His Biggest Regret

The music thumped against my chest, a pulsing rhythm that matched my pounding heart. Laughter and chatter filled the air, drowning out my own thoughts as I stood in the middle of the crowded mansion. My fingers trembled around the plastic cup in my hand, barely sipped, only there to keep me from fidgeting.

Ethan’s hand was warm against the small of my back, guiding me through the sea of people. He looked effortlessly confident, flashing smiles at everyone who greeted him. To them, he was perfect—the golden boy, the star athlete, the guy everyone wanted to be or be with. And somehow, impossibly, he was mine.

“Relax,” he murmured against my ear, his breath tickling my skin. “No one here knows about us.”

I nodded, forcing a smile, but the unease gnawed at me. I hated keeping our relationship a secret. Every stolen glance, every hidden touch—it felt like I was living in a dream that could vanish at any second. But Ethan had insisted. “People wouldn’t understand,” he had said. “They’d ruin this.”

So I had agreed. Because I loved him. Because I trusted him.

A loud cheer erupted near the center of the room. Someone had climbed onto the grand staircase, waving a phone in the air. “Alright, everyone! Time for the main event!”

I turned toward the commotion, curiosity prickling my skin. Ethan tensed beside me.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

He hesitated, then forced a grin. “Just some dumb party tradition.”

The guy on the stairs smirked. “You all know the rules! Every year, we set a challenge. And this year’s bet… well, let’s just say it was a good one.”

The crowd buzzed with excitement. My stomach twisted.

The guy turned, pointing a dramatic finger. “Ethan King, get up here, man!”

Ethan stiffened, his grip on me loosening. I frowned, looking up at him. “What’s going on?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he stepped away from me, slipping effortlessly through the crowd until he was at the top of the stairs, standing beside the announcer. He looked down at me, his face unreadable. My pulse skittered.

The guy clapped a hand on Ethan’s shoulder. “Tell them, bro.”

Ethan took the phone from his hand, glancing at the screen. Then, with a slow smirk, he lifted his gaze back to me. “Alright, alright,” he drawled. “Let’s make it official.”

The room hushed. My breath hitched.

Ethan turned the screen toward the crowd, revealing a series of messages—screenshots of conversations. Conversations between him and his friends. My name was plastered across them.

“Bro, there’s no way you can pull that off.”

Ethan says arroganly “Watch me.”

“She’s such a nobody, man.” His friend keep warning him, but he didn’t even hesitate to do anything he want

Ethan fiercely said “That’s what makes it fun. Easy target.

“Give me a month. She’ll think she’s in love.” Ethan set a target to challenging himself and be proud of it.

My world stopped.

Laughter rippled through the room, growing louder and louder until it filled my ears, my mind, my chest. My breath came in short, sharp gasps as I stared at Ethan, my vision blurring at the edges.

This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real.

Ethan grinned. “What can I say? A bet’s a bet.”

The crowd erupted. Some cheered, some whistled, some just stared at me with wide, pitying eyes. A few girls cackled, their phones held high, capturing my humiliation for the world to see.

I felt sick.

The phone screens lit up, notifications flooding in as the video spread. My knees wobbled. My fingers went numb. My heart—my stupid, foolish heart—shattered into a million pieces.

I turned and ran.

The laughter followed me, echoing in my ears, clawing at my skin. I shoved past people, ignoring the drinks that spilled, the voices that called after me. My heels clicked wildly against the polished floor, my vision swimming with unshed tears.

I burst through the front door, the cold night air slapping against my face. My lungs burned, my chest ached, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t.

I needed to get away. I needed to disappear.

But as I reached the street, my phone buzzed violently in my pocket. With shaking hands, I pulled it out.

A notification flashed across the screen.

#LoserAva trending worldwide.

I choked on a sob, my legs giving out beneath me. I crumpled onto the sidewalk, my phone slipping from my grasp as the weight of everything crashed down on me.

Ethan had never loved me. I was nothing more than a game to him. A joke.

And now, the whole world was laughing.

But as I sat there, something deep inside me shifted. The pain didn’t disappear, but it twisted, hardened. A fire ignited in my chest, burning through the shame, the heartbreak.

They thought this was the end of me.

They were wrong.

I spent the next week in hiding, unable to face the outside world. My phone was a constant stream of cruel messages, memes mocking my heartbreak, and strangers picking apart my every flaw. I deactivated my accounts, but the damage was already done.

Then, the rage settled in. I refused to be a victim. If Ethan had played me like a fool, he was about to learn what happened when you pushed someone too far.

I started with the one thing I knew Ethan feared—losing his reputation. He had built himself into a perfect image, but I knew the cracks beneath the surface.

I reached out to the right people, leaked the right secrets. The academic cheating, the rigged games, the coaches who turned a blind eye. Every lie, every deceitful move Ethan had made was about to unravel.

The first headline appeared a few days later.

STAR ATHLETE ETHAN KING UNDER INVESTIGATION FOR ACADEMIC FRAUD.

Then another.

FOOTBALL CAPTAIN CAUGHT IN SCANDAL—EXPOSED FOR MANIPULATING GAME RESULTS.

And another.

ETHAN KING: THE FALL OF A GOLDEN BOY.

I watched as his world burned the same way he had burned mine.

The messages in my inbox shifted. People who once mocked me now whispered apologies. Strangers called me an inspiration. Others called me cruel. But for the first time since that night, I didn’t care.

Ethan had underestimated me.

And that was his biggest mistake.