Chapter 4

The elevator doors slowly closed.

I looked down at my phone screen, his threat pricking my eyes like needles.

For three years, he had always been a decent boyfriend.

It was only when Scarlett was involved that every argument between us felt like he became a different person.

I remembered last week, he waited in line for half an hour to buy the drink I wanted.

Just as he handed it to me, Scarlett appeared.

She stopped us, pouting petulantly: "I want one too, Ethan. You promised you'd only ever buy drinks for one woman – me."

Without a word, he took the cup from my hand, inserted the straw, and handed it to her.

I looked at my empty hand, but he casually put his arm around me: "It's just a coffee, give it to her, or she'll make a scene again."

In our second year of dating, I took him home for the first time.

My parents prepared for three days, cooking a table full of his favorite dishes.

Halfway to my place, Scarlett called, saying her car had been in an accident.

He turned the car around and left.

I was left alone with a table full of cold food and my parents' awkward silence.

Later, he coaxed me: "She's never handled these things before, don't be mad. I'll make it up to your parents another day."

When that "another day" came, he was having dinner with my parents.

His phone rang, an unknown number.

He stood up to answer it, speaking into the screen with extreme impatience: "Scarlett, are you done yet? What is it now?"

My mom's hand, holding a dish, froze in mid-air, and my dad put down his wine glass.

After he hung up, I quietly reminded him that it wasn't very polite.

He frowned, stating matter-of-factly: "If I don't answer, she won't stop. Your family won't mind this."

Our biggest argument erupted when I had acute appendicitis.

I was about to go into surgery, when Scarlett called, drunkenly screaming, "If you don't come in ten minutes, I'm ordering three male escorts."

He hesitated for three seconds, then chose her.

When I woke up, he was standing by my hospital bed, looking exhausted, with blood marks from her scratches still on his neck.

He explained: "She was drunk, I was afraid she'd do something she'd regret."

"You're fine now, aren't you? I'll take time off to take care of you for the next few days."

They say a good ex should be like they're dead.

But his ex was everywhere.

Like air, like a virus.

Every time, he'd say dismissively: "I'm annoyed too, what can I do?"

Making me feel like I was the petty, unreasonable villain.

The elevator descended, the numbers constantly changing.

I sent Ethan one last message.

[Okay, let's break up.]