The Ex-Factor: A Dish Best Served

The Ex-Factor: A Dish Best Served

Gavin

5.0
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The steak knife in my hand felt heavy. For five years, I' d been Chloe' s boyfriend, paying for dinners like this, writing her college papers, driving hours just to see her. I thought it was devotion, love. Tonight, sitting across from her, watching her giggle and feed asparagus to her ex, Chad, it just made my stomach clench. She wasn' t even looking at me; she was looking at him. His ex-girlfriend, Lily, sitting beside him, coolly observed the scene, her calm piercing my humiliation. Then Chloe' s hand, the one not holding the fork, slid across the table and landed on Chad' s forearm, tracing a slow circle. "Something wrong, Mark?" Chloe asked, her voice laced with annoyance when I finally put my knife and fork down. Nothing was wrong. Just a hot shame crawling up my neck, realizing I' d been a fool. "To old friends," I said, raising my glass, my voice tight. "It' s great to see you two so... close." Chloe pulled her hand back, nervously laughing it off, trying to erase the moment with a familiar gesture that screamed she was lying. Chad, on the other hand, reveled in the tension, casually inviting us to his launch party. "Mark, you'll be there, right? Chad's parties are legendary," she chirped, then her eyes raked over me. "Just... try to wear something nice. Not one of your nerdy t-shirts. You need to make a good impression for Chad." The casual flick of her wrist, a public dismissal of my entire existence. A highlight reel of five years of sacrifice, of being a placeholder, of believing her excuses, flashed in my mind. The woman I loved was sleeping with her ex-boyfriend, and I was the "good boyfriend," the convenient option. My throat felt tight. The words wouldn't come, but a cold clarity settled over me. This wasn't a relationship; it was a long, slow humiliation. I was done.

Introduction

The steak knife in my hand felt heavy.

For five years, I' d been Chloe' s boyfriend, paying for dinners like this, writing her college papers, driving hours just to see her.

I thought it was devotion, love.

Tonight, sitting across from her, watching her giggle and feed asparagus to her ex, Chad, it just made my stomach clench.

She wasn' t even looking at me; she was looking at him.

His ex-girlfriend, Lily, sitting beside him, coolly observed the scene, her calm piercing my humiliation.

Then Chloe' s hand, the one not holding the fork, slid across the table and landed on Chad' s forearm, tracing a slow circle.

"Something wrong, Mark?" Chloe asked, her voice laced with annoyance when I finally put my knife and fork down.

Nothing was wrong.

Just a hot shame crawling up my neck, realizing I' d been a fool.

"To old friends," I said, raising my glass, my voice tight. "It' s great to see you two so... close."

Chloe pulled her hand back, nervously laughing it off, trying to erase the moment with a familiar gesture that screamed she was lying.

Chad, on the other hand, reveled in the tension, casually inviting us to his launch party.

"Mark, you'll be there, right? Chad's parties are legendary," she chirped, then her eyes raked over me. "Just... try to wear something nice. Not one of your nerdy t-shirts. You need to make a good impression for Chad."

The casual flick of her wrist, a public dismissal of my entire existence.

A highlight reel of five years of sacrifice, of being a placeholder, of believing her excuses, flashed in my mind.

The woman I loved was sleeping with her ex-boyfriend, and I was the "good boyfriend," the convenient option.

My throat felt tight.

The words wouldn't come, but a cold clarity settled over me.

This wasn't a relationship; it was a long, slow humiliation.

I was done.

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