“No,” I said.
He scoffed. “Don’t lie. Did I slip up? Did you
know all along?” He sneered. “So, you
suddenly want gifts? You’re just after my
money.”
My breath hitched. He twisted everything. Now I was a gold digger? I’d never even used his money! I was too exhausted to argue.
“We’re done. Get out.”
He smirked, thinking I was bluffing. “Chloe, don’t play games. You’re dying to latch onto me. A rich guy like me even looking at you is
a once–in–a–lifetime opportunity.” He
continued, “Girls like you just want a sugar
daddy. You’ve always loved money!”
My anger erupted. I threw the barbecue at
him, then the fruit on the table. He’d never
seen me like this. He dodged, frowning.
“Chloe, don’t be crazy!”
I kept throwing things. “Get out!” He finally
fled.
Silence descended. I sat amidst the mess,
sobbing. Eventually, I packed up his two shirts
-everything else was mine–and threw them
out. I scrubbed the apartment, erasing every
trace of him. By sunrise, I felt reborn.
L
I slept all day, then had a celebratory hot pot dinner, something I’d always denied myself. I
bought a dress I’d been admiring. Self–love
was better than his fake love.
I didn’t see Ethan again. My coworkers told
me he was getting married to some heiress, a
society girl. They were engaged. I felt nothing.
His life no longer concerned me. I’d erased
him. I focused on work, living for myself.
Just when I thought he was gone for good, he reappeared. He stood at my door, holding a
small box. “Chloe, hey,” he said, hurrying towards me.
I said nothing, wondering what game he was
playing. He looked sincere. “Chloe, I’m here to apologize. I was wrong. I shouldn’t have lied.” He gazed at me intensely, as if our fight, our breakup, had never happened. He offered the
box. “This is for you. That toner you wanted.”
