His Promise Failed When I Found Out Who He Was Sleeping With Chapter 09

His Promise Failed When I Found Out Who He Was Sleeping With Chapter 09

They stood outside the coffee shop for a long time. Until the sunset faded and the streetlights came on.

Derek finished his coffee. Didn’t know where to throw the cup.

I pointed at a trash can. He walked over, tossed it, and came back.

Like a kid who didn’t know what to do with himself.

“You should go.”

My voice was soft.

He shook his head. Slow. But sure.

“Not yet.”

I didn’t push. Took him to a restaurant I liked.

Small place. Home-style cooking. The owner knew me.

When she saw me with a man, her eyes lit up.

“Vivi, is this your boyfriend?”

I shook my head. Told her, in English, that he was just a friend.

Derek sat across from me, watching me talk in fluent English.

Watching me order like I’d done it a hundred times.

Watching me smile.

The smile he hadn’t seen in years.

Maybe the smile I’d stopped wearing when he was still around.

When the food came, he didn’t like it.

But he ate every bite.

Because this was my life now. He wanted to know what it was like.

“Vivian.”

He put down his fork.

“I’m sorry.”

He’d said those words before. But this time, his voice shook.

I hesitated. Then kept eating.

“I know it doesn’t matter.”

His voice got quieter.

“I just want you to know. I regret it.”

“Not because you left. I should’ve regretted it when I was doing it.”

“But I was stupid. I thought you’d always be there.”

I put down my fork. Looked up at him.

“Derek, if I hadn’t found out… would you even feel guilty?”

He froze.

“Would you?”

I asked again.

He opened his mouth. Wanted to say yes.

But the words wouldn’t come.

Because he knew I wouldn’t believe him.

He didn’t even believe himself.

If I hadn’t found out, would he still be stringing both of us along?

The silence said everything.

I smiled. Didn’t push.

“I’m not blaming you.”

“I just want you to understand. The problem between us wasn’t Amanda. Wasn’t Leo.”

“The problem was you. You never put me first.”

“You went abroad. I was the last to know. I was drowning in depression, and you couldn’t even text me back.”

“You thought sending money was enough. But I never wanted money.”

“Derek, all I wanted was for you to look at me. Just once. So I knew you still remembered I existed.”

By the end, my voice cracked. But I didn’t cry.

I just took a sip of water. Stood up. Paid the bill.

Walking out, the Northpine Island wind was cold.

He took off his jacket to put it on me. Then stopped halfway.

Because I stepped back.

A small movement. Natural. Automatic.

And that’s what hurt the most.

Because it meant I’d gotten used to keeping my distance from him.