Boyfriend Dumped Me for “Heiress” BFF? Your New Girl Calls ME “Boss” Every Day! Chapter 19

Boyfriend Dumped Me for “Heiress” BFF? Your New Girl Calls ME “Boss” Every Day! Chapter 19

My husband cheats like he wants to get caught.

Last month? Plum lipstick in his car. The exact shade that thirsty nurse from his ward wears.

I said nothing.

Just watched him sneak glances at me the whole drive home, practically sweating, waiting for me to lose it.

I didn’t.

Guess that made her feel invincible.

Because this time, the bitch shoved her black stocking under my pillow. Then texted:

[Childhood sweetheart? Cute. You’re washed up. He’s over you. Should’ve heard him moaning in YOUR bed last night.]

I smiled.

Screenshot. Saved.

I used to scream. Smash things. Renovate our bedroom three times over.

Not anymore.

Now I made a PowerPoint.

Every receipt. Every lie. Every hotel.

Thirty-five slides.

I hit publish.

Sweetheart, you love sharing, right?

Let’s share with the whole damn world!

Ethan stood in the bedroom doorway, dangling that black stocking between two fingers.

“Babe, we need to talk about this.”

I’d been up all night building my PowerPoint. My eyes felt like sandpaper.

I closed my laptop.

“Nothing to talk about. Handle it yourself.”

“No.”

He bulldozed right over my glare.

“Last week when you were in Boston, I had that emergency surgery. Gave my keys to someone from the ward to grab

me clean scrubs.”

“Didn’t know it’d be Sophie. Didn’t know she’d pull this sick shit…”

“Babe, you gotta believe me.”

“You done?”

He choked.

I tried to push past him.

“Wait.”

Ethan grabbed my wrist.

“You seriously don’t give a damn anymore?”

Oh, I used to.

Year ago, found lipstick in his car? Smashed every plate from our honeymoon in Italy.

Six months ago, saw their cozy movie date all over Instagram? Cut up every single one of his dress shirts.

Three months ago, caught those thirsty emojis she sent him? Put his TV through the living room window.

I’d gone nuclear so many times.

But we never actually ended it.

Because we were that couple.

Three years old, fought over the same LEGOs in preschool.

Ten years old, he took detention for me when I talked back to Mrs. Henderson.

Seventeen, night before SATs, he climbed up to my bedroom balcony just to whisper:

“Don’t freak out. Wherever you go, I go.”

Twenty-seven years of history wrapped around me like chains.

“Ethan. I’m just… done.”

I tugged at my wrist.

He wouldn’t budge.

“What’s that mean?”

His eyes drilled into mine.

“Let go.”

“No! You’re gonna explain what the hell that means!”

I yanked harder.

Something crashed.

Porcelain exploding across hardwood.

We both froze.

White shards everywhere, catching the light.

That vase.

The one we made junior year on that pottery class trip to Vermont.

Ethan stood behind me at the wheel while everyone whistled and made jokes. We were blushing like idiots, hands pressed together in the wet clay, our palm prints the only design on the white ceramic.

We’d moved apartments three times since then. Had a million fights.

I’d destroyed his gifts. Trashed our furniture.

But never that vase.

It always sat there on the shelf, holding dried lavender.

Now it was gone.

Ethan’s grip went slack.

And I-

I just collapsed.

Straight down onto the broken pieces.

Blood spread instantly, staining the white shards red.

Blurring everything.

All those years. All that stupid hope.

Ethan went ghost-white.

“Oh my God-”

His hands were shaking.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I-”

Blood pooled on the floor.

Funny thing? I didn’t even feel it.

Just my eyes burning.

He scooped me up, wrapped my knees in towels, and drove like hell.

His hands trembled on the wheel the whole way.

Blew through every red light getting to the hospital.

Burst into the ER.

And naturally-naturally-Sophie was on duty.

Ethan’s jaw tightened.

“Get someone else.”

Sophie did this cutesy little shrug.

“No one else is available right now.”

Ethan opened his mouth to argue.

I cut him off and pointed straight at her.

“You. Do it.”

I always knew Sophie was dumb and vicious.

Turns out she was even worse than I thought.

Third time she “accidentally” jabbed those tweezers into my open wound-

Ethan shoved her back hard.

“Do you even know how to treat an injury? Can’t even do basic fucking first aid-how did you pass nursing school?

GET OUT!”

Sophie’s eyes filled with fake tears.

Ethan didn’t even glance at her.

He changed into scrubs and prepped my surgery himself.