My Girlfriend's Appointed Massage Therapist Was Her First Love

I accidentally saw my girlfriend's chat history.

There were several close-up photos of her thighs and chest, the skin glowing with an enticing pink hue.

The recipient was Dr. Lewis.

They say doctors see no gender in their patients, but this Lewis is my girlfriend's ex-boyfriend, whom she loved for ten years.

***

My mind went blank for a moment, and I didn't even hear my girlfriend, Cynthia Ford, asking me to blow-dry her hair.

She stormed out of the bathroom, threw a towel on the floor, and was about to yell at me when she saw the phone in my hand and quickly snatched it back.

"Who told you to look at my phone?" she snapped before I could even ask.

"Cynthia, can you explain why you sent those photos to Eric?"

My throat felt tight, and I struggled to find the right words to calm her anger.

I just wanted a reasonable explanation.

If she was willing to talk, I would trust her.

"Liam, do I really need to explain my business to you?"

Cynthia's eyes widened, her beautiful face mixing disdain and anger.

She was like a proud peacock; just a slight frown from her would make me bow to her will.

Apologizing was the least I could do, and beyond that, I would have to write guarantees, transfer money, or buy her a bag—anything extra to appease her.

Whether she forgave me or not depended on her mood.

Even if I wasn't at fault, I had to lower myself whenever she was upset.

But this time, I found the courage to push back for the first time.

"Yes, you do!"

I looked her in the eye, my expression serious.