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Ghosted His Heart, Now He Hates Me

Chapter 2 

Word Count: 1457    |    Released on: Today at 19:52

e Swee

cent lights of the studio hummed, a dull drone against the ringing in my ears. I found an empty chair in a quiet corner and sank in

s real. Each phrase was a fresh wound, tearing at the old scars. My mind, defiant

creen. That's where I found "Ace." It started innocently enough, a late-night match in our favorite online game. My character

yped after I saved him

It was easy to be witty and confident as "Aria." Behind the screen, nobody saw

t coding. I listened to him talk about his dreams of going pro in esports, the pressure from his father, the weight of expectations. We spent countless nights talking, sharing secrets we wouldn't dare tell anyone else. He was the

Aria," he'd whispered one nigh

y, distant shot of him on campus, playing football with friends. He was handsome, athletic, everything I wasn't. I sent him filtered photos, ca

team, a golden boy, surrounded by a crowd of admirers. There was a poster, advertising an upcoming esports tournament, featuring his face prom

on me. How could I face him? How could I explain "Aria"? The lie was too big, the gap between my online persona and my real self too vast. I was nothing like the girl in the filtered photos. I was overweight, awkward, and terrifi

ew open. Maria poked her head in. "Coralie? We're

ck me. This was my job. I had to maintain my professionalism. To refuse would be unprofessional, per

ing various games. The Vanguard team, including Emmett, settled into a la

gers brushed mine briefly. A jolt went through me.

l reeling. When the server arrived, I ordered a salmon salad. "And pleas

ing, fixed on mine. There was a flicker of something in them, a momentary spark of curiosity, or

a small, polite smile. He couldn't possibly remember. It was just a shellfish allergy. Lots of p

me constantly, worried sick. I had been rushed to the emergency room, my throat closing up after accidentally ingesting a dish with hidden shrimp. My old ro

ef palpable even through text. "I was so

washing over me. "I'm fine. Just... need some rest. I'll be offline for a bit." My lie was elaborate, pathetic. I told him I was going on

htly. He took it, his gaze still on my face. I averted my

pine. This was the man who had once loved "Aria." The man I had betrayed. He was so polished now, so successful, so utterly out of my league. My heart ached with a familiar, bitter yearn

d silence, "You've achieved so much. What's

, now devoid of the earlier curiosity, held a cynical glint. He looked direct

nship, surprisingly enough. It's the memory of learning a hard lesson. The lesson that some people will create an entire f

bly. His teammates exchanged nervous glances. Maria looked mortifi

milestone anymore. It was going to be a slow, public execution of everything I used to be-one inte

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Ghosted His Heart, Now He Hates Me
Ghosted His Heart, Now He Hates Me
“Years after ghosting my online boyfriend, I returned to the U.S. as a successful journalist, completely transformed. My first big assignment was a documentary on his world-champion esports team. He was Emmett Burke, the team captain, and he didn't recognize me at all. Instead of recognition, I was met with pure hatred. During our first interview, he publicly called our past relationship a "deception," a lesson that taught him to only trust what's real. The man who once loved my online persona, "Aria," now looked at me with cold contempt. To make matters worse, my social-climbing mother-now his stepmother-had lied to him years ago, painting me as a cruel catfish just to get me out of the way. He believed her, and his bitterness was a constant, painful reminder of the past I couldn't escape. It hurt knowing I'd caused his pain by disappearing, but his utter dismissal of what we had felt like a fresh betrayal every day. I thought there was no hope, that he would hate "Aria" forever. Until one night, he found a box of my old things my mother tried to throw away. Inside was a photo of my old self with "Aria" written on the back, and a medal he had sent me all those years ago.”