He Spent Three Years Hating the Woman He Loved Chapter 02

He Spent Three Years Hating the Woman He Loved Chapter 02

It was a cozy photo of her and Nolan at dinner. She was smiling radiantly, her eyes sparkling.

The caption read: [He treats me so well.]

I stared at that photo for a long time.

Chloe and I had been friends for ten years. I honestly believed I knew her.

On our first day of college, we moved into the dorms together, and she claimed the top bunk. We skipped lectures together to catch movies. When my heart was broken, she stayed up crying with me for three straight nights.

In my junior year, I fell for Julian.

I remember gushing to her about this senior I liked. Her reaction back then—only now did the chilling reality of it hit me.

“What’s his name?” she had asked.

I said, “Julian Vance. He’s a senior in the literature department.”

Chloe’s expression had frozen instantly.

But she recovered quickly, flashing a bright smile.

“That’s great,” she had said. “Go for it.”

I hadn’t thought much of it then. But looking back now, her face at that moment looked exactly like she had just been violently slapped.

I hailed a cab home. The moment I stepped inside, I collapsed onto the couch, entirely drained.

Julian and I had lived together for a year.

This apartment was leased under my name. The rent was $4,800 a month.

Julian would give me $2,000, and I covered the remaining $2,800.

Every month he would tell me, “Renting is just throwing money away. Let’s split it for now, and once we buy our own house, things will be better. Just bear with it a little longer.”

I bore with it for a whole year. But he never brought up buying a house again. And I never asked. I opened the drawer and pulled out my financial ledger. I had kept a strict expense diary since college.

Chloe used to mock me for it, “Why are you so cheap? You even log a single latte.”

I’d always reply, “Old habits of a poor kid.”

I flipped to the pages tracking the past year.

Money spent on Julian:

[In March, his birthday: cake and gift—$4,800.]

[In May, his mother’s birthday: a Tiffany gold bangle—$6,200.]

[In July, his promotion: a bespoke suit—$8,900.]

[In September, his company retreat: a designer athletic set—$2,300.]

The grand total was $22,000.

And what had Julian bought me over the past year?

A single $99 lipstick. It was for my birthday last year, grabbed carelessly from a convenience store counter at the last minute.

The shade didn’t suit my skin tone at all, and I had mentioned it to him.

He had scoffed in annoyance, “Why are you so high-maintenance? Doesn’t Chloe wear this exact shade?!”

I found it odd at the time, but he brushed it off, claiming he’d seen it on Chloe’s feed.

Now it made sense. Why did his mind instantly jump to Chloe?

I slammed the ledger shut.

I opened my phone and pulled up my chat history with Chloe.

Our last conversation was from last week.

Chloe: [Elena, What on earth are you doing??]

Me: [Working overtime.]

Chloe: [Where’s Julian?]

Me: [Out of town on a business trip.]

Chloe: [Oh. Go to bed early then.]

I stared at that word: [Oh.]

I had never paid attention to it before, but every single time Chloe asked about Julian’s whereabouts, she would always end the conversation with a simple, detached “Oh.”

It was as if she was verifying something.

A violent chill crept down my spine.

I picked up Julian’s phone. He never set a password.

I used to think it was because he trusted me blindly. Now I realized the truth: he didn’t need a password because his interactions with Chloe weren’t on regular social media.

I combed through his messages. Nothing. It was as clean as a blank sheet of paper.

Their text history consisted solely of a digital cash transfer during the holidays. Not a single line of conversation.

It was too clean. Clean to the point of abnormality.

Then, I opened his burner Twitter account. He claimed he never used the platform. I clicked on his following list. Twelve accounts in total. Eleven were colleagues from his firm. The twelfth was a strange, private account.

The avatar was a single green leaf, and the handle was [ChasingDreams.]

I clicked into that account. It had only ever posted one tweet, dated three years ago.

The post read: [The one I love has always been you.]

There were no comments, but it had exactly one like.

I clicked on the user who liked it. It was Chloe’s secret burner account.

My entire body went rigid.