Ficorpio
Chapter 1
Chapter 1
“Had your fun? Then get the hell out.”
Ethan Parker grabbed your drunken body and hauled you onto the couch.
You collapsed there bonelessly, your eyelids too heavy to lift. You couldn’t see the hard line of his frown, only hear his voice crashing down over you, edged with anger.
“Sophie Carter, I was never your backup plan.”
The day Lucas Hayes broke up with you, it rained so hard the neon along the street blurred into smears of color. It reminded you of one of those endless storms from childhood—the kind that made the whole world feel abandoned.
You stood by the roadside for more than half an hour, soaked through and shivering.
That was when Ethan showed up.
You had no idea how he found you. Secretly, though, you were grateful for the rain. If not for that, he would’ve seen your red, swollen eyes for what they were, and he definitely would’ve mocked you for being pathetic.
You had just managed to force the beginning of a smile when he strode over with a dark expression, yanked open the car door, shoved you inside, and tossed a dry towel at you.
His voice was as cold as the storm outside. “He dumped you. Do you really need to cry this hard over it?”
Your hand stilled in the middle of wiping your face. You turned to look at his sharp profile and stubbornly shot back, “I’m not crying. It’s rain.”
He gave a quiet, disbelieving huff and didn’t argue. He kept his eyes on the road, driving steadily through the downpour.
A knot of grievance sat in your chest, and you didn’t want to talk to him either. You turned your head and watched the city streak past the window.
Before long, he pulled into the underground garage of his apartment complex. He slammed the car door behind him, then came around, leaned in, and dragged your half-frozen body out.
He all but hauled you upstairs and into his apartment.
The moment you stepped inside, he threw a few clean clothes at you and pushed you toward the bathroom. “Go shower.”
You clutched the clothes and walked in, then shut the door with a bang, sealing all your emotions inside that small, tiled space.
The second the shower started, everything came apart.
Warm water poured over your skin as you slid down against the wall and crouched there, crying quietly. Your sobs were swallowed by the hiss of the water. No one would’ve heard them if they weren’t listening for them.
You hadn’t cried for long before someone pounded on the door.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Ethan’s voice came through the wood. “Sophie, you are not allowed to cry in there. If you’re not out in three minutes, I’m coming in.”
That was Ethan—bossy, overbearing, and absolutely infuriating.
Chapter 2
Chapter 2
You sniffed hard, wiped yourself down as fast as you could, and pulled on his oversized clothes before opening the door.
He wasn’t in the living room.
A few steps later, you found him in the kitchen, knife in hand, chopping vegetables with practiced ease.
For a second, you felt strangely dazed.
Ethan had only learned to cook because of you.
The hurt inside you still hadn’t faded. You walked quietly up behind him and stared at the hand holding the knife. After a long hesitation, you finally said in a small voice, “Ethan… can you call Lucas for me?”
Lucas wasn’t answering your calls. But Ethan was his roommate. He’d pick up for Ethan.
The second the words left your mouth, his hand paused.
Then he went right back to cutting the carrot into neat, even cubes and tipped them into the rice cooker beside him.
He didn’t say a word.
Only after he finished everything did he turn to look at you. Then, very softly, he laughed.
“Why would I?”
You blinked, and your eyes filled all over again. Your throat tightened as you pleaded, “Ethan, please. I’m begging you.”
Something in your begging seemed to set him off.
His own eyes reddened. He grabbed your wrist, dragged you out of the kitchen, and caged you against the wall with one hand braced beside your head. He lowered his face slightly, his voice thick with rage he was forcing back.
“Sophie Carter, get this straight. Lucas Hayes is my rival. Why the hell would I help you contact him?”
The tears you’d been holding in slipped free. You turned your face away, not wanting him to see how awful you looked.
A year ago, on the day Ethan confessed to you, you hadn’t just rejected him outright.
You’d turned around and fallen for Lucas—the roommate who had helped him set up that confession.
Seeing you cry without stopping, Ethan raked an irritated hand through his short hair. Then he pulled out his phone, tapped a few times, shoved it into your hand, and turned away toward the balcony.
He only left you with one light, deadly accurate sentence.
“You really do count on the fact that I like you, don’t you?”
Your fingers went cold around the phone as you pressed it to your ear.
Lucas didn’t say much.
In the end, he gave you only one line.
“Sophie… I’m sorry.”
Then the call disconnected.
You lowered your hand, tightening your grip on the phone. When you looked up, Ethan had somehow moved to the couch across from you.
His gaze rested on you, distant and flat.
“Done giving up yet?”
You scrubbed at your face, walked over, put the phone back into his hand, and dropped onto the couch.
You didn’t say a word.
You just kept crying.
His voice came again, cool and merciless. “Sophie, if you’re going to cry over another man in front of me, don’t expect me to comfort you.”
Chapter 3
Chapter 3
About ten minutes later, exhaustion crashed over you, and you drifted off in a haze.
Somewhere in your sleep, you thought you heard Ethan calling you to eat. But your eyelids were too heavy to open, and you didn’t have the strength to answer.
Later, you felt someone touch your forehead.
Then came a sharp, furious curse.
The next second, you were lifted into his arms.
The moment he set you down gently on a bed, you startled awake and blurted out, “I thought you said you weren’t going to comfort me.”
His hands were careful as he pulled the blanket over you, but his words were impatient as ever.
“I must owe you from a past life.”
After that, you lost consciousness completely and burned through a high fever.
Luckily, Ethan took care of you the whole time. Little by little, you recovered.
And not long after, you found a job.
A month later, one evening, Ethan texted to say he had to work late and told you to grab a taxi or rideshare and go back first.
When you entered the apartment complex, you jingled your keys in one hand and sent him a message with the other.
Home.
The message had just gone through when you stopped walking.
Then you took a few steps back and turned toward the narrow strip of landscaping between two buildings.
Someone was sitting there, slumped crookedly in the shadows.
Under the weak glow of the streetlamp, you recognized Lucas immediately.
You hesitated for a long time before finally walking over.
You smelled the alcohol before you reached him.
You bent down and patted his shoulder. No response. So you crouched beside him and called his name softly.
“Lucas?”
Only then did you see how tightly his brows were drawn together, how frighteningly pale his face was.
It took several tries before he slurred out two words.
“My stomach.”
As soon as he said it, all his weight started tipping toward you.
You froze for a second, fingers curling into your palm.
In the end, you decided to take him to the nearest hospital.
The hospital was almost eerily quiet that late at night.
While the doctor was pumping Lucas’s stomach, Ethan called.
Your first instinct was to hide the truth.
“I ran into a friend,” you said into the phone. “Something came up. I’ll be back in half an hour.”
The second you hung up, the doctor came out of the treatment room, frowning.
“He has stomach problems and he still drank that much?” he scolded. “You need to talk some sense into your boyfriend, young lady.”
Before you could explain, he walked off.
You went into the room and looked at Lucas lying there in a half-conscious daze. You pulled the blanket up over him and turned to leave.
The moment you did, he grabbed your wrist.
You looked back.
His face was still pale, his voice rough. “Thanks.”