After He Left, I Chose His Brother

"Dalia," Xander called out, giving my hip a light tap.

I turned to face him as he wanted and lifted the hips, shifting into a position that suited him.

"Yes, just like that, Dalia. I love this about you," he murmured, his breath coming in soft pants as he gently pressed my waist. My upper body rested on the bed, fingers curling tightly into the sheets.

That night, he was more intense than usual, as if he wanted to make up for the two days we’d been apart, using every little trick and way of being close that we’d learned over the ten years together.

By the end, I lay there, too spent to move, watching him through half-closed eyes as he pulled away, looking satisfied.

"Two days without this and you’re already going all out? You’ll wear yourself out if you keep this up," I said. In ten years, I’d never seen him so unrestrained.

Xander came back from the bathroom and held out his arm. I settled into his embrace naturally, letting his hand drift softly over my skin.

"Dalia, you once said as long as I made you happy, you’d never ask for more, right?" he said quietly.

"So if... if I wanted to end things between us, you wouldn’t push for reasons, would you?"

There was a nervous test in his voice that sent a strange, uneasy feeling through me.

Ten years ago, I was twenty. I was working at a café when I accidentally broke two of the manager’s coffee mugs. He demanded I pay for them, but I didn’t have the money. That’s when Xander stepped in to help me.

“What are you staring at?” he asked, noticing my gaze. His beautiful eyes crinkled into a smile.

“You’re really handsome,” I blurted out, my face flushing bright red the second the words left my mouth.

The next day, he showed up at the café door, took my hand, and said, “You like good-looking guys? Be my girlfriend, and you can look all you want.”

I said yes.

Later, he’d often ask if I’d really agreed to be with him just because he was handsome. I’d nod and add, “I also like how strong you are.” His Adam’s apple would bob, and he’d lift me into his arms and carry me to a hotel.

Ten years have passed, and his face and build haven’t changed a bit. But now, I can’t tell if I’m drawn to him as a person, or just to his body.

I studied him up and down, holding back the urge to pour out my true feelings. “You’re not the only good-looking man in the world, you know.”

That seemed to put Xander at ease. “Good. Then I can feel better about ending things with you, Dalia.”

“My family’s set me up with someone. I’m at the age where I should get married—I don’t want to play around anymore.”

As Xander spoke, the warmth drained from my body, leaving me cold to the core, shivering almost.

He was the one who’d asked me to be his girlfriend. All this time, I’d thought we were in a real relationship. I’d always seen him as my boyfriend, without a doubt. And as the years went by, I’d even started hoping he’d propose.

I didn't expect it. He just said he wanted to get married and didn't want to fool around anymore. So it turns out, everything he had with me was just for fun.

I sat up, put on my coat, poured myself a glass of red wine, and drank it all in one go. Taking advantage of the moment I tilted my head back, I held back the tears that were about to fall.

"Alright," my voice trembled, yet carried a hint of stubbornness.

Xander got out of bed, sat on the sofa, pulled me over, and let me sit on his lap.

"I've met that girl a few times. She's someone who's really suitable for marriage," he said.

I nodded. So he had already met that girl behind my back. Today, he was just here to inform me.

I turned my head away, blinked hard, forcing the tears back. I'm already thirty; my inner vulnerability is something only I need to know. What's more, Xander doesn't care at all. I was just someone he played with, never someone he treated with true sincerity.

Feeling that the soreness in my eyes had faded, I turned back, looped my arms around his neck.

"Is she more able to satisfy you than I am?" Xander has always had high expectations in our intimate moments, and it took me a long time to adjust to him, to be able to make him lose himself like I do now.

He shook his head, his gaze deep. "But, Dalia, that's not about love."

"She's very innocent, like a pure white rose. It's different with you."

"The two of you... aren't comparable."

It sounded like the biggest joke I'd ever heard. I laughed exaggeratedly. "Xander, you're being ridiculous."

"Don't forget, when we first met, you said the same kind of things about me."

"You're the one who turned me into this, and now you're turning around to put me down?"

In the beginning, Xander was never satisfied with my shyness and innocence.

He even took me to the bathroom mirror, making me look straight at myself, lost in desire.

"Dalia, arch your back a little more, that's it, sway your hips."

Gradually, I learned a hundred ways to charm him, losing myself completely in the illusion he'd created.

He'd always stroke my face in those intimate moments, praising me for being beautiful, for knowing how to captivate him.

Now that he's met someone else, he describes her as innocent. Xander knows that's a part of me I can never get back—and yet he's tearing open that raw wound with his own hands. It felt like my heart had been hit by a boulder, making even breathing painful.

"So tell me, what do you mean by 'can't play around anymore'?"

Through his gradual guidance, I'd become someone perfectly in tune with him in our private moments. The scattered tissues and little trinkets around were proof of how I'd let go, but now that he wants to marry, blaming me for my lack of innocence.

I wanted to ask him: if you never liked it, why turn me into this?

Ten years together— I gave him my body, my pride, my love— only to end up as a fling.

Xander was stuck for words, his eyes cast down. Every second felt like torture; I squirmed, trying to break free from his embrace. But with just a few moves, he held my waist tight, his voice hoarse: "Dalia, stop moving."

I froze when I felt something firm against me, only to be lifted and set on the bed the next second. "I don't want this!" I hated feeling like a toy. If he didn't care for me, why keep humiliating me like this?

He was about to speak when the phone rang. The moment he saw the number, he pulled me up and locked me in the bathroom.

Then he answered the phone. Even through the door, I could hear a soft voice say, "Xander, I'm so hungry. I want pizza."

Xander's tone was gentle in a way I'd never heard before. "Okay, I'll come pick you up now. Wait for me."

It made me think of how he'd call me every time he wanted to let off steam, saying, "Get cleaned up and wait for me." And when I was hungry, he'd yank the quilt over us both and say, "Aren't I enough to satisfy you?"

After hanging up, he opened the bathroom door. He didn't notice my tear-filled eyes, and without a word of explanation, he hurried out. It turned out his urges weren't something he had to act on no matter what.