I couldn’t even speak through the flood of tears. He simply opened his arms, and I ran straight into them.
"Why are you here?" I choked out.
He stroked my hair and smiled.
"Silly girl, I couldn’t leave you like that."
That moment left a permanent mark on my heart.
Every fight afterward, I would back down because of that memory.
But now, in the chat, Ethan had said:
"See? It’s because I traveled cross-country overnight to see her that she fell hopelessly in love with me. Whenever we argue, I can always remind her of that night, and she has no defense. Women are easy to sway—as long as you make them feel touched."
"Brilliant, man. Absolutely brilliant!"
My hands shook around the phone.
So this was the truth. What I thought was love was actually leverage he held over me.
When had it started? When had he changed?
We had been together seven years—through college, long-distance, and now, on the verge of marriage.
When did his love turn into manipulation?
I placed the phone back as if nothing had happened, though the stabbing pain in my chest told me everything had changed.
That boy who once bought me breakfast, who faked being sick so we could quarantine together in the library during the pandemic—perhaps he had died long ago, and I was only realizing it now.
By the time Ethan came out of the shower, I was pretending to be asleep.
Ethan tiptoed into bed, careful not to wake me.
Later that night, I listened to his steady breathing, then slipped quietly out of bed.
In his briefcase, I found another phone. I didn’t know the password, but I carefully used his finger to unlock it with the fingerprint sensor.
When the screen lit up, my heartbeat quickened.
I locked myself in the bathroom and began scrolling. The more I saw, the more I realized I had loved a monster all these years.
The phone was full of filth—group chats of scantily clad women, explicit photos, and lewd banter with other men.
"This girl is hot."
"That’s nothing. I’ve seen wilder ones."
Ethan chimed in: "Hook me up!"
My stomach churned. So he had been unfaithful as early as graduate school.
I had always been conservative, wanting to wait until marriage. When I asked Ethan if he thought I was old-fashioned, he had said:
"Baby, how could you think that? If you’re not ready, I’ll respect your choice. You’ll be mine sooner or later."
But that wasn’t respect. He already had countless other options.
I opened a chat labeled “ChloeBaby.”