His GPS Always Navigated To My Best Friend’s Apartment Chapter 01

His GPS Always Navigated To My Best Friend’s Apartment Chapter 01

For the hundred and first time, my boyfriend’s GPS automatically blared out the directions to my best friend’s apartment.

“Ugh, this piece of junk navigation system is glitching and pulling up the wrong saved address again,” Ethan muttered, shaking his head. “Well, since it’s on the way, let’s just pick up Chloe and hit that trendy restaurant together.”

I stared at the pink throw pillow nestled in the passenger seat—an item she had claimed as her own—and said nothing.

Ever since they became self-proclaimed “foodie buddies” three months ago, my dates had turned into a crowded three-person affair.

On Valentine’s Day, I had booked a cozy table for two. He insisted on dragging Chloe along to squeeze in with us, casually claiming that making room for one more person was no big deal.

He had even had the audacity to give Chloe the front-row concert tickets I had spent weeks trying to snag.

“Why do you have to be so petty? Chloe’s a die-hard fan, she belongs in the front row. Can’t you just grab a nosebleed seat outside and just enjoy the echo?”

Watching him smoothly pull up the car right outside Chloe’s building, I unbuckled my seatbelt and stepped out without a second thought.

“Where the hell are you going? Don’t make a scene in the middle of the night!” he yelled, throwing me a harsh frown.

I walked toward the subway station without looking back.

From now on, she could have that passenger seat all to herself.

…

“Are you ever going to drop the attitude?”

On the other end of the line, Ethan’s voice dripped with impatience.

I stared at my reflection in the subway glass doors, my face completely expressionless.

“I wasn’t feeling well, so I went home.”

“Not feeling well? You were perfectly fine in the car a minute ago,” he sneered, his tone absolute. “Are you throwing another tantrum over Chloe?”

“How many times do I have to explain this to you? She just went through a bad breakup. It’s easy for her to spiral when she’s stuck at home alone. What’s wrong with us taking her out as friends to clear her head?”

“Why did you jump out of the car like that? Walking off with a sour face like a child—do you have any idea how embarrassing you are?”

The sound of a car door slamming shut echoed through the speaker.

“Ethan, is Rachel mad at me? Maybe I should just head back. I don’t want to be the reason you two fight.”

“Just ignore her. She’s just stressed out from work lately and acting overly dramatic again.”

“Come on, let’s go get that premium Wagyu steak.” Ethan’s voice turned cold again as he addressed me. “I’m taking Chloe to the steakhouse now. If you know what’s good for you, call a cab and get over here yourself.”

“But if you’re determined to ruin the mood tonight, then stay home and starve by yourself!”

The subway train roared into the station right on cue, the rushing wind whipping my hair across my face.

My phone screen lit up with an iMessage from Ethan.

[Whatever. We’ll talk when you’ve calmed down.]

If this had happened three months ago, those words would have reduced me to tears right here on the subway platform. I would have spent the ride home overthinking, wondering if I really was being too petty, terrified that he was genuinely angry with me.

Then, I would have hailed a cab to the restaurant and swallowed my pride just to apologize to them.

But now? Forget it.

I unlocked the front door and stepped into the apartment. The entryway was cluttered with several pairs of new slippers.

Last month, Chloe had stayed over, claiming she was terrified of thunder. Ethan had gone downstairs immediately to buy her every style available.

I walked over, bent down, scooped up those slippers, and threw them straight into a black trash bag by the door.

In reality, the excuse they used to become “foodie buddies” in the first place had started over nothing more than a spread of Tex-Mex food.

My stomach was sensitive; I couldn’t handle heavy oils or intense spice.

In the past, Ethan would gently sit by my side, keeping me company with a bowl of plain, clear broth, playfully tapping my nose and teasing that I ate like a nun.

That was until three months ago, when Chloe came over as a guest and demanded a batch of fiery, extra-spicy Buffalo wings.

That evening, I watched as Ethan expertly shredded the meat off the bones, putting the juiciest pieces into Chloe’s basket. They shared a knowing smile and clinked their ice-cold beers together.

“Rachel, look at your weak stomach. You can’t even handle a single drop of hot sauce. It breaks my heart to watch you suffer,” Ethan had said.

“From now on, whenever I crave something spicy, I’ll just have Chloe tag along.”

“With her acting as my foodie buddy, I won’t have to watch you force yourself to suffer just to prove you love me, okay?”

Right around that memory, Chloe updated her Instagram Story.

The video showed thick slices of beef sizzling in a rich, boiling hot pot. Half of Ethan’s forearm was visible in the frame, and on his wrist was the luxury watch that had cost me six months of savings to buy for him.

He was eagerly holding a strainer, scooping the freshly cooked meat directly onto her plate.

[Since someone chose not to eat, we’re having double portions! Shoutout to the absolute best foodie buddy for feeding me!]

The heart that had once burned so passionately for him finally turned stone-cold in that exact moment.