My Rockstar Boyfriend Ruined My Future for His Other Girl

The fever hit me on the subway ride back to Brooklyn. By the time I stumbled through the door of our apartment, my skin was burning and my teeth wouldn't stop chattering. I collapsed onto the couch without taking off my coat, pulling a faded throw blanket up to my chin.

I slipped in and out of a restless, heavy sleep until something cold touched my forehead.

I opened my eyes. Dawn light filtered through the blinds, casting gray shadows across the living room. Chase was sitting on the edge of the cushion beside me, holding a damp washcloth against my brow. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and his hair was messy. At his feet, Sunny, our three-year-old golden retriever, gave a low whine and gently licked my cold fingers.

"You're awake," Chase murmured, setting the cloth aside. He reached for a glass on the coffee table. "Here. Take these."

He pressed two ibuprofen into my palm and held the glass of warm water to my lips. His touch was gentle, careful, and attentive—just like it had been for four years.

"I called your phone thirty times last night," he said quietly, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. "When it kept going straight to voicemail, I thought you'd gotten mixed up with another scammer."

A dull ache pulsed behind my temples as I swallowed the pills.

His words dragged me right back to our freshman year. Back then, I had responded to a fake job listing and ended up trapped in an empty office building in Queens by two men demanding ransom money. Chase had stayed on the phone with dispatchers all night, dragging the police from precinct to precinct until he kicked the door open himself. When he pulled me into his arms while I shook uncontrollably on the floor, he whispered into my hair: *Trust me. I'll never let anyone hurt you.*

That night, he became my entire world. My shelter.

Looking at him now, I finally understood the bitter truth. The person who pulls you out of the fire can easily be the one who sets you ablaze later.

"I shouldn't have left you at the park yesterday," Chase said, breaking the silence. His voice carried a faint trace of guilt, but when he spoke next, his tone leveled out. "We should have waited. But you have to stop being so sensitive about the bank interview, Evie. Wall Street is full of sharks. I already called my manager this morning. He's going to find you a better internship through our label's financial partners."

He still couldn't admit he had done anything wrong. In his mind, ruining my eight months of grueling work was just a minor inconvenience he could fix with a favor.

I looked away, staring down at Sunny's warm fur. "Is that so?"

"Yeah," Chase said, brightening up as if he had just solved everything. "To make it up to you, I made a reservation tonight. Riverview Prime."

I turned my head back toward him.

Riverview Prime was a glass-walled dining room on the fiftieth floor overlooking the East River. For our anniversary last year, I had begged him to go. He had laughed in my face, calling it an overpriced, tacky tourist trap that only pretentious amateurs cared about.

"You want to go there?" I asked, my voice dry.

"Table for two at seven," he said with a faint smile. "Put on something nice. We'll start fresh."

I stared at him for a few seconds. "Okay. I'll be there."

I didn't say yes because I believed him. I said yes because I wanted to see, one final time, just how deep his cruelty ran.

***

At seven o'clock sharp, I walked into Riverview Prime.

I wore the simple white dress Chase had bought me for our very first date in college. My hair was pulled back, and the fever had finally broken, leaving my skin pale under the restaurant's soft chandeliers. Outside the floor-to-ceiling glass, the Manhattan skyline glittered like a field of fallen stars against the dark river.

The hostess led me to a private booth right against the window. "Will your guest be joining you shortly, ma'am?"

"Yes," I told her, folding my napkin into my lap. "He's on his way."

Thirty minutes slipped by.

The waiter stopped by twice to refill my water glass. "Would you like to start with an appetizer while you wait?"

"Just a little longer, please," I said with an apologetic smile.

An hour passed. Then two.

The dining room began to empty out. Couples paid their checks, gathered their coats, and left. The waiter hovered near the service station, casting sympathetic, awkward glances in my direction.

At nine-forty, the waiter approached again, his voice hesitant. "Ma'am, our kitchen closes in twenty minutes. Would you like to place an order, or should I bring the bill for the sparkling water?"

Before I could answer, my phone buzzed against the white tablecloth.

A message from Chase:

*I'm not coming.*

A second message landed right behind it:

*You waited for nearly three hours just because someone promised you dinner? Lesson Three, Evelyn. Never trust a promise without proof.*

My hands lay flat on the linen. My breath didn't catch. My heart didn't race. The crushing weight that had sat on my chest for the last two days simply vanished, replaced by an eerie, hollow calm.

A notification from Instagram popped up on my screen.

Madison had posted a new Story.

I tapped it. The video showed the Brooklyn Bridge illuminated under the night sky. Standing against the railing was Madison, swaddled in Chase’s oversized wool coat, laughing as Chase leaned in beside her, his arm wrapped tightly around her waist.

Playing over the clip was Chase's breakout single, "Only You." The love song he had written in our tiny dorm room, dedicated to me when he had nothing to his name.

Madison’s caption read:

*Some songs are written for one girl, but sung for another.*

I stared at the screen for a long time. There were no tears left to cry. Four years of devotion, patience, and loyalty withered away into dust.

I exited Instagram, opened Chase’s text thread, and typed seven words:

*We're over. Don't contact me again.*

I hit send, then reached behind my neck to unclip the silver pendant he had given me for our fourth anniversary. I set the delicate chain on the table, right next to the empty bread plate.

I looked up at the waiter, who was watching me with obvious pity.

"I'd like to order dinner," I said calmly. "Just for one."

"Of course," he said, quickly pulling out his notepad. "What can I get for you?"

"The filet, medium rare. And whatever chocolate dessert you have."

"Right away, ma'am."

Twenty minutes later, he set down a rich molten chocolate cake topped with powdered sugar alongside my steak. "Compliments of the kitchen," he offered quietly. "Have a wonderful night, miss."

"Thank you," I said, smiling at him.

For the first time in years, I ate without rushing, without checking my watch to see when Chase needed his laundry picked up, and without worrying about his rehearsal schedule. I looked out at the glowing expanse of New York City and realized how vast the world actually was.

While waiting for the check, I opened my email and drafted a message to the recruitment director at the Mayfair fund in London.

*Dear Mr. Aldridge,*

*I have officially accepted the analyst offer. Please proceed with my visa sponsorship documents and housing stipend. I look forward to joining the team on November 24th.*

I sent it. The reply was almost immediate:

*Wonderful news, Evelyn. Our relocation coordinator will send your flight itinerary shortly.*

***

It was past midnight when I unlocked the front door of the Brooklyn apartment.

The living room lights were blazing. Chase was pacing the hardwood floor, his coat thrown haphazardly over a chair. Madison was sitting on our sofa, clutching a mug of tea, wearing one of his tour hoodies.

The moment the lock clicked, Chase spun around, his jaw tight with anger.

"Where the hell have you been?" he snapped, marching toward me. "What kind of childish stunt was that text? Breaking up with me over a joke? Are you trying to threaten me, Evelyn?"

Madison set her mug down and stood up, offering a soft, pleading look. "Evie, please don't be unreasonable. Chase set up that test to teach you resilience. Don't throw away four years of history over a petty misunderstanding."

Chase grabbed a heavy stack of textbooks from the side table and slammed them down on the counter between us. Financial modeling guides, CFA preparation manuals, and portfolio analysis packets.

"I bought these for you today," Chase said, crossing his arms over his chest. "I already paid the enrollment fee for an elite interview prep program next spring. My manager is setting up meetings with senior partners at three different private equity firms. If you just stop acting like a spoiled brat and listen to me, you'll have a better job on Wall Street than that entry-level garbage you missed."

I looked at the thick textbooks on the counter.

Then I looked at Chase, whose face was full of smug self-righteousness, convinced that his money and connections could buy my obedience.

A faint, quiet smile touched my lips.

"You're right," I said softly, meeting his gaze. "I'll try again next year."

Chase’s posture instantly relaxed. The anger melted from his features, replaced by a triumphant grin.

"See? I knew you'd come to your senses," he said, stepping forward. He reached out and affectionately tousled my hair, pulling me into a loose hug against his chest. "That's my good girl."

I stood still in his arms, neither leaning in nor pulling away.

Over his shoulder, my phone screen on the entryway table lit up with a new alert from British Airways.

*Booking Confirmed: One-way ticket to London Heathrow. Departure: November 24th.*

Ten days left.

Chase held me tightly, completely unaware that the girl he thought he had tamed was already gone—and when she walked out the door, she wouldn't even leave behind a goodbye.