Ethan Miller lived a charmed life. Parties,
friends, never a dull moment. But lately, time
had been dragging. Nothing felt the same. He
was at his usual reserved room at the club, his
friends engrossed in pool and cards, when the
boredom became unbearable. He tossed his
cue aside, grabbing his phone and heading to
the window. A message popped up. Blurry
photos. A crowded supermarket. A man and a
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woman, laughing, standing in front of brightly lit
shelves. In another photo, the man had his arm
around the woman’s waist. She didn’t seem to
mind.
Ethan’s blood ran cold. He’d dismissed the
photo of their hands, but these…these were like
a knife to the gut. He knew, with a sickening
certainty, what they meant. They were intimate,
and it hadn’t been a one–time thing.
He caught his reflection in the window: eyes
bloodshot, face contorted in rage. He slammed
his phone against the floor, the shattering
sound silencing the room. Everyone stared at
him, shocked and apprehensive. He forced
himself to calm down, turning back to the
group. “Keep playing. Don’t stop on my
account.” He walked towards the door. “I need
some air. Don’t wait up.”
He stepped out into the empty hallway, his
anger a living thing inside him. He stopped a
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passing waiter. “Your phone.” The confused
waiter handed it over. Ethan dialed Ashley’s
number. He didn’t know when he’d memorized
it, but it didn’t matter. He needed to hear her
voice, see her, tear her away from David. From
the man who had stolen her with a damn sweet
potato.
She hung up on him. He called again. She didn’t
answer. He lit a cigarette, taking a drag. He
texted her: Don’t make me come over there.
She answered the third call. Probably hiding
from David, he thought, his heart pounding with
a mixture of rage and longing. Her voice was
hushed, as if she were a thief.
“Ashley,” he said, his voice tight. “Tell Carter it
was a mistake, a fling. You don’t like him, you
could never like him. Tell him to go back to
wherever he came from. I’ll pretend it never
happened. I’ll forgive you, this once.”
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- 16.
Silence stretched for an agonizing half–minute. Ethan could hear his own breathing, the frantic
beating of his heart.
“That night in Miami…maybe it was a mistake.
But this isn’t,” she finally said. “I liked him in
high school. It’s not that strange that I like him
again. And Ethan, we’re just friends. Friends
don’t dictate each other’s relationships. Your
never acknowledged me when we were
together. I don’t need your forgiveness for what
I do now. Move on, Ethan. Let’s end this
amicably.” She hung up before he could
respond.
Ethan stared at the phone, watching the snow
fall outside. Last year, during a similar snowfall, Ashley had been at his apartment. They’d had hot pot, then she’d curled up on the couch watching TV. He’d rested his head on her lap, falling asleep. He thought she’d kissed him
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