When Anthony’s family lost their fortune, I swooped in. To my delight, I managed to capture his handsome heart. We were together for three years. In that time, he grew more and more distant, the look in his eyes tinged with a subtle contempt. I knew he regretted choosing me. But I’m a sucker for a pretty face, and I just couldn’t let go of his. So, for three years, I pretended not to notice. That is, until the night I went to pick him up from another drunken stupor and my eyes landed on a different face. A face so stunningly handsome it sent a jolt through my entire body. I stood there, mouth agape, forgetting to even wipe the tears from my eyes. “What’s… what’s your name?” I stammered. The boy was sweet, his voice soft. “Ethan.” It was 1:27 AM. And I knew, with absolute certainty, that my obsession with Anthony was finally over. 1 It was midnight when a junior from his graduate program brought Anthony home. Woken up yet again, I threw on a robe and leaned against the doorframe, watching the girl’s flushed face. “You should have had someone else help you. That’s a lot for you to handle on your own,” I said, moving to take Anthony from her. He flinched away from my touch. The air thickened with awkwardness. As the girl stumbled through an explanation, my gaze fell to Anthony’s hand. His long, elegant fingers—the same fingers I’d always found so beautiful—were clenched around the strap of her purse, gripping it like a lifeline. My throat felt dry. I watched her soothe him, watched her coax him into my arms. I had a pretty good idea why she was the one to bring him home. The moment I took his weight, the overpowering stench of alcohol hit me, and a wave of nausea rolled in my stomach. Wiping his face, changing his clothes, forcing down the hangover medicine… After it was all done, I sat quietly by the bed, studying Anthony’s sharp, refined features. Fine brows, long eyes, a high-bridged nose, and thin lips. The open collar of his shirt revealed the smooth, strong lines of his porcelain skin. I leaned in close, my lips near his ear. “I love you so much, Anthony,” I whispered. He turned his head away, his brow furrowed in a pained grimace as he mumbled something in his sleep. I strained to hear the name, my cheek almost brushing against his lips. “Lila…” If I remembered correctly, the girl who brought him home was named Lila. A first-year grad student. Very popular, very likable. How close did you have to be for a man as reserved as Anthony to murmur a girl’s first name in his sleep? I refused to think of Anthony as some morally bankrupt cheat. He was one of the few genuinely decent men I’d ever met; it was one of the reasons I’d pursued him so relentlessly. The main reason, of course, was that face—a face that held my entire world captive. I pushed the thought away and lay down beside him. I wanted to kiss his lips, but the smell of liquor was too strong, and I retreated with a sigh. “Good night,” I whispered. A second later, Anthony’s arm wrapped around me, pulling me into his embrace. Just like he had countless nights before, he buried his head in the crook of my neck. I’d been up with him until the early hours, and with work being so hectic lately, my sleep was fragile. The moment Anthony stirred, I was awake. He released me and sat on the edge of the bed with his back to me, silent for a long time. I had no idea what he was thinking. Just as I was about to sit up and ask, his phone rang. The balcony door was open, and I could hear his clear, smooth voice drift back into the room. “Yeah, I just woke up. You? Did you sleep well?” I couldn’t hear the reply, but I heard Anthony’s low chuckle. It had been so long since I’d heard him laugh. For some reason, their ordinary conversation felt like nails on a chalkboard, a sour, indescribable ache tightening in my chest. 2 My boyfriend was having an affair. Not the physical kind, but an emotional one. He was on his phone more often. When we talked, he was either distracted or completely silent. He no longer held me, no longer kissed me. When he looked at me, his eyes were cold. This was Anthony’s signature move. Over the past three years, whenever he felt a pang of regret about being with me, he’d try to freeze me out, to push me away with the silent treatment. But I was just too weak for that beautiful face of his. I clung to him, shamelessly, for three long years. He had been on the verge of giving in, of resigning himself to a life of settling with me. Our families had even started discussing wedding dates. But then Lila appeared. Bright, gentle, and a perfect match for Anthony’s ideal woman. They had endless things to talk about, their own inside jokes and secrets. They were a perfect match, in looks and in spirit. And me? I was shallow and tactless, a constant source of embarrassment for him. I tried to break up with him, to give him what he wanted. But every time I was about to speak, he would look at me with those narrow, almond-shaped eyes, and the words would die in my throat. All I wanted to do was kiss him. The thought of waking up and not seeing that face next to me was enough to make me want to cry. So, as long as he didn't explicitly end it, I chose to live in this pathetic limbo. He’d pull all-nighters with Lila in the lab; I’d send worried messages that went unanswered. He’d leave early in the morning; I’d have his outfit for the day picked out and waiting. He’d go out with colleagues and friends; I’d be the designated driver, waiting to pick him up. Every time his friends would laugh and tease, “Your girlfriend is so thoughtful, man,” the ice in Anthony’s eyes would get a little thicker. He slid into the passenger seat without a word. I smiled and made small talk with his friends for a moment before waving goodbye. Of course, I noticed Lila standing in the corner, her face pale. “It’s getting colder,” I called out before leaving, my voice deliberately cheerful. “Lila, make sure you dress warm so you don’t catch a cold!” Her lips trembled as she mumbled a soft “okay,” and a moment later, she pulled off the dark blue scarf around her neck. It was the scarf I had spent three months knitting for Anthony. When I’d put it on him, he hadn’t even bothered to lower his head, just watched with detached eyes as I stood on my tiptoes, struggling to wrap it around his neck. So how, I wondered, did he wrap my scarf around another girl’s neck? Did he bend down for her? Did he smile? I didn’t dare to imagine it. I didn’t want to. On the drive home, Anthony was silent. Following my principle of “don’t act unless acted upon,” I chattered away like usual, filling the silence with meaningless small talk. He barely responded. Just before we got out of the car, he suddenly leaned in close. His dark hair fell forward, perfectly framing his high-bridged nose, beautifully shaped lips, and clean jawline. His eyelashes fluttered, his gaze drifting down to my lips. The sweet scent of liquor filled the confined space. I held my breath, my heartbeat thundering in my ears. It had been so long since we’d kissed. For the first time, I closed my eyes in anticipation. I never used to close my eyes. I never wanted to miss a second of looking at him. But the next words out of his mouth sent a chill through my entire body. “Lila…” He did it on purpose. My heart stuttered, a dull, delayed ache spreading through my chest. I turned my head away, pushing him back. “You’re drunk.” When Anthony got home, he found clean clothes and a glass of hangover soup waiting for him, just like always. I lay in bed, feigning sleep, lacking any of the courage or resolve to confront him. As I drifted off, I thought I heard him mutter through gritted teeth, “Hira, you’re really something else. How can you be so damn pathetic?” Don’t let his prim and proper appearance fool you. When Anthony gets angry, he can be much, much crueler. I was used to it. I fell asleep quickly. 3 Anthony’s indifference became blatant. He started disappearing, ignoring my calls and messages completely. Not being able to see his face made me anxious, like an addict in withdrawal. Finally, I saw him on a mutual friend’s social media story. He was at a quiet lounge, sitting with Lila, their heads bent together in conversation. I expertly cropped Lila out of the picture and saved it. I got the address from my friend and took a cab straight there. Anthony’s face soured the moment I walked in. Lila looked visibly uncomfortable, only calming down after he gave her a reassuring glance. “Hira! Good to see you! Come have a drink!” “Yeah, it’s been a while! We were starting to get used to you not keeping tabs on Anthony anymore.” Everyone laughed. I ignored Anthony’s glare and quickly joined the group, letting them pull me into their circle. Before long, I’d been pressured into drinking far too much and was feeling dizzy. I sat down in the spot they’d made for me, about to lean my head on Anthony’s shoulder to steady myself, when he abruptly stood up. He was tall, and the sudden movement drew everyone’s attention. “Ethan,” he said, his voice flat. “Switch seats with me.” A stunned silence fell over the table. All eyes darted between Anthony and me. “Dude, what are you doing? That’s so harsh,” a friend muttered, trying to intervene. I pressed my fingers to my temples, shocked at the sheer venom in his actions. He was so desperate to not be near me that he’d give up a seat next to Lila. “It’s fine…” I tried to smooth things over, but Anthony cut me off before I could finish. He shot me a sidelong glance, his tone dripping with contempt. “Don’t worry. She’s got thick skin. She can talk to anyone. Besides, she knows her way around a place like this.” Very few people knew that after high school, I’d worked in a hotel bar for six months to save up for college tuition. I’d survived that toxic environment, nearly being assaulted more than once. I had told Anthony about it during one of my most vulnerable moments. He had held me tight, stroking my back and comforting me. Now, he was using it as a weapon against me. I looked up at him in disbelief. For a split second, I saw a flash of surprise, then a flicker of regret in his eyes before he quickly looked away. No apology. Anthony never apologized. I was just so tired. I didn’t argue, didn’t yell. My heart just ached, a dull, heavy throb, like it was being struck with a blunt axe. A boy sat down next to me. He was wearing a light blue plaid shirt and had been quietly passing me tissues and hot water. Halfway through the night, Lila suddenly clutched her stomach, complaining of pain. Anthony was the first to react. Ignoring everyone, he scooped her up into his arms and rushed out of the bar. None of us, myself included, had ever seen him so frantic. “Wow, I always thought Anthony only showed actual human emotion when he was with Hira. Guess he really cares about his little junior, huh?” someone remarked, then trailed off, realizing I was still sitting right there. He quickly tried to backtrack. He glanced at me nervously. “It’s okay. Lila’s not very strong. Anthony has always worried about her,” I said, my eyes crinkling into a smile, though my voice was laced with a bitterness I couldn’t hide. “Still, that’s going too far, isn’t it? His girlfriend is right here…” someone else whispered. I took a sip of my drink, and my head throbbed even harder. The person next to me handed me another tissue and swapped my glass for a cup of hot water. Only then did I realize I was crying. “Haha, how embarrassing. For someone to see me like this.” Tears blurred my vision, but through the haze, my eyes landed on that stunningly handsome face. A jolt went through me, so powerful it cleared my head. My jaw dropped, and I forgot to even wipe the tears from my face. “What’s… what’s your name?” I stammered. The boy was sweet, his voice soft. “Ethan.”
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