I Haunted His Dreams After He Dumped Me For My Roommate Chapter 03

I Haunted His Dreams After He Dumped Me For My Roommate Chapter 03

I opened my eyes.

Back in my dorm bed.

I grabbed my phone. A wall of unread messages. Ethan still couldn’t be bothered to reply.

I tapped the screen and blocked him.

Then I deleted every photo that used to make me cry the moment I saw it.

I got up and went to my morning class.

That evening, after a full day of lectures, I found a restaurant to treat myself. The same place I’d once wanted to go with Ethan for our hundred-day anniversary. Now it was just me.

Right as my food arrived, a group sat down behind me. Someone called Ethan’s name.

I took a few bites before I looked back.

Sure enough, among the sea of beautiful people, the most striking one was in the corner—his permanent don’t-talk-to-me face glued to his phone.

Still, people kept trying.

He didn’t see me.

I finished eating, paid, and hit the restroom.

Walking down the stairs and pushing through the curtain, I nearly crashed right into Ethan. Tall, lean, looking like he’d been waiting.

I tried to walk past. He grabbed my arm.

He pressed a foreign-language book into my hands—a signed edition I’d once told him I loved but could never find.

I froze. “For me?”

“No,” he cut in, ice-cold. “It’s for Vera. Can you give it to her?”

Vera liked the same things I did. He never remembered my preferences, but he remembered hers.

I stared at the book in his hands.

Back when we were at our sweetest online, he’d stay on voice call with me all night while I studied. I once asked, “Will you be this good to your next girlfriend too?”

His voice was lazy, half-laughing, half-annoyed. “Yvonne, why are you so sure we won’t last?”

Now I stared at the book.

A dull, belated ache bloomed in my chest.

Yeah, Ethan. Why was that?

There was a time I would’ve given anything to stay with him a little longer.

I took a deep breath, forced the tears back, and said evenly, “I’m not helping you. I hate her more than anyone.”

He didn’t move. He just studied me an extra few seconds.

“Can I ask you something? Don’t make things hard for her because of me, okay?”

In the entire month we dated in person, he’d never spoken to me that gently.

His face was unreadable, his tone impossibly light.

“Yvonne, there’s nothing left between us. I’ve moved on. I hope you have too.”

I nodded.

I remembered the way he’d begged me not to push him away in his dreams. I turned and left.

The doorway was narrow.

As I squeezed past him, he glanced away and stepped back, careful not to touch me.

But in that exact moment, he caught it—crystal clear—that familiar scent he had noticed in his dreams.

The faint, unmistakable scent of my shampoo.

He froze.

His eyes snapped up, sharp and questioning, fixed on me.