Voted Out! I Am No Longer Your Option

Before my birthday party even started, Ethan cast his phone screen onto the massive TV in our VIP lounge booth. He started an anonymous poll in our Snapchat group. The question was: Should I stay with my girlfriend to cut her birthday cake tonight, or take my childhood best friend, Melanie, to her movie premiere? A thirty-second countdown. The votes rolled in instantly. Melanie: 17 votes. Me: 1 vote. Everyone assumed that one single vote was mine. Ethan leaned back on the leather sofa, a smirk playing on his lips when he saw the results. "Well, majority rules." Melanie immediately slid her movie ticket into his palm. "See? Even everyone else thinks you should be with me tonight." I stood there in my favorite dress, staring at my birthday cake. The candles weren't even lit yet. Someone in the booth let out a sharp whistle. "Come on, Chloe, don't be a sore loser." Right. This kind of voting had been going on for three years. When we argued, they voted to decide who should apologize first. When we went on dates, they voted to decide whose hand he should hold. Even when I asked him if he loved me, he would throw the question into the group chat. "Let's let everyone judge this," he'd say. I used to think that if I could just win once, it would mean he had finally chosen me. But I never won. Not even tonight. Ethan stood up and grabbed his jacket. As he walked past me, he casually ruffled my hair. "Be good. I'll make it up to you when I get back." I stared at the poll results on the big screen, locked my phone, and pushed the cake knife toward him. "No need." "Ethan, I'm opting out." 1 The VIP booth fell dead silent for a few seconds. Ethan's hand froze mid-air, just above my head. Melanie was the first to let out a soft giggle, as if she had just heard a harmless joke. "Chloe, don't be like that. It's your birthday." Ethan pulled his hand back, his brows furrowing deep. "Chloe, everyone is watching. Don't throw a tantrum just because you lost." In the past, the moment he raised his voice, I would be the first to bow my head. I was afraid of making him unhappy, afraid of his friends mocking me, afraid of being called "too dramatic" over nothing. But this time, I just reached down and pulled the candles out of the cake, one by one. "I'm not the one making things look ugly here." Melanie immediately tugged at Ethan's sleeve. "Ethan, forget it. I don't need to see the movie anymore." Though she said she didn't care, she held the ticket so tight her knuckles turned white. Our mutual friends immediately started chiming in. "The poll is closed, we can't break the rules!" "Yeah, Melanie, just go. Chloe can celebrate her birthday tomorrow anyway." Ethan checked his watch. The movie started in twenty minutes. He remained silent for a moment, then shrugged into his coat. "I'll drive her there." "If you still want to celebrate, wait for me here." "Don't make me have to comfort both of you every single time." I looked up, meeting his eyes. "I said, no need." He ignored me, walking straight past me. Melanie followed closely behind him. As she passed me, she let out a gentle sigh. "Chloe, you know he hates being forced to choose." The moment the door clicked shut, the music in the booth blasted back to life. The poll on the giant screen was still active. Melanie: 17. Me: 1. That lonely single vote hung there, looking like the last shred of my dignity. My phone buzzed. A new poll popped up in the group chat. This time, it wasn't anonymous. How many minutes until Chloe runs out to apologize? Ten minutes. Half an hour. Tomorrow morning. Melanie voted for "ten minutes." Someone replied with a laughing emoji. "Don't overestimate her. Five minutes is enough." "She can't live without Ethan." Ethan didn't vote. But he didn't stop them either. In the chat, someone suddenly asked, "Hey, that one vote for the girlfriend earlier... Chloe voted for herself, right?" Melanie replied with a giggling emoji. "Who else would vote for her?" I stared at the screen, my fingertips growing icy cold. They didn't even believe that the single vote could have come from anyone else. I left the group chat. I left my birthday tiara on the table. The gold paper was damp from spilled alcohol, drooping sadly. I grabbed my purse and walked out. Someone behind me called out, "Chloe, you're actually leaving?" I didn't look back. The hallway was long and quiet. The glass walls reflected my reflection. A white dress, red eyes, and empty hands. I looked like a clown who had finally run out of jokes. 2 Ethan didn't get back until 1:00 AM. I was busy packing his things. In our three years of dating, his presence had filled every corner of my apartment. His sneakers in the hallway, his razor in the bathroom, his lighter in the couch cushions. Even the throw pillows I bought had been replaced with his favorite gray ones. I was taping up the last box of his books when the front door unlocked. Ethan stood in the doorway, smelling of the cold night air and a faint perfume. It was Melanie's signature scent. The moment he saw the cardboard boxes, his face darkened. "Are you doing this again?" I pulled a strip of tape. "I'll have someone pick these up tomorrow." He walked over and slammed his hand onto the box. "Chloe, I already tried to give you an out about the birthday thing." "How long are you going to keep throwing this tantrum?" I looked up at him. "I'm not throwing a tantrum." "I'm packing." Ethan let out a frustrated laugh. "I took Melanie to a movie, and now you want to break up?" "You saw it yourself. The group voted for it." My hands paused. "So, you honestly think you did nothing wrong?" He frowned. "I was just following the rules." The rules. Again. Three years ago, during our very first poll, he used the exact same words. He had promised to make our relationship public that day. But Melanie posted a poll in the group chat first. Will Ethan going public with his relationship ruin our group dynamic? Yes: 15 votes. No: 2 votes. Ethan looked at the results and ruffled my hair. "We can go public later, babe. Everyone thinks now isn't the right time." So I waited three months. I waited until Melanie's birthday, when he posted a photo of them together on Instagram. Then came New Year's Eve, the passenger seat of his car, our anniversary, the first slice of cake. Time after time, I was put up for a vote, and time after time, I was voted out. I grabbed my old backup phone, unlocked it, and opened a folder. Inside were screenshots from the last three years. Two hundred and seventy-six screenshots. Ethan froze. "Why did you save these?" I turned the screen toward him. "So I wouldn't get soft-hearted." "And so I'd never forget why I had to leave." His face went rigid. "Chloe, you're becoming incredibly bitter." "Bitter?" I let out a soft laugh. "Compared to watching all of you vote on my life over and over, this is actually pretty dignified." Ethan averted his gaze. After a long silence, he muttered, "You never used to care so much about these things." "Because I used to believe that just once, you would choose me." He fell silent. I slid the box toward his feet. "That vote last night? It wasn't mine." Ethan looked up, as if he had just heard something absurd. "If it wasn't you, who else could it be?" I didn't answer. Because I didn't know either. I only knew that when the countdown started, my hands were at my sides. I hadn't even touched my phone. Perhaps it was my last shred of pride that stopped me from begging for a vote in front of a room full of people. Ethan stared at me for a long time, then suddenly kicked the box aside. "Fine." "If you want to clear things out, make sure you don't leave anything behind." Right then, his phone lit up. A message from Melanie. Ethan, is Chloe still mad at me? Should I take her out for lunch tomorrow and apologize in person? Ethan didn't try to hide the screen from me. He typed back quickly. She's still throwing a fit. We'll figure it out tomorrow. Looking at those words, I felt a sudden wave of amusement. To him, I wasn't heartbroken or disappointed. I was just "throwing a fit." I bent down, straightened the box, and taped it shut. "Ethan, we're over." With his back to me, he let out a cold laugh. "You've said that so many times." "But you've never actually left, have you?" 3 Around noon the next day, my friend Sophia called me. Her voice sounded hesitant. "Chloe, Ethan called me earlier. He said you left some things at the lounge last night." "He said you aren't picking up his calls, so he asked me to let you know." I was silent for a few seconds. Sophia quickly added, "I'll go with you. We'll grab your stuff and leave right away." But when we arrived at the VIP lounge, the booth was packed with people. Sophia's expression shifted instantly. She hissed under her breath, "He told me it was just your gifts here. He didn't say the whole gang would be here." Ethan sat in the center. Melanie sat right next to him, her eyes red and puffy as if she had cried all night. A small cake sat on the table. The candles were already lit. The moment she saw me, Melanie stood up. "Chloe, I'm so sorry." She walked over to me with a glass of champagne, her voice trembling. "Last night was my fault. I shouldn't have joked around with the movie ticket." "Please don't break up with Ethan because of me, okay?" Ethan looked up. "Melanie already apologized, Chloe. Stop being so stubborn." "Everyone just wants to clear the air." As soon as he finished speaking, the giant screen lit up. Someone laughed and raised their phone. "Why don't we settle this the old-fashioned way?" A poll popped up on the screen. Should Chloe drink a glass of champagne with Melanie to officially make up? Before the countdown even ended, the votes were completely one-sided. Yes: 18. No: 0. It was as if the results had been decided before I even walked in. Melanie bit her lower lip. "Guys, don't do this. It'll make Chloe uncomfortable." Ethan pushed a glass toward me. "Drink, and let's move past this." I stared down at the amber liquid. The sloshing champagne reflected my tired face. Over the past three years, I had drunk so many of these glasses. To not ruin the mood. To give him an out. To prove I was cool. To keep Ethan from frowning. I picked up the glass. Ethan's expression softened a bit. Melanie let out a small sigh of relief. But in the next second, I dumped the entire glass of champagne straight into the ice bucket beside me. The sharp clatter of ice echoing in the room made everyone freeze. I placed the empty glass back on the table. "I'm not drinking to this." "And you don't need to notify me when you decide to 'move past' things." Ethan's face hardened instantly. "Chloe, do you have to do this?" "Do what?" I looked at him. "You guys start a poll, force me to drink, force me to be the bigger person, and force me to pretend I'm not hurt." "And then you ask me why I'm making a scene?" Tears began to roll down Melanie's cheeks. "I really just wanted to get along with you." She turned around, pretending to leave. "Ethan, I think I should go. I don't want Chloe to hate me even more." Ethan instinctively stood up to hold her back. His reaction was so fast. So fast he didn't even realize he had done it. But I saw it clearly. He didn't need a poll. His body had already made the choice for him, a thousand times over. Sophia grabbed my hand and whispered, "Shall we go?" I nodded. Just as we reached the door, Ethan caught up and grabbed my wrist. "You need to make things clear before you leave today." I shook him off. "I've made it very clear." "We are broken up. She apologized. You two can carry on." His eyes flared with anger. "I didn't agree to a breakup." I laughed. "Oh, so we have to vote on breakups now too?" My phone buzzed. A new poll had been posted in the group. Will Chloe come back tonight? Yes. Definitely yes. Only two options. No third choice. I held my phone screen in front of Ethan's face. "Look." "They've even decided my return for me." Ethan's face went pale. Melanie stood behind him, calling softly, "Ethan, please don't fight with Chloe because of me." He didn't chase after me. At least, not in that moment. I walked out of the lounge into the overcast evening. On my phone, the moving company sent a confirmation text. Hi Chloe, we are scheduled for tomorrow afternoon at 3:00 PM. I typed back a single word. Perfect. 4 The sky stayed gray on moving day. I stood in the empty living room, watching the cardboard boxes stack up against the walls. Faint outlines remained on the paint where my picture frames used to hang. They looked like scars left behind after a relationship had been violently ripped away. My landlord called me, sounding troubled. "Chloe, Ethan reached out to me. He said you're just having a small fight and told me not to process the lease termination yet." I dropped the spare key into an envelope. "Just follow the contract, please." The landlord hesitated. "He said you'd regret it." I smiled gently. "That's his opinion." Right after I hung up, the doorbell rang. Ethan was standing outside. He was wearing the same black coat from the night before, his expression grim. He didn't ring the bell again. He just texted me. Open the door. Stop trying to scare me with this moving stuff. Chloe, my patience is wearing thin. I didn't reply. Ten minutes later, another text arrived. What do you want me to do? Looking at that sentence, I suddenly remembered the first time I backed down, three years ago. I had asked him the exact same thing back then. "Ethan, what do you want me to do?" At the time, he said, "Just stop being so sensitive." It turned out some words eventually find their way back to you. Except this time, the pain was on him. By the time the movers arrived, Ethan was still standing in the hallway. When the door opened, his eyes didn't land on me. They swept past me into the empty apartment. The shoe rack was empty. The coffee table was gone. Even the little plant he always complained was ugly was cradled in my arms. His face finally cracked. "You're actually serious?" I nodded. "Yeah." He reached out to grab my suitcase. "Where are you going?" I stepped back. "None of your business." Ethan grit his teeth. "Chloe, don't take this too far." "I sent Melanie home last night." "I didn't participate in their polls either." "What more do you want from me?" I looked at him. To him, simply stopping the hurt was already considered a massive compromise. I pulled out my old phone from my purse. The screen displayed a poll I had just created. Is Ethan worth Chloe's second chance? Option 1: No. Option 2: Absolutely not. Total voters: 1. I clicked the second option. Ethan's face turned incredibly pale as he saw the screen. "Are you being childish?" "I learned from the best." I handed him the phone. "In the last three years, you let them vote on my life 1,276 times." "Ethan, now it's my turn to choose." His voice dropped, cold and sharp. "Don't you dare." I shoved the envelope into his coat pocket. Inside was the key. The couple's bracelet he bought me. And the movie ticket from last night, ripped in half. "I choose to vote you out." Ethan grabbed my wrist tightly. "Chloe!" The movers stood by the elevator, looking incredibly awkward. I looked down at his grip on my wrist. In the past, whenever he held me like this, I would soften up. Even if my chest was tight with tears and hurt, I would immediately think, Is he finally trying to keep me? But this time, I only felt annoyed. I peeled his fingers away, one by one. "Don't touch me." Ethan froze. His fingers hovered in the air, as if he was realizing for the very first time that I could actually push him away. Just then, his phone buzzed. A message from Melanie popped up with a screenshot of a new poll. How many days until Chloe crawls back this time? Three days. A week. Two weeks max. Melanie's profile picture was under "Three days." Ethan's hand trembled. He instinctively locked his screen, but it was too late. I had already seen it. At that moment, the lingering ache in my chest finally disappeared. I dropped my old phone into his palm. "You guys enjoy your bets." "I'm out of the game."