly said: “Mom’s birthday is in a few days.” “You’re a good cook. Make some of her favorite dishes.” “Use this as a chance to fix things between you two.” “Now that you’ve given her a grandson, she won’t give you a hard time anymore.” So he knew. Three years of marriage— Three years of his mother treating me like garbage. His mother hated that I came from nothing. Even though I was Julian’s legal wife, she wouldn’t let me attend any family dinners. If she was there, I wasn’t allowed at the table. I hated her too. Our relationship was walking on eggshells—we just ignored each other. And in all of it, he’d stayed silent. A bitter smile tugged at my lips. I asked on purpose: “Julian, let’s say—hypothetically—” “What if I cook a whole feast and your mom still won’t let me sit at the table?” He hesitated before answering: “You can say something nice, butter her up.” “You know how she is—all bark, no bite.” Serena jumped in with fake helpfulness: “Chloe, it’s not shameful to beg your elders. Auntie can’t resist when someone begs at her feet.” She was mocking me, telling me to beg on my knees. I laughed bitterly, locked eyes with Julian, voice sharp and serious: “Julian, three years changes everything!” “I’m married now. And the kid isn’t yours.” Then I turned to Serena: “You should be the one begging on your knees. Maybe that’s your ticket into the Chase family.”
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