Ficorpio
Chapter 1
Chapter 1
Orange and coconut.
There was a box of orange-flavored ultra-thin condoms in Adrian Sterling’s coat pocket.
I hated orange more than any other flavor.
I stormed into the study and demanded, “You’re sleeping with another man again? Is it your assistant this time, or one of the students you sponsor?”
Without even looking up, he answered, “Yes.”
I was on the verge of falling apart.
We had lived together for five years, and he had always been like this.
Give him a yes-or-no question, and he would always answer with the part that cut deepest.
At last, I snapped. “Adrian, let’s get divorced!”
His eyes never left the computer screen. “I’m working late. I don’t have time for milk tonight.”
And just like that, I went calm.
I packed my things and left that very night.
A month later, Adrian received the divorce certificate we’d had to process overseas.
He stood on a street corner with it in his hand, dazed for a long, long time.
From gathering up the things that mattered, to pulling the door shut behind me and walking out of the apartment I’d lived in for nearly five years, it took me only half an hour.
The whole time, I was composed. Flat. Certain.
Before I left, I even took the trash bag from beside the door.
Inside it was a melted ice cream anniversary cake.
I had spent an entire day learning how to make it from a pastry chef.
It was supposed to symbolize eternal love.
Today was the anniversary of the day Adrian and I had gone abroad to get married.
Too bad he had forgotten it completely.
As I stepped out, I ran into the neighbor from next door, just getting home from work.
“Elliot? Out this late taking out the trash?”
I gave him a faint smile. “Yeah.”
Then I pressed a hand over the backpack holding my important things and walked straight toward the elevator without a second thought.
Everything looked so ordinary.
As if I were only taking out the garbage and would be back in a minute.
But I knew better than anyone.
I was never coming back.
The next morning, I was sprawled across the unfamiliar king-size bed in my hotel room when Adrian’s phone call jolted me awake.
Still half asleep, I didn’t even check the caller ID before putting it on speaker.
His impatient voice crackled through the line and slammed straight into my fragile eardrums.
“Why aren’t you back yet?”
I let out a confused, groggy “Huh?”
Adrian sighed, like he was forcing himself to be patient. “Elliot, look at the time.”
“It’s already 8:20. I’m leaving in ten minutes.”
A pause, then he added, “Are you stuck in traffic? The coffee’s probably cold by now.”
That was when it hit me.
Maybe he hadn’t heard me ask for a breakup last night.
Chapter 2
Chapter 2
Or maybe he had heard it—and simply hadn’t cared enough to take it seriously.
He’d woken up, found me gone, and assumed what he always assumed: that I’d gone out to get his coffee.
Adrian would only drink coffee from one café about three miles from our apartment.
He said their beans were the only ones with the right depth, the kind of rich aroma no one else could reproduce.
So for the five years we’d lived together, I had gotten up at seven every single morning, driven to that café, and brought back his coffee without missing a day.
Usually I made it home by 7:30, and then I’d start making his sandwich.
Adrian got up at eight. After washing up, he’d sit at the table, eating his sandwich and drinking his coffee.
While he did that, I’d press the shirt and suit he planned to wear that day and polish his shoes.
At 8:30, he would leave on the dot.
Then I would start on the dishes, the laundry, the cleaning.
And when everything was done, I would begin waiting again.
Waiting hopelessly.
The same way I had waited for his love to fall on me one day, from some unknowable place, at some unknowable hour.
Endlessly.
And now, here I was—sleeping in so late that Adrian had to call to wake me.
Lying on a soft, clean hotel bed, spread out like a starfish under the blankets.
No coffee run. No endless housework waiting for me.
I actually laughed.
There was a brief silence on the other end. Adrian sounded incredulous. “What are you laughing at?”
I sighed. “Adrian, I broke up with you last night.”
“So you really didn’t hear me.”
I could almost picture the look on Adrian’s face—pure disbelief.
After all, this marriage was something I had “stolen.”
Yes. Stolen.
So of course, in everyone’s eyes, I would never be the one to walk away first.
Adrian included.
Strictly speaking, Adrian and I had grown up together. He was a year older than me, the boy next door every parent adored, the kind of kid people pointed to when they said, Why can’t you be more like him?
As a child, he was the golden boy of our neighborhood. At school, he was the one everyone had a crush on. He was always at the top of the class, the teachers’ favorite genius, the student who seemed good at everything without even trying.
I’d admired him for as long as I could remember. Admired him enough to study myself half to death just so I could follow him into the same university.
It wasn’t until I saw the boy always walking at his side that I realized what I felt for Adrian wasn’t admiration alone.
It was love.
That year, I had just gotten my acceptance letter. At the little celebration dinner my parents threw for me, our parents were joking around together when someone laughed and said, “If Elliot weren’t a boy, we’d have set the two of you up years ago.”
People had made that joke before.
Adrian had never reacted.
So I expected him to ignore it again.
Chapter 3
Chapter 3
Instead, he looked up and said very seriously, “Don’t joke about that.”
Then, even more clearly, he added, “I’m not interested in Elliot.”
The embarrassment hit me so hard it felt like a slap. My face burned.
The parents traded awkward looks, and no one dared continue the topic.
But I was the only one who caught what was wrong with it.
Why deny it so suddenly unless…
Was he in love?
I found myself wondering what kind of girl Adrian would like.
So I followed him in secret.
And then I saw a boy throw himself into Adrian’s arms.
I was so shocked I forgot how to breathe.
So…
Adrian liked men.
My heart pounded harder than it ever had before.
That was the day I realized I was in love with Adrian.
It was also the first time I met Lucas Hale.
Not the last.
Lucas was Adrian’s classmate in college. While I was grinding through my final year of high school, trying to get into the same school, Lucas had quietly slipped into Adrian’s heart.
At college, they were always together in the library. If they ran into me, Lucas would smile and hand me a book.
“Here, Elliot. This one should help.”
They ate together in the dining hall too, and Lucas would always drop the best thing from his tray onto mine.
“Try this. It’s good—you should eat more.”
He was like a little sun, warm and bright, lighting up everyone around him.
So when that sun suddenly vanished during senior year—when Lucas disappeared and left without warning—even I felt a little sad.
Adrian wasn’t the only one.
But if I was being honest, I was happier than sad.
I thought that finally, finally, I had a chance.
Instead, from the day Lucas left, Adrian changed.
Without that sun shining on him, he lost all warmth and sank completely into darkness.
He still worked hard. He still excelled. He just rarely smiled.
Adrian waited for Lucas for six years before finally accepting that Lucas was never coming back.
Under intense pressure from his parents, he started going on arranged dates.
In a single month, he met ten different people.
Then he picked the one who seemed the most suitable.
He bought roses like he was following a script. Chose a ring and a necklace. And on the day he was going to meet that woman and confess, I stopped him.
“Adrian,” I said, “don’t you like men?”
He looked at me and answered slowly, each word precise. “I only liked him.”
“But this isn’t fair to her.”
I frowned.
Adrian let out a breath. “What are you really trying to say?”
In that moment, I gathered every bit of courage I had.
“Adrian, if Lucas could be with you, why can’t I?”
His grip tightened around the roses. He frowned, and I heard his breathing change.
He hesitated.
So I rose onto my toes and kissed him.
“Adrian,” I said against his lips, “I’ve waited for you for all these years. Why can’t it be me?”
The bouquet slipped from his hand and hit the ground.