Ending My Seven-Year Relationship with My Secret Boyfriend

For seven years, I had been in a secret relationship with my brother’s best friend, Jason Ramirez.

One night, after drinking, he looked at me with a playful smirk and said, “Zoey, I’ll find you a better man. Stop clinging to me, okay?”

I replied calmly and obediently, “Alright.”

It was because, in a past life, I had refused his suggestion and insisted on marrying him. After our wedding, Jason ignored me, deliberately distanced himself, and made me feel invisible.

Even when I was eight months pregnant and suffered severe bleeding after a car accident, he was attending a concert with his heartbroken secretary, Shairine, enjoying her favorite band.

It was only then I realized—he was someone else’s salvation, but he was never meant to be my soulmate.

—

When I said “alright,” Jason froze in place. He hadn’t expected me to agree so readily.

The dim light of the private lounge cast soft shadows. His handsome face was tinged with an unusual flush, but his eyes remained clear, showing no sign of drunkenness.

I sat composedly, my posture graceful and polite, a faint smile gracing my lips as I looked at him.

At that instant, his earlier laziness vanished. Jason straightened his back and asked with a solemn expression, “Zoey, did you hear what I just said?”

I nodded. “I heard you clearly.”

In the past, whenever he said something like this, I would pout, act playful, and beg him not to bring it up again.

But now, my emotions were as calm as still water, as if I were merely a spectator watching a scene unfold, untouched and unmoved.

“Zoey, you...”

Before he could finish, my brother Yves returned from stepping outside. He entered with a teasing grin. “Guess who I just saw outside?”

Without waiting for a response, Yves continued, “I saw your ex-girlfriend. She seems drunk and was being helped into another lounge—”

Before he could finish his sentence, Jason shot up from his seat and strode out of the room. Moments later, the sound of commotion and shattering glass echoed from the hallway.

I remained in my seat, unfazed, casually eating the peeled tangerines from the fruit platter.

Jason liked fruit but hated peeling it. Every time, I would carefully peel it for him and place it in front of him, and only then would he take a few bites.

Yves often teased me about it. “You’re so good to him. Why don’t I ever see you treating your real brother like that? Could it be that you like him?”

Many times, I was tempted to reveal my relationship with Jason.

But Jason would always gently pat my head and speak first. “Maybe, in Zoey’s eyes, I’m more like a real brother than you are. Little sister spoiling her big brother—do you have a problem with that?”

Over time, I understood his intentions. He didn’t want anyone to know about us.

So, I kept silent as well.

For seven years, no one knew about the relationship between us.

Now, Yves stood by the door, watching the chaos unfold outside, waiting for the right moment to intervene.

Glancing back at me, still calmly eating fruit, he teased, “Zoey, your dear Jason just got into a fight. Aren’t you going to help him?”

I swallowed the last slice of tangerine and shook my head. “My arms are too thin, and my legs too weak. I’d only get in the way.”

Hearing this, Yves raised an eyebrow but said nothing more as he stepped out to assist.

I stayed in the lounge for a long time—long enough for the noise outside to quiet down. Only then did I get up and walk out.

The moment I stepped into the hallway, I saw Jason carefully holding another woman in his arms—his ex-girlfriend and future secretary, Shairine.

Shairine was drunk, her body was soft as if it had no bones, leaning heavily against him.

Jason didn’t push her away. Instead, he held her tightly, as if afraid she might slip away.