He Spent Three Years Hating the Woman He Loved Chapter 01

He Spent Three Years Hating the Woman He Loved Chapter 01

My boyfriend had been trashing my best friend, Chloe, for three whole years.

He complained that she talked too loud, posted too many selfies, and never looked at the price when ordering food.

Every time the three of us hung out, he’d sneer the moment she left, “Stop inviting her. She’s annoying.”

I genuinely thought he hated her.

So, when Chloe finally entered a relationship, I was the first to share the good news with him, “She’s taken. She won’t be playing third wheel anymore.”

Instead of being relieved, he looked displeased.

“Who is it?” he demanded. “That tech guy on her feed? The one who works overtime every single day? Can a guy like that even keep her company?”

A week later, Chloe brought her new boyfriend, Nolan, to dinner. Throughout the night, Nolan was incredibly attentive—cutting her meat, pouring her water, and gently wiping the corner of her mouth.

My boyfriend’s face was pitch black the entire time.

On our way back, I casually remarked, “Nolan seems nice. He’s very attentive.”

Julian stopped dead in his tracks.

“He’s just putting on a show,” Julian said. “Chloe gets touched too easily. She shouldn’t be with someone like him. She deserves someone who truly understands her.”

“Someone who knows she’s afraid of the dark, knows she hates olives, and knows that when she’s hurting, she’ll just smile and say she’s fine.”

His voice grew softer, trembling slightly at the end.

Under the dim glow of the streetlight, I noticed his eyelashes were damp.

A single tear rolled down the bridge of his nose.

He had insulted her for three years.

It wasn’t disgust. It was a pathetic, hidden obsession.

I turned around and began walking in the opposite direction.

“Go to her,” I said, my voice deadpan. “Stop taking the long way around.”

…

Under the streetlamp, Julian’s tear hit his own collar, bleeding into a tiny, dark circle on the fabric.

I stared at that tear.

Suddenly, the last three years of our relationship felt like a long, cold, twisted joke.

I kept walking.

“Go find her,” I repeated. “Don’t waste any more time.”

I didn’t look back.

I crossed the street, heading toward the intersection.

Behind me, Julian’s footsteps followed, half a beat slow.

“Elena.”

I didn’t stop.

“Elena, wait up!”

I kept walking.

“I said stop right now!” His voice suddenly flared with rage.

I halted and turned around.

He stood under the light, his eyes glistened red and strained, that single tear still hanging from his chin.

For the first time in three years, he looked genuinely panicked. “Elena, what I just said… don’t overthink it.”

I smiled.

“I’m not overthinking,” I said. “I just heard you perfectly clear.”

His mouth fell open, but no words came out.

I looked him dead in the eye. “Julian, the fact that Chloe is afraid of the dark… how exactly do you know that?”

He gritted his teeth, lowering his gaze. “I…”

“You what?”

“I heard her mention it before. In the past.”

“How far in the past?”

He went silent.

“Julian,” I stared at him, my voice dropping an octave. “You and Chloe… turned out you two go way deeper than I thought, huh?”

The entire street went dead silent, like an absolute graveyard. A stray plastic bag rustled across the asphalt in the wind.

Julian’s face drained of color instantly. He stood there, mouth agape, unable to utter a single syllable.

Looking at his pathetic expression, everything clicked.

I didn’t wait for an admission of guilt. I turned around and walked away.As I reached the intersection, I pulled out my phone.

Chloe’s latest Instagram update was from an hour ago.