I Paid Off My Boyfriend's Debt, Then He Betrayed Me

It wasn't until I saw him with Daphne at the restaurant today that everything fell into place.

So, it was Daphne all along.

Had their relationship already reached this point?

I couldn't hold back any longer. "Are you planning to play games with Daphne now?"

Deacon froze, his back stiffening as he slowly turned to face me. His eyes were hard, cautious. "Are you spying on me?"

A wave of exhaustion washed over me. I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to steady myself. "I saw you when I was delivering food today." My voice cracked as the words slipped out, my throat tightening. "You were peeling shrimp for her."

I forced the words out, my throat tight and heavy. As expected, Deacon's face twisted with anger the moment they hit him.

He stormed toward me, his expression a mix of shame and fury at being caught. The pot of leftover mutton on the table sat there like a cruel reminder, mocking him. His face flushed red, and his only way out was to lash at me.

"Madison, you followed me!" His voice trembled with rage. "I had dinner with Daphne because I needed her to introduce clients! I’ve been out there every day, bending over backward like a beggar—and you! You actually spied on me! You doubt me?"

He paused, the bitterness of betrayal sharp in his voice. "How did you become like this?"

I stood there, watching his anger flare, but inside, I felt only a deep, quiet disappointment.

Had I changed?

No, Deacon. It’s you who changed.

Just mentioning Daphne’s name made his anger flare. I lowered my gaze, trying to hide the emptiness creeping into my eyes.

Since I came back, he hadn't once asked about the wound on my hand, never asked if I was tired after spending all day running around.

My hands stayed buried in my pockets, fingers clenched around the unused condoms I hadn’t had the heart to throw away.

What if I told him I already knew everything? That I’d seen it all?

After delivering the takeaway earlier, something made me turn back. I’m not sure what I was hoping to find, but instead, I saw it—the car, rocking.

Deacon always treated that car like it was his most prized possession. I still remember the first time he drove it to pick me up, how proud he was.

I had pulled out a bag of potato chips from my bag, and before I even had the chance to open it, he snapped.

"Madison, this is a new car, and you're going to eat in it? Are you going to clean up the mess? Will you pay for the car wash?"

I panicked, stuffing the chips back into my bag, stammering out apologies.

"I'm sorry, I didn’t know. I won’t do it again." My voice was small, desperate to fix things.

But Deacon’s lips remained pressed into a hard line, his anger palpable. He stayed silent, eyes fixed on the road.

I hesitated before gently tugging on his sleeve. "Please don’t be mad. I won’t eat in your car again, I promise. I’m sorry. Just... don’t be angry, okay?"

Without a word, he suddenly jerked the car to the side of the road. The seatbelt snapped open as he roughly unbuckled it, yanking the door open.

"Get out."

I froze, staring at the blur of traffic speeding by, my mind struggling to catch up. "What?"

"Get out!" he barked, his voice cold and unfamiliar. "Don’t make me say it again."

I don’t remember much after that. Just the shock, the disbelief.

I walked for what felt like forever—through the sunlit afternoon into the dark, starry night. My feet ached, my heart even more so. Eventually, a kind stranger found me and called the police.

I remember breaking down, sobbing uncontrollably in the back of the police car.

All I did was open a bag of potato chips. And for that, he threw me out onto the highway.

But now, he can tolerate doing that with Daphne in the car.

It wasn’t about keeping the car clean. He just couldn’t stand me.

I looked up at him, swallowing the bitterness that lingered in my throat. "I'm sorry. I was wrong. I won’t make the same mistake again."

Yes, I won’t make it again.

Hearing those words, his expression softened, as if that was all he needed to hear.

"Good. I'm just exhausted," he sighed, his voice almost casual. "I didn’t mean to lose my temper with you."

With that, he turned and walked into the e-sports room. Moments later, I heard the familiar sounds of his game starting up. The door wasn’t fully closed, and through the small crack, his voice floated out—soft, affectionate.

"I'm sorry for making you wait so long. It’s just her being paranoid again. Can I get you a milk tea to make it up to you? You’re not fat, come on. Even if you were, you’d still be my little princess."

A pause, then a chuckle. "Fat people are just more lovable. You know I love you the most."