He Confessed to Me in Front of My Ex

For five long years, I had been by Zevian Maxwell's side, too willing to be with him through thick and thin.

One evening, one of his friends mocked, "Where’s your clingy girlfriend of yours? Why isn’t she here today?"

Upon hearing that, Zevian's brows raised, his face twisted with disgust. He uttered, "Come on, bring her up. She's annoying. I hate clingy people."

Laughter filled the bar as his friends egged him on, their teasing turning more vulgar with each passing comment.

Unbeknownst to them, I was here. None noticed me sitting at the table beside them, hearing every cruel word.

They also didn’t notice the cute guy sitting beside me, his arm draped casually over my shoulders. He smiled as he leaned in and asked, "Vespera, aren't you joyous I am with you?”

***

Zevian Maxwell, the heartthrob of Adamson University and I had grown up together. He once told me he liked me and promised to marry me after graduation. Believing his words, I stayed by his side, solving all his problems, caring for him and becoming his obedient little follower.

I had believed we were indeed in love, but one of his close friends laughed and said, "Vespera, do you really think Zevian cares about you? He just sees you as nothing more than a nanny."

He gave me a smug, provocative look and added, "We're having a get-together tonight. Do you dare to come and see for yourself?”

That night, I sat in a booth across from Zevian, hoping to prove he truly loved me. But the truth hit hard.

I couldn’t see his face clearly in the dim light, but I saw a girl in skimpy clothes sitting close to him, holding his hand. Zevian didn’t pull away; instead, he clinked his glass with hers like it was nothing.

Fragments of their conversation reached me now and then. One of Zevian's friends teased, “Zevian, where’s your little shadow tonight?”

Zevian’s low and rough voice answered, “She’s a total drag.”

Those words hit me hard and my heart sank.

I suddenly recalled asking him earlier if I could tag along. He chuckled and said, “I’m just meeting up with some friends for drinks. You’re too beautiful; if you come, they’ll start teasing and I don’t like the way they’d stare at you.”

At the time, his words made me feel special as if he was being protective. But now I saw it clearly; he only thought I’d get in the way and ruin his fun.

“Lol, what a question!” a guy nearby sneered. “You know how Vespera is. If she were here, Zevian wouldn’t even get a chance to lift his glass before she’d start lecturing him.”

They believed I was controlling Zevian and constantly clashing with them.

None of them were aware Zevian had a sensitive stomach. Right after he would drink alcohol, he would be in pain and unable to sleep through the night.

Out of the blue, one of his friends said, “I have to hand it to Zevian! How do you get her to wait on you hand and foot? Even my mom doesn’t take care of me as well as she does you!”

With a loud sound echoed, a wine glass was slammed onto the table, zipping everyone's lips and freezing the atmosphere.

Right there and then, I turned to Zevian, who frowned, looking too annoyed.

“I’m looking for a girlfriend, not a mother,” he snapped. “Who wants her taking care of me? She’s always hovering and nagging. It’s incredibly irritating!”

“Besides,” he sneered, “I never said she was my girlfriend.”

Zevian's sudden outburst took aback his friends. It took them a moment to recover and then one of them awkwardly laughed, “Yeah, you’re right, Zevian. She’s not as great as Elira Zamora. How can you even have a girlfriend like her? It's too impossible.”

With that, a girl beside Zevian leaned in closer to him. I sat there, watching them drink and enjoy themselves, their closeness making me feel like the world was slowly drifting away from me.

Zevian had once said he liked me being in control because it made him feel cared for and loved. But it turned out, in his heart, I was never indeed his girlfriend. I was nothing but a display.

So what was I? A plaything to be used at his whim? Or just a nanny he could call on whenever he wanted? I was left confused about how he truly saw me. He had been affectionate and sweet, but it was just a facade.

The tears I had been holding back finally fell. I kept telling myself, “Don’t cry, it’s not worth it. It’s just a man, just three years of youth. Isn’t it better to see through it now?”

But I couldn’t reconcile with it. I had loved this man for three years, slowly losing myself in the process, only to end up neglected and unclaimed.

I downed the drink in front of me in one swift motion. The fiery taste exploded in my mouth and the alcohol hit me, igniting a wild idea.

I reached out and grabbed a passing waiter. He wore a white shirt with a slim, light gray vest that highlighted his trim waist and defined backside.

Looking up at him, I couldn’t help but marvel, “No wonder Zevian likes coming to this bar; even the waiters are stunning.”

The guy had stunning eyes, a high nose bridge and long, slender phoenix eyes that gave him an intense look. The most captivating feature was a small tear-shaped mole beneath one of his eyes.

I smiled at him and said, “Care to have a drink with me? I’ll cover the cost of all the alcohol you open.”

At bars, waiters earn a commission from the alcohol they serve. His eyes widened in surprise and only then did I notice how young he looked, as if he had just reached adulthood.

I felt somewhat guilty and was about to apologize, but he smiled as he uttered, “Sure! What would you like to drink?”

He slid into the booth effortlessly and nudged me into the corner. “How about a Tequila Sunrise?”

I wrinkled my nose. “A fifteen-degree drink? That’s for kids.”

Later, eyes shifted to Zevian, who was sipping a Coastal Brew. Before I could comment, he chuckled and said, “But I like this one. Maybe, let’s just get this, okay?”

His voice had a playful tone; it was my first time encountering someone like him. I found myself dazed.

As soon as I returned to reality, he had already ordered the drink and was grinning at me, saying, “I’m Draxon Rainford.”

Seeing his bright smile, I instantly regretted involving him. I was about to say something to send him on his way when laughter erupted from the next table.

“Whoa! Zevian! Zevian!” The cheers were deafening.

Curious, I turned to see what was happening and was taken aback by the scene.

Zevian had his hand resting on the back of a girl’s head and they were kissing openly as if oblivious to the crowd around them.

I clenched my fists, staring intently at the couple. From this angle, I could see Zevian’s face growing more intense as he lost himself in the kiss.

Suddenly, something touched my hand. I looked over to see Draxon gently prying my fingers open. I hadn’t noticed before, but my nails had dug into my skin, leaving several bloody marks.

“Don’t grip so hard,” he said softly, “Your hand is bleeding.”

“Hey,” Draxon hesitated, then asked, “Do you know the people at the next table?”

I curled my lips and replied, “Yes, I do.”

Draxon gently held my hand. “If you’re unhappy, crying might help you feel better.”

I turned away, blushing, but my movement froze. Zevian and the girl had parted ways and now he was staring directly at me, his gaze fixed intently on Draxon holding my hand.