My boss chewed me out today. I worked late and dragged my exhausted body back to the home I share with Ethan. As soon as I opened the door, Ethan, sitting perfectly upright at his desk, didn't even flinch. "Change your slippers. Take a shower." I took a deep breath. Maybe it was the residual anger from my boss, maybe it was exhaustion, but I just snapped. Tears welled up, and instead of changing my slippers, I threw my bag on the floor and sprawled out on the sofa, shoes and all. "Ethan, let's break up." He didn't even look up. "Looks like I'm throwing away the sofa cover tomorrow. And mopping the floor." I gritted my teeth and enunciated every syllable. "Ethan. Let's. Break. Up." This was the sixth time in six months I'd brought it up. I admit I liked Ethan, and I didn't want to leave him, but I was at my limit. It wasn't just that he was a neat freak. It was that he was a neat freak about me. We'd been together for a year. Hand-holding happened exactly once. Kissing, hugging—all the normal couple stuff—non-existent. Why? Because Ethan is obsessed with cleanliness. Shaking hands with a friend means scrubbing his hands three times when he gets home. Even worse, we've lived together for two months, sleeping in separate rooms. I'm banned from his bedroom. The first thing I have to do when I get home is change slippers and shower. Even using the toilet requires a pre-wash with disinfectant and a post-wash scrub down. One time I got lazy and just flushed. Ethan replaced the entire toilet the next day. What a tragic life. What a tragic me. I knew with crystal clarity: Ethan didn't love me. I wasn't special to him, and I never would be. Ethan finally looked up. His eyes, usually so captivating, just glanced at me. I couldn't read his emotions, only an eerie calm. "You sure?" My heart stuttered. He asked the same thing last time. Back then, I caved like a spineless jellyfish. How could you just let go of someone you like? But this time, no more compromises. If you don't love me, why accept my confession? If you don't want to touch me, why agree to live together? I didn't want to live another second of this life. Being with Ethan felt like living with a stranger, walking on eggshells for a whole year. I wanted to come home and do nothing, just lie on the sofa and scroll through TikTok, not change slippers, shower, and constantly worry about contaminating his sanctuary. I wiped my tears and sat up. "I'm sure." "I'll pack my things and move out." Ethan frowned, giving me a deep look, but ultimately didn't ask me to stay. "Okay. Do you need me to call you an Uber?" I clutched my chest, taking a deep breath, chanting internally, Don't get mad, don't argue with idiots... I stormed into my room, packed my bags, and was ready to leave in a huff. But at the door, the more I thought about it, the more unreconciled I felt. Why was I the only one suffering while he remained unmoved? No way. He needs to suffer too. I can't be the only one in pain. I dropped my suitcase and marched aggressively toward Ethan at his desk. He looked genuinely confused for once. "Sarah, what are you doing?" I didn't explain. I just went for it. I grabbed his collar and kissed him. Then, out of spite, I bit his lip. Hard. And just to really drive the point home, I ran my hands all over his chest. Before he could react, I grabbed my suitcase and bolted. Behind me, I heard Ethan roar, "Sarah! Have you lost your mind?!" That was our first kiss. And our last. 1 News of my breakup with Ethan spread fast. After moving out, I met with a manager who had tried to poach me before. It was a multinational corporation. We negotiated salary and benefits, and I booked a flight out of this heartbreaking city without hesitation. Within a week at the new job, my past performance record earned me a spot in an overseas training program. I admit, I was running away. I didn't want to see Ethan because I was afraid I'd cave again. Sitting on the plane, looking at the few non-intimate photos I had with Ethan, tears streamed down my face again. I deleted them all. Ethan, I'll make you regret not cherishing me! Crying, I worried about ruining my expensive makeup, so I pulled out a mirror and dabbed at my tears... Six months later, I returned to the company, working hard for the boss. Gradually... the ache for Ethan faded. Time heals, or whatever. I was making coffee, bored, when footsteps approached. I didn't turn around, but a man's voice said, "Sarah, still working late?" I turned to see Liam, a new colleague in our department. He worked just as hard as I did. When he first started, I teased him, "Did you get dumped too?" He replied, "Yeah." Shared misery builds bonds fast. We became closer than bros. I sipped my coffee. "Isn't it obvious?" Liam laughed. "Careful you don't go bald from stress." I rolled my eyes. "Shut up." Liam paused, then said, "Do me a favor tomorrow night?" "Nope." Ding. Venmo notification: Liam sent you $800. I accepted it immediately and looked up. "I take it back. What's the favor? Mountain of knives, sea of fire, consider it done." Liam smirked. "Be my fake girlfriend." I shamelessly countered, "Add another hundred." Liam twitched his lips. "Deal." The next night, I wore a killer red dress with a cinched waist and followed Liam into the party venue. I might not be a supermodel, but I'm definitely above average. Liam wouldn't lose face. Liam greeted his friends enthusiastically, introducing me. Adhering to professional ethics, I held his arm, acting intimate. As the crowd thinned, my peripheral vision caught something, and my smile froze. Not because of anything else, but because I saw a figure I'd recognize even if he turned to ash. A figure I'd spent two years running from but never forgot. My eyes followed the man as he walked over, step by step. Ethan. Liam perked up when he saw Ethan. "Dr. Sterling! You finally made it. We've been waiting for you." "This is my girlfriend, Sarah." I twitched a smile awkwardly. Ethan's gaze stayed fixed on me. Then I heard his deep voice. "Sa-rah? Your girlfriend?" The air temperature seemed to drop ten degrees. Probably just me. I swallowed. Sarah! What are you afraid of? You broke up! You have nothing to do with him! After a mental pep talk, I adjusted my posture, smiled, and extended my hand. "Hello, Dr. Sterling." Ethan held his wine glass, making no move to shake my hand. I knew he wouldn't. The severe germaphobe who washes his hands three times after a handshake wouldn't touch his detestable ex. I still remember the shock on his face after I forced myself on him two years ago. His pristine white shirt rumpled, a bead of blood on his lip. Like a defiled saint. Thinking about it still gave me a thrill. Seeing Ethan stare at me without moving, Liam tried to pull my hand back to save the awkwardness. But the next second, Ethan reached out and grasped my hand. "Hello, Sarah." I almost expected him to say, Long time no see, you awful ex. More shocking was that he actually shook my hand! Did he reform in the last two years? I laughed nervously and quickly pulled my hand back, grabbing Liam's arm again. Liam laughed. "Didn't expect the germaphobe Dr. Sterling to initiate a handshake. Big changes in a year. You almost look like a normal person..." Realizing that might have been rude, Liam quickly added, "No, no, I didn't mean it like that, haha." Ethan didn't seem to care, didn't even look at him. He stared at me and said, "It's fine. You're right." Me: "Hehe... heh..." I don't believe you. Ethan walked away after a few words. My curiosity was piqued. When we were alone, I whispered to Liam, "How do you know this Dr. Sterling? You never mentioned him." Liam said, "Oh, a year ago I got into a car accident near his hospital. Ended up in the ER. He was disgusted by me because my wound had grease, my clothes had sand, and I was sweaty. I'm telling you, I could have woken up from a coma just from sheer anger." "Later I found out he's a severe germaphobe. Thought it was interesting, so I worked hard to befriend him." I almost laughed out loud. "Then why did he come all this way for your party? Isn't he busy?" Liam looked at me intently. "How do you know he's busy?" I stumbled, then recovered. "Aren't doctors always like that? Emergencies anytime." Speaking of which, I remembered the bitterness. After confessing to Ethan and getting together, he was always busy. So busy we barely spoke some days. Most of the time, I just curled up on the sofa watching TV alone. A boyfriend in name only. And I stuck with it for a year. I admire my past self. Liam didn't seem suspicious. "True. But he's here on business for a few days. Heard it's about a transfer. The provincial hospital invited him several times, but I guess he won't come." My heart skipped a beat. Transfer? Here? This would kill me. I ran away just to escape the city that held memories of him. Now he might move here? But if he refused several times, maybe it's unlikely. Relieved, I listened as Liam leaned in mysteriously. "Why? You interested?" I rolled my eyes. "Would you be interested in a crazy person?" Liam thought about it. "Yeah. Probably only someone with similar issues would like Ethan." Me: "?" I feel attacked. Liam got pulled away to drink, and I didn't fit in. I drank too much and needed the restroom. Just outside the hall, I saw a back leaning against the railing. Suit and tie, but in my eyes, I saw him in a white coat, saving lives while complaining about patients being dirty. I couldn't help but chuckle. Then I tried to sneak away. I didn't know how to face him. But two steps later, a familiar voice called out, "Sarah, where are you running to this time?" Of course. When it rains, it pours. I took a deep breath and turned around calmly. "Oh, Dr. Sterling. We're not that close, are we? Where I go is none of your business." Ethan squinted and walked towards me aggressively. I felt the pressure. "Not close? Can't I care about my ex-girlfriend?" Care. A word I never thought I'd hear from Ethan. I thought he never cared about anyone. I forced an awkward smile. "Dr. Sterling, you seem to forget, we broke up." Ethan is tall, a head and a half taller than me. Looking straight ahead, I stared at his chest. Seeing his chest reminded me of that night two years ago. Same suit, white shirt, perfectly tied tie. Ascetic vibes. My inner voice screamed: Sarah! I knew you weren't crazy, you just lusted after his body! "You're Liam's girlfriend?" I was stunned. He asked such a dumb question after introductions? "Yes." "Break up with him. Don't see him again." I looked up in surprise. Those peach blossom eyes weren't calm anymore. They held anger, maybe even jealousy. I got mad. "Are you sick? Get treatment if you are." I turned to leave, not wanting to engage. The next second, Ethan grabbed my wrist and yanked me into his arms. His low voice rang in my ear. "Sarah, two years later, you've really got some nerve." Then, he kissed my earlobe and bit it lightly. My brain exploded. Ethan is definitely sick today. Hugging me? Kissing me? "Ethan! Let go! What does this mean? I'll sue you for harassment!" 2 My forehead vein throbbed. I coughed. "I told you I have a boyfriend." Ethan laughed suddenly. "Boyfriend? Liam already confessed. Said you scammed him out of a thousand dollars." Me: "..." Another familiar voice called out, "Sarah..." Liam walked out, closing the door behind him. "You know each other, don't you?" Can't hide it now. Have to admit it. "Yeah, he's my... uh, somewhat abnormal ex-boyfriend." I thought Liam would ask for gossip, but he looked at Ethan with hostility. "He was harassing you?" I nodded vigorously. Ethan squinted, looking pissed. Liam pulled me over and said to Ethan, "I consider you a friend, Ethan, but since you didn't keep Sarah two years ago, why harass her now?" Very logical. But when I looked up and saw the loss flash in Ethan's eyes, my heart clenched involuntarily. Then, Liam dragged me away right in front of Ethan. We didn't go back to the party; he took me straight to his car. I was spaced out the whole way until Liam called my name. "Sarah, do you still like Ethan?" IneXplicably, I heard caution in his voice. I paused, staying silent. I couldn't answer. The car was quiet. Finally, I heard a bitter laugh from Liam. He feigned lightness. "I get it. By the way, thanks for playing my girlfriend today. Can't scam me anymore though. I'll take you home." I'm not a naive girl; I know what Liam's subtle feelings meant. So I said, "I'm sorry." "Don't trouble yourself. I'll take an Uber." My tone was polite and distant. Liam watched me get out of the passenger seat but didn't stop me. The car sat there for a minute before driving away. I Ubered home and sat on the sofa in a daze. Two years. I thought I had moved on. But seeing Ethan again, the walls I built crumbled instantly. Fragile beyond imagination. The more I thought, the sadder I got. I turned grief into appetite and ordered BBQ and fried chicken. I only drank at the party, so I was starving. Result? I ate myself into the hospital in the middle of the night. Gastritis. I realized that living alone for two years was comfortable. Coming home to do nothing, lying on the sofa, eating takeout, drinking soda. It took a toll on my stomach. Dazed, I remembered the year with Ethan. Even though he demanded perfection from me, he also knocked on my door every day to wake me up for food. Meals he cooked himself. Even if he critiqued me every time—Dropped rice, use serving spoons, don't spill soup. His cleanliness was always the sharpest trait, overshadowing everything else. Just my luck, I ended up in the provincial hospital. Just my luck, I saw Ethan's familiar face. It was the first time I saw him look panicked. A group of doctors followed him. Then he wheeled me away. I became his patient. I endured the stomach pain and asked, "You're not a doctor here, why do you care?" Ethan said calmly, "I will be." My heart died. I didn't speak again. Ethan wiped my mouth with his gloved hand. I felt dread. Sure enough, he raised an eyebrow. "Fried chicken? Or BBQ?" "Shut up." A nurse comforted me. "Don't worry. Might need a gastroscopy. Tube down the throat or general anesthesia? Anesthesia requires a family member's signature." I panicked. I fear nothing but needles and surgeries. The thought of a tube down my throat terrified me. "Anesthesia. I want anesthesia." The nurse nodded. "Okay, where's your family?" I suddenly remembered. I'm an orphan. My parents died in a car crash my senior year of high school. Where would I find family? Ethan looked at me, then told the nurse, "Get the consent form. I'm her family. I'll sign." I looked at Ethan weirdly, but the pain made speaking impossible. One shot and I was out. When I woke up, I was in a ward with a nurse checking my IV. I swallowed dryly. "Nurse, where's Dr. Sterling?" It was the same nurse. She looked down at me. "Dr. Sterling went back to his hospital. He starts here in two days." I was dizzy. "He agreed to transfer?" The nurse tried not to laugh. "Yeah. His family is here, of course he transferred." I twitched my lips. "I'm not his family." The nurse looked skeptical. "But last night..." Me: "Can you expect a crazy person to say normal things?" Nurse: "..." Once the anesthesia wore off, I realized I had work. I fumbled for my phone. 10:30 AM. I collapsed back, unlocking my phone to explain to my manager. Ding, ding, ding. Messages flooded in. From my manager, sent at 9 AM: "Old Sarah, when did you get married?" "Hid it well." "Since you're sick, take the week off. Report back next week on time or say goodbye to your bonus." I scrolled up. Last night, someone used my phone to make dozens of calls. The last one connected for two minutes. I could guess who did it with my toes. And I could guess what Ethan said. That afternoon, I grabbed my meds and snuck home, vowing to eat healthy. I planned it all out, then immediately failed, curling up on the sofa with takeout porridge and dramas. Bored, I scrolled through my phone. Someone left the work group chat. It was Liam. Then a text from him: I'm leaving, Sarah. Hope you and Dr. Sterling find happiness. 3 I sighed. Lost a good friend. But thinking about it, I really felt nothing for Liam. Even holding hands, it was calm. Compared to Ethan... I angrily thought about moving again. Move abroad. Never see Ethan again. I sent Liam a "Good luck," but it failed to send. Red exclamation mark. One year of friendship, gone in an instant. I wondered if I could be like Liam, leaving without looking back. A notification sound brought me back. A familiar avatar—white coat, syringe in hand—sent a message. "Open the door." I remembered blocking Ethan on everything two years ago. How did he pop up again? Must have unblocked himself last night. Angry, I sent a question mark. Ethan replied: "Open the door, Sarah." Just four words, and I couldn't even type a refusal. Before, Ethan either didn't use my name or used my full name. First time calling me just "Sarah." I remembered him holding me last night, whispering angrily, "Sarah, two years later, you've really got some nerve." More messages. "I brought a lot of stuff." "I saved your life last night." "You wouldn't be so heartless, right?" Guilt trip! Absolute guilt trip! Being grateful, I opened the door. He was holding a bag of groceries and a black plastic bag. That was it. I crossed my arms. "This is 'a lot of stuff'?" Ethan didn't speak, just stared behind me. I looked back and blushed. My apartment was a disaster zone. A pigsty compared to Ethan's place. I suppressed my shame and glared. "What are you looking at? Oh, I forgot, Dr. Sterling is a neat freak. You probably don't want to come in. Bye." I tried to close the door, but Ethan's nice hand blocked it. His tone was surprisingly soft. "It's fine. Acceptable." Sounded forced. Ethan pulled a pair of men's slippers from the black bag, put them on, and walked in, closing the door himself. I muttered, "Ethan, did you actually become normal in two years?" Ethan ignored me, found the kitchen, and washed his hands three times. I realized I asked a pointless question. "Sarah, I thought you'd be living well after leaving me. Doesn't look like it." I sat on the sofa. "You came here to insult me?" Ethan dried his hands and walked over. "No. You forgot what I said yesterday. I said, let's get back together." Thinking of our year together, I felt bitter. "Ethan, do you know what you're saying?" "Do you think I'm still the girl who loved you enough to tolerate being treated like a stranger for a year?" Silence. Then Ethan suddenly said, "But, you molested me when you ran away. You have to take responsibility." The heavy atmosphere shattered. I found it childishly funny. Just a bite and a grope? Seriously? Still holding a grudge? I turned my head away. Ethan walked over, forced my face back to look at him. "Sarah, I'm sorry." He said it seriously, reverently. "You were my first girlfriend. When you confessed, I didn't refuse because I didn't dislike you. I hadn't been close to anyone growing up. I didn't touch you because... partly, I didn't know what to do. I never initiated closeness." "The other part... we weren't married." Damn. Hand-holding, hugging, kissing required marriage? Ethan looked into my eyes and smiled. "Sarah, remember the first time you held my hand?" Memories flooded back. I remember. I'll remember until I die. A year after graduating, I met Ethan, chased him for ages, and finally confessed with flowers, terrified of rejection. He said yes. I was so happy, I carefully reached for his hand. Before I could even warm it, he pulled away and asked, "Did... did you wash your hands?" I wanted to die. Maybe my passion was pricked by his avoidance. I felt rejected, head down. Now that I think about it, he stuttered. "Actually, if you looked up, you'd see I was blushing. I wasn't disgusted, I was panicked. I used habitual phrases to hide it." "Later I thought, if you initiated one more time, maybe I really couldn't refuse." I was stunned, blushing slightly. "Why tell me this now? It's ancient history." Ethan let go of my face, casually saying, "If you don't want to hear it, fine. But I was wrong before. Now it's my turn to initiate." I sat frozen on the sofa, savoring his words. It felt like bitter turning to sweet. I never expected to hear this from Ethan. So I asked, "Why the sudden change?" Ethan stared at me with dark eyes. "After you molested me." Me: "..." Proof that a leopard can't change its spots: I watched Ethan, brow furrowed, put on gloves and clean my house until it sparkled. Then he cooked, just like when we lived together. I always knew Ethan was diligent. Maybe his neat freak nature wouldn't allow a mess. He was frighteningly disciplined. I was the messy, undisciplined one. I cried internally, then walked over to the table full of delicious food. Just as I picked up my chopsticks, a glass of warm water and four pills appeared by my hand. Ethan frowned. "Take your medicine before eating." My heart thumped. I took the pills. I watched his face while eating, afraid he'd say Dropped rice, use serving spoons... But he didn't. Just ate silently. I believed Ethan had really changed. At least toward me. Halfway through, Ethan said, "Stop eating takeout. Bad for your stomach." I hummed a long note, holding back a smile. "But I can't cook."
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