The Price of His Second Chance

My boyfriend of seven years had an old handle on his socials that he never changed: "MoonlightHoarder". Whenever I teased him for being corny, he just smiled and stayed quiet. I only understood why when his first love—using the handle "Moonlight"—sent me a screenshot of a private post he had hidden from me. In that screenshot, the very day his tech company went public, Ethan couldn't wait to make things official with her. Our mutual friends stood up for me in the comments, calling him out, but he brushed them off with cold impatience. "People settle when they’re broke. Back then, I didn't have a choice." "Besides, seven years with her? I got tired of it a long time ago. She’s fine for passing the time, but when you get married, you marry the one you actually love." "So what if she finds out? She’s just my assistant. If she wants to walk, she can walk!" I quietly saved the screenshot and booked a one-way flight back to my hometown for three days later. "Chloe, redo this financial report." Ethan didn't even look up from scrolling through his phone as he tossed the file onto my desk. Not once did he glance my way. So, naturally, he didn't notice the resignation letter already halfway out of the printer behind me. A faint smile lingered on his lips. I knew he was texting Rachel. He used to have that exact same look back in college whenever he got a reply from her. "Mr. Miller," I said, my voice completely calm, "this report already cleared accounting yesterday." He finally looked up, his brow furrowing. "I said redo it, so redo it. Do you have a problem with that?" I lowered my eyes, my thumb unconsciously tracing the palm of my hand. "Fine. I’ll have it for you tomorrow." "I need it before you clock out today," he said dismissively. Then, as if remembering something, he added, "Oh, order a box of liquor-filled chocolates for me. Make sure they're imported Belgian. They’re a gift." My chest tightened. "For a client?" "What's wrong, Chloe? Jealous?" He raised an eyebrow, a hint of mockery in his eyes. "Relax, it’s for a client." "If you want some, order a box for yourself too. Put it on the company card." "No thanks. You know I'm allergic to chocolate." He blinked, caught off guard. "Sorry. Slipped my mind." I said nothing, simply jotting down the note on my tablet before leaving his office. Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the ribbons and banners from the IPO celebration hadn't even been fully cleared away. Just yesterday, we were raising our glasses together, celebrating the biggest triumph of our seven years together. I had thought it was the start of our new life. I never imagined it was just the end of my one-sided delusion. Before the end of the day, I emailed the revised report to Ethan's inbox. Passing his office, I saw him through the cracked door, adjusting his tie in the mirror. On his desk sat the bouquet of white roses I had ordered for him. Tightly budded and fresh, just like the eager anticipation written all over his face. My assistant, Jason, leaned in and lowered his voice. "Chloe, does the boss have... a date tonight?" The corner of my mouth twitched into a flat smile. "Focus on your own work." In the elevator, I stared blankly at the reflection of the thirty-year-old woman in the mirrored walls. The spark in my eyes from years ago was long gone, replaced by a deep, bone-weary exhaustion. When Ethan first started the business, I quit a six-figure job to help him build everything from scratch. After pouring every cent of our savings into the startup, we were so broke we didn't even have a hundred dollars between us. Squeezed into a tiny hundred-square-foot office, sharing instant noodles, he had looked right into my eyes and said with absolute conviction: "Chloe, we're going to make it. Once we hit it big, I swear I’ll pay you way more than that six-figure salary." I believed him. It wasn't about the money. I just believed that one day, he would finally see the woman who had always stood right behind him. Seven years passed. The company was now valued in the billions, and to him, I was just someone to "pass the time with." My phone buzzed. It was Ethan. "Chloe, cancel tomorrow morning's meeting. I have some personal business to take care of." I already knew, but I asked anyway, "Should I arrange a car for you?" "No need, I'll pick up Rachel myself." "Rachel." He said it so naturally. "Alright. Do you need me to prep anything else?" "No, just..." He paused. "Get some rest early." Before he hung up, I heard Rachel's voice in the background: "Ethan, who's calling you this late?" "Nobody, just the company secretary. Wrapping up some work." "Secretary." A single title, drawing an unmistakable line between us.The next morning, I arrived at the office early. The resignation letter sat quietly in my drawer, waiting for the moment I’d hand it in. My phone vibrated with a text from Rachel. [Chloe, I heard you've taken care of Ethan all these years. Must have been exhausting.] [He told me that if you weren't so competent, he never would've settled for keeping you around this long.] [Ethan and I are going ring shopping today, so please keep things running smoothly at the office.] I read it expressionlessly. My finger hovered over the screen for a second, but I didn't reply. Then I opened the zip file she sent. Inside were photos of Ethan and her traveling over the years. Five years ago. Three years ago. Last year. They had never stopped talking. While I was drinking myself into a bleeding stomach ulcer at dinner meetings trying to close contracts, they were skiing in the Alps. While I pulled all-nighters tweaking project proposals until dawn, they were kissing under the Eiffel Tower. While I took work calls with an IV drip in my arm at the clinic, they were watching the sunset on a beach in the Maldives. ... I had asked him to go on trips with me back then, even just a quick weekend getaway. Every time, he would rub his temples, lean exhaustedly against my shoulder, and say: "Chloe, I can't afford to lose focus right now. Let's go after the company goes public, okay? I'll take you anywhere you want." I had believed him. I even secretly bookmarked dozens of travel itineraries. Yet his annual "solo business trips" were all just dates with Rachel. Staring at the screen, I suddenly laughed out loud. Without another second of hesitation, I took my resignation letter straight to HR. The HR manager looked stunned. "Chloe, you've been here since day one. The company literally just went public, why are you leaving now?" "Besides, didn't Mr. Miller say he’d grant you any wish once we were listed? Isn't it a waste to walk away now?" That I loved Ethan was an open secret across the entire company. Yet he never showed any affection toward me in public, and he never allowed me to cross professional boundaries. He even insisted we take different routes to and from work. Our coworkers assumed it was just unrequited love on my end—that I was leaving because my feelings were never returned. Looking back, maybe that was for the best. Falling for him was my own choice. Falling out of love meant I could walk away clean. As for that "wish," I had originally planned to use it to propose to him. He used to tell me he didn't really believe in marriage, so he wasn't looking to settle down anytime soon. I had waited seven years; I didn't mind waiting a few more. But now, I was tired. I didn't want to wait anymore. "Yeah, maybe it is a waste, but I really just need a long break. Please go ahead and process it." Seeing how set I was, she stopped trying to talk me out of it. After finishing all the paperwork, I went back to our place and found Ethan spacing out over a diamond ring. When he saw me walk in, he frantically shoved it out of sight, acting defensive. "You're home? Oh, by the way, I'm heading out on a business trip tomorrow. Just letting you know." I set my keys down. "Okay." I never argued with him, and I never questioned his plans. Just as I turned toward the bedroom, he grabbed my wrist. "Chloe, aren't you going to ask how long I'll be gone?" I paused, surprised he was asking. Usually, he just notified me so I’d pack his bags. Looking at his shifting eyes, I forced a faint smile. "Sorry. Work was hectic today, my head's a bit foggy." His expression softened, and he leaned in to press a sudden kiss against my cheek. "Chloe, I haven't properly congratulated you on the IPO yet. Tell me what you want. When I get back, I'll make it happen." I knew I should let it go. Yet a stubborn, foolish ache remained—I wanted to take one last shot. Consider it a final closure for those seven years. I took his hand and looked at him steadily. "Ethan, if my wish is to marry you, would you say yes?"He froze, his eyes darting away, unable to hold my gaze. After a long pause, he forced a strained smile. "Chloe, you know I'm not ready for marriage right now. The company just went public, there's so much to handle..." The answer had always been obvious. Why did I have to humiliate myself? I masked the cold ache in my chest with a dry chuckle. "I know. Just kidding," I cut him off, not wanting to hear the same tired excuses. It wasn't that he didn't want to get married. He just didn't want to marry "me". The realization carved through my heart like a dull blade, sawing back and forth. I should have seen it long ago. From how he always dodged taking photos with me, to how he never introduced me to his family, to how he forever introduced me as his secretary. The signs were always there. I had just chosen to be blind. "So, what do you actually want?" He looked visibly relieved, asking eagerly, "Shares? A cash bonus? Name anything." I shook my head. "We'll talk when you get back." Turning back to the bedroom, I started packing luggage. His, and mine. A barrage of texts buzzed on my phone, predictably from Rachel. [Chloe, Ethan’s leaving tomorrow. Make sure you pack the new shirts I bought him today.] [My taste is pretty great, right? Ethan looks so much younger in them.] [Chloe, leave buying his clothes to me from now on. You're not as indispensable as everyone says—at least, you couldn't keep your man.] I had bought almost every piece of clothing Ethan owned. Yet looking into the closet now, there were indeed several new designer outfits. In the pocket of one jacket, there were even a few unopened condoms. I knew Rachel had deliberately left them there for me to find, marking her territory. I didn't react. I just blocked her number. I went back to packing my things. After seven years, what belonged to me was pathetically little. It barely filled a single suitcase. Just like my place in Ethan's life—easily emptied at a moment's notice. When I reached the few evening gowns he had bought me, my hand hesitated. He had bought those before the annual gala last year, personally taking me shopping for once. "Chloe, you look stunning in this," he had said with a smile, fixing my collar with his own hands. Looking back, that was nothing more than an executive rewarding a high-performing employee. It had nothing to do with the tenderness I had imagined. Just as I zipped up my suitcase, I heard him taking a call in the home office. "Ethan, are you seriously proposing to Rachel tomorrow? What about Chloe? Can you really just let her go?" "Of course I can't. That's why you guys need to keep your mouths shut. Don't let her find out." "Man, you really have it all. The dream girl and the devoted partner, holding onto both." "Devoted partner? Please, she doesn't hold a candle to Rachel. She's just the one who can't live without me." ... I stood frozen in the hallway, nailed to the floor. Listening to the man I had loved for ten years dismiss my devotion so casually. No affection. Only thinly veiled contempt. However long he talked, that was how long I stood there listening. Every single word cut into me like a dull saw until the pain turned completely numb. An old college photo slipped out from a book on the shelf. In the picture, I was standing next to Ethan, smiling like an idiot. And Ethan was looking past the camera lens, as if searching the crowd for someone else. Now I knew. He was looking for Rachel. Even when Rachel was studying abroad, even when I stayed by his side through every agonizing, rock-bottom moment... His heart had never, for a single second, belonged to me. I tossed the photo straight into the trash can. Right alongside seven years of my youth and love. The next morning, when I woke up, Ethan was already gone. Only a sticky note was left on the counter: "Chloe, wait for me to come back." I picked up the note, crumpled it into a ball, and threw it in the trash. Pulling my suitcase to the front door, I took one last look around the home we had shared for years. From the rented studio to this purchased house, I thought we were building a home brick by brick. Only now did I realize it was nothing more than my own private fantasy. My phone rang with a text from Ethan. [Chloe, I forgot the client's gift at home. Find it for me and have it delivered to this address.] I didn't need to ask. I knew it was the ring. Still, I called a local courier to pick it up and deliver it, then flagged down a cab to the airport. On the way, I sent Ethan one final text: [Ethan, we're over.]