My Boyfriend Never Really Blocked His Ex Chapter 03

My Boyfriend Never Really Blocked His Ex Chapter 03

As the elevator doors slid shut, I stared down at his message.

The threat pricked like a needle, but it no longer cut deep the way it once would have.

Three years. He’d been a decent boyfriend.

But whenever Vanessa was involved, every single fight turned him into a complete stranger.

I remembered last week, when he’d waited in line for thirty minutes to get me that limited milkshake drink everyone was losing it over.

The moment he pressed the cup into my hand, Vanessa stepped right in front of us, pouting in that entitled, spoiled way of hers.

“I want one too. You promised me your first seasonal treat was always mine.”

Without a word, he took the cup out of my hand, stuck a straw in it, and gave it to her.

I stared at my empty palm, the faint warmth of the cup already fading away.

He just slung his arm around my shoulder. “It’s just tea. Give it to her. Saves us the headache.”

Year two of our relationship. I brought him home to meet my parents for the first time.

My parents had spent three days prepping a whole spread of his favorite dishes.

Halfway there, Vanessa called. She’d rear-ended someone.

He turned the car around without a second thought.

I sat alone across from my parents, staring at plates of cold food, drowning in their awkward silence.

He apologized later. “She doesn’t know how to handle that stuff. Don’t be mad. I’ll make it up to your parents another time.”

That “another time” came. We were at the restaurant.

An unknown number flashed across his screen. He stood right there at the table and answered.

“Ness, what the hell do you want now?”

My mom’s chopsticks froze mid-air. My dad put his glass down.

After he hung up, I whispered that it was rude.

He frowned. “She won’t stop calling if I don’t pick up. Your parents aren’t going to be petty about it.”

The biggest fight was when my appendix burst.

I was about to be wheeled into surgery when Vanessa called, drunk out of her mind. “If you’re not here in ten minutes, I’ll hire three guys to party with me.”

He hesitated for three seconds. Then chose her.

I woke up to him standing by my hospital bed, dark circles under his eyes, fresh scratch marks on his neck from her nails.

He shrugged. “She was wasted. I was scared she’d do something she’d regret.”

“You’re fine now, right? I took a few days off to take care of you.”

They say a good ex should stay dead and buried.

But his ex was everywhere—in the air, in the walls, like a virus you couldn’t shake off.

And every time, he’d just shrug. “I hate it too. What am I supposed to do?”

He made me feel like the petty, unreasonable villain.

The elevator continued its descent, floor numbers ticking down one by one. I typed out my final reply.

[Fine. We’re done.]