After Being Dumped by My Ex-Boyfriend, I Became His Aunt

He didn't seem upset; he just shrugged it off but still wanted a ride with me.

I said, "Stand back."

He obediently took a step away, and in the next moment, I rolled up the window.

With a quick flick of the accelerator, I sped off, watching him grow smaller in the rearview mirror until he vanished completely.

When I got home, I was surprised to find Ethan had returned even earlier than I had.

Ignoring him, I headed straight for my room.

He followed cautiously, and as I stuffed clothes into my suitcase, he grabbed my hand.

"Emma, I was drunk earlier. I didn't mean what I said; please don't be mad."

I calmly pulled my hand away, feeling like a decade of my youth had been wasted on him.

Turning to face him, I said, "I'm not mad, ex-boyfriend."

The term clearly struck a nerve; his expression froze.

Before he could respond, his phone rang.

He answered it quickly and prepared to leave, saying over his shoulder, "Emma, let's talk when I get back."

With that, he rushed out the door.

Seeing him hurry off triggered a reflexive pang of sympathy in me.

It was late; who knew how long he'd be out negotiating contracts with someone else?

Shaking off the thought, I slapped my cheeks lightly. "Emma, stop feeling sorry for him."

By the time I finished packing, it was well past midnight.

Suddenly, a dull pain began to throb in my stomach—an ominous sign.

I quickly poured myself some water and swallowed two pills but felt no relief; instead, the pain intensified.

During Ethan's early days of starting his business, I accompanied him everywhere.

He was allergic to alcohol, so I played the role of his secretary and shielded him from drinking.

That's when my stomach issues began to surface.

He had always been considerate about my health and even prepared special meals for me to help soothe my stomach.

But now? He hadn't cared about my well-being in ages.

I had planned to move out tonight, but the pain made it impossible to move.

Sweat beaded on my forehead as the medication showed no effect.

Reluctantly, I reached for my phone and called Ethan.

After several attempts with no answer, just as I was about to give up hope, he finally called back.

Before I could say anything, he snapped at me. "Didn't I say we'd talk when I got back? Why are you calling? Can't you see I'm busy?"

In the silence that followed, a woman's voice came through on his end, "Ethan, what's wrong?"

I felt an immediate surge of anger mixed with amusement at his audacity.

"Busy with another woman in bed?" I spat back.

I didn't want to burden anyone with my minor ailment; instead, I suffered alone for two hours in silence.

Thankfully, the worst passed eventually.

Dragging my suitcase behind me, I left the villa that had once been filled with dreams of our future together.

In its place lay a formal breakup notice for Ethan—complete with a request for reimbursement of my previous investments—and then promptly blocked all his contact information.

I returned to our old apartment—the one I'd bought myself—only to unexpectedly run into someone familiar.

After a sleepless night dragging my suitcase to the complex entrance, I bumped into Ethan's friend who was out for a morning jog.

Not wanting to interact with him, I turned away only to spot Ethan leaning against the security booth.

My heart raced with shock and confusion; wasn't he supposed to be spending the night elsewhere?

Ignoring him again, I pushed my suitcase into the building.

But Ethan stepped forward and pressed down on my suitcase's handle.

His voice was hoarse as he asked, "Weren't we supposed to talk? What are you doing?"

I turned to face him and noticed marks on his neck—evidence of someone else's touch that seemed deliberately left visible.

A bitter laugh escaped me; just moments ago he had been wrapped up with another woman and now he wanted to reconcile?

I tugged my suitcase free and offered him a polite smile before trying to walk away.

Just as he opened his mouth to plead again, his gaze shifted past me as he called out, "Kyle."