There was a pause. “You used to beg me for this,” he said, sounding genuinely confused.
I didn’t respond. He muttered something about going to the bathroom and said we’d leave together after, but I hardly heard him. His phone buzzed, lighting up the desk beside me. A message from Fiona flashed across the screen:
You silly! Sending me a lot of milk teas at once! Trying to make me fat, huh?
I stared at the screen for a moment, then turned my attention back to my computer, my heart ice cold.
When we got home, I went straight to the bedroom and started packing. I wasn’t staying here any longer. Ethan came in, freshly showered, and noticed the changes immediately—my things missing from their usual places.
He frowned but didn’t ask. “Hey, I’m going to Paris for a business trip next month. If you want anything, just make a list.”
I didn’t hesitate. “Nah, I don’t need anything.”
He dropped his towel onto the bed, a chill entering his voice. "What’s wrong? You mad because I bought you the wrong ?"
I blinked at him, confused, but before I could respond, he scoffed. “You know I can’t stand women being dramatic. Skylar, you’re being ridiculous. It's just a milk tea.”