My Boyfriend Never Really Blocked His Ex Chapter 02

My Boyfriend Never Really Blocked His Ex Chapter 02

I wasn’t letting that slap slide.

I called the cops.

Sirens soon sliced through the quiet of the gated community.

Vanessa sobered up instantly and lunged at me, claws bared to scratch, but the officers grabbed her arms, pinned them behind her back, and hauled her screeching into the squad car.

Nathan’s face, usually so stoic, twisted in panic.

“It’s a misunderstanding! She’s my friend. She’s drunk and upset, she didn’t mean to get physical. We can sort this out at home!”

The officer glanced at his notepad. “A Ms. Pearce filed an assault complaint. We need to take her in for questioning.”

“Assault complaint?” Nathan spun around. His eyes hit me like shards of ice.

Like he wanted to skin me alive.

“Elena! Are you seriously doing this right now?!”

My cheek was still throbbing. I just stared back at him, cold.

“Nathan! Nathan, help me! I don’t want to go!”

Vanessa was wailing from the back of the cruiser.

Nathan was frantic, slapping the window. “Ness! I’m right behind you, don’t worry!”

He didn’t even look at me. Just jumped in his car and peeled out after her.

I went to the ER and got the bruise documented.

My phone buzzed the whole way there. When I didn’t pick up, the texts flooded in.

All from Nathan.

[Pick up!]

[Why would you do that? She was drunk, and YOU pushed her first!]

[Go to the precinct and drop the charges. NOW.]

[If this goes on her record, her life is ruined. Can you just be decent for once?]

Decent?

I touched my still-stinging cheek and made a decision.

Back at Nathan’s condo, I pulled out my suitcase.

Three years. Not much to show for it.

I folded my clothes. Threw away my toothbrush.

Then I opened Nathan’s laptop.

I went to his cloud drive, ready to delete the handful of pictures we had together—the only proof that I hadn’t just imagined this whole relationship.

Auto-login did its thing.

But on some reckless impulse, I clicked on a folder labeled “Archive.”

I scrolled down.

There was no bottom.

Over ten thousand photos.

All Vanessa.

Waves crashing behind her as she ran barefoot on the beach, her hair flying back as she turned to laugh at the camera.

Cherry blossoms falling like snow as he held her waist, steadying her as she doubled over laughing under the branches.

Him holding a birthday cake under a shower of cherry blossoms, gazing at her like she was the only star in the sky.

Their history was vivid, intimate, and unapologetically passionate.

And me?

Three years in, and I’d always been nothing but a shadow.

I used to think trust was the most important thing.

He’d blocked her everywhere. He hated her so much he’d even refuse to order dishes she liked, and changed the station when her favorite songs came on.

I called that “done.”

I was too proud to check his phone. I never even asked for his passcode.

Even when he replied to my texts with one-word answers.

Even when he’d give me a gift, and I knew he’d calculated the exact dollar amount to match mine.

That was just his way—good manners, clear boundaries.

But now I was looking at screenshots of their old texts. A web of conversations, dense and endless.

He said: [Saw a stray cat today. Looks just like yours.]

She said: [Cloud looks like cotton candy. You better buy me one when you get off work.]

He said: [Anything for my sugar monster. Meow.]

Useless, stupid banter. And he’d always reply.

even when they fought, he’d send her long, heated messages, arguing every single point relentlessly.

He’d even handed over his payroll card to her. He texted her like a puppy: [Babe, can I have my allowance? Please?]

I looked at the photos. The messages.

My chest felt like someone had hit me with a sledgehammer.

It wasn’t that he didn’t know how to be romantic. It wasn’t that he was cold by nature.

He simply saved all his passion, all his indulgence, all his unbridled affection, for her alone. He’d never spared even a sliver of it for me.

He never gave me a crumb of it.

To him, I was just… dispensable. An afterthought.

That’s why he never even bothered to fight with me. It wasn’t worth his time.

I shut the laptop.

As the screen went dark, it reflected my pale face and red-rimmed eyes. My phone buzzed on the desk, lighting up then dimming again and again.

Nathan again.

[I’m giving you half an hour. If you don’t drop the charges, we’re done.]